Licenced,  
Octob. 24. 1677. Ro. L'Estrange   

THE LIVES Of Sundry Notorious Villains. Memorable for their Base and abominable Actions.  
Together with A NOVEL, As it really happened at Rouen in France.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Diog. 
LONDON: Printed for the Author, and sold by Sam. Crouch at the Prince's Arms at the corner of Popes-head-ally in Cornhill. 1678.   

TO THE READER.  
YOu have here in these persons the Character of a Grand Debauchee, or daring Villain, abolishing and enervating, as much as in them lay, all Laws and Rules, without which it is impossible to suppose a Society: who having obliterated the natural impressions of justice and Piety, have devised and accomplished all manner of Baseness and Villainy, having performed such horrid actions as would have amazed themselves as well as others, had they not by a long Series of wickedness been hardened in their detestable undertake.  
Here you may be satisfied by evident Demonstration, instanced in the Lives and Deaths of these men, of the difference of Virtue and Vice; that they are not empty Names, or significant Nothings, seeing Heaven has interposed as a party, not suffering any of them to go out of this World without the signal marks of its resentment.  
And if the lives of good and virtuous men have been exceeding advantageous to the purposes of Religion and Virtue, why may not likewise the Examples of those who are Vicious and Abominable be in their kind as useful? seeing by the one we learn what we should do, by the other, what we should not.  
In short, I know the Book needs not long Apologies, nor Commendatory-prefaces, having been so often reprinted and approved of in France, and elsewhere; wherefore, that I may no longer detain you with tedious Exordiums, I shall refer you to the Book itself, which will never need to beg Commendations.   


BOOKS Printed for, and to be sold by, Sam. Crouch, at the Prince's Arms at the corner of Popes head-ally next Cornhill.  
REsolves Divine, Moral, Political, with new Additions. By Owen Feltham Esq.  
Clark's martyrology, containing a Collection of all the greatest Persecutions from the Creation to our present times.  
— His Lives of the Fathers, Schoolmen, first Reformers, and modern Divines. Whereunto is added the Lives of Christian Emperors, Kings, and Sovereign Princes.  
The History of the valorous and witty Knight Errand, Don Quixot of the Mancha.  
Cassandra, a Romance, the whole Work, in five parts.  
Macbeth, a Tragedy.  
Coles English Dictionary, being th● best extant.  
Winchester-Phrases.  
Dr. Tomsons method of curing Chy●mically. To which is added the A● of Midwifery chemically asserted.  
— His Epilogismi Chymici, Observationes necnon Remedia Hermetica● Mystagogus Poeticus: or the Muses  
Interpreter; by Alexander Ross.  
The Art of Painting; wherein is included the whole art of Vulgar Painting according to the best and most approved rules for preparing and laying on of Oil colours. By john Smith, Philomath.  
The Clarks Tutor.  
Studii Legalis Ratio: or, directions for the study of the Law.  
Funeral of the Mass: or, the Mass dead and buried without hope of Resurrection. Translated out of French.  
The Purchasers Pattern, much enlarged. Showing the true value of Land or Houses by Lease or otherwise. Also the measuring of Land, Board, Timber, Glass, etc. Whereunto is added Tables of the Excise of Beer and Ale, with the whole art of Gauging. By Henry Phillips.  
●lunt 's Characters.  
●enkithman 's Accounts.  


He also sells  
Spirit of Salt.  
Buckworth's Lozenges.  
Spirit of Scurvygrass.  
Lockier's Pills.  
Turner's Dentifrices for cleansing of the Teeth.      


CHAP. I. The Life of Capt. Lycaon, General of the Thiefs.  
WHen Rage and Despair seizeth on the spirit of a man, when he suffereth himself to be carried ●way by his blind inclinations, there cannot be any thing seen in the world more furious and insolent. He huffs the Heavens, and defies the Destinies, and thinks that the Stars are obliged to him for their influence. The Earth seems not worthy to bear him, nor the Ocean large enough to retain him; and blows Fear on all that come near him. His Words are claps of Thunder, and his Looks flashes of Lightning; and his Deliberations irrevocable Statutes. He imagineth that the Mountain's shoul● crumble at his Presence, and is ambitious enough to persuade himself tha● the Rivers should stop and make way for his passage. Such were the Rhodo● montadoes of Capt. Lycaon, whom w● may call by a fit title, The General o● Thiefs.  
He was a Britain, born in the Isle o● Narmontier, of noble Parents; but h● degenerated from his Ancestors, wh● ever kept the ways of Virtue. Whe● scarce had he attained to the Fourteent● or Fifteenth year of his age, but h● made appear the fierce marks of hi● Courage in the Army. Nothing dur● oppose itself to his fury, and seemed t●●evour already with his eyes, thos● who looked on him; which made peon i'll say, that he was not a man, but 〈◊〉 Monster spewed out upon the earth from the depths of Hell, to commi● those Outrages. His Parents, as people of reputation, were astonished 〈◊〉 his daily Exorbitancies: for when 〈◊〉 Child, he was continually a beating his Companions: but above all, they durst not leave him alone, by reason of his natural inclinations to steal. In the mean time the War breaking out in France, and Lycaon being now at years of maturity, and naturally licentious, could not endure the threatening taunts of his Parents, wherefore he resolves to leave them and follow the Wars, that he might have his boundless humour.  
As he was ready to depart, he was a long time deliberating under what Party he should serve. In the end he betook himself to the Duke de Mercoeur; where, a certain desire of making himself considerable inflaming him, he would be always in the most difficult Enterprise, despising all dangers, and casting himself in the midst of Fire and Swords, and massacring all before him: So that in a little time he became famous for his Valour, which made him be taken notice of by the Commanders; who seeing his port, his mein, etc. a● an excellent Soldier, gave him th● command of a Company: which charge he acquitted with no small glory, pro● mising himself a perpetual series of Wa● and Dissensions.  
But the Heavens are not always ar● med with Thunders against mortals which the unthought-of event plainly showed, scattering in an instant th● Tempest (by an happy Accommodation) which threatened the subversion of the whole Kingdom of France. So tha● Lycaon thereupon being out of employ his hopes vanished with the cessation o● the Wars; which made him (as 〈◊〉 man despairing) betake himself to the Woods, from whence he might rifle the innocent Passenger.  
And being a man highly prized for his daring Courage, he failed not of company, being followed by his two Brothers, who were resolved to stand by him with their lives and fortunes. And having gathered together the Scum of Poictou, Britain, and other places, he ●ound himself accompanied with near Four hundred men, who breathed nothing but blood and cruelty. He began, before he enterprised any thing, to build a Fortress within the Forest of Machecoust, it being a solitary place, and far remote from any road or path.  
It is impossible to relate the diligence they used in making and fortifying this their Castle: for his Banditi being as desirous to preserve their Prey as to get it, worked day and night till they had finished it. Which done, they divide into bands, and begin to range and ransack not only the Countries thereabouts, but the whole Kingdom of France.  
The people were not a little astonished at the Robberies and Murders committed every day about them, and yet could not imagine whence this Deluge proceeded.  
It were impossible to relate all the outrages which these Villain's committe● in Poictou, Saintoigne, Aulnis, Normandy and Britain. The overflowings of Rivers, the breaking down of Sluices, no● the most tempestuous weather, did eve● half so much mischief to the standing Corn, as these rogues did to those whos● unhappy fortune caused their rencounter. For they wanted not for Arms either offensive or defensive, neither skill coming so lately from the Army, to use them. They would be sometimes in the habit of Merchants, and sometimes like Gentlemen; other times like the Sheriff's Officers in Liveries, vaulting and ranging for a hundred miles about, sparing not the lives of any whom they thought had money.  
As for Lycaon, he seldom went but well accompanied, and exceedingly well mounted, for fear of surprisal.  
But it happened that one day he parted from his Fortress alone, (his people being gone out in the Country for Forage) and took the great road which leads to Nantes, where he hid himself in ●he thickest part of a Wood along the wayside, and there lay two hours, till ●t last there passed by an honest Countryman, one who seemed by his looks not to travel without money: Wherefore Lycaon arises and accosts him; and having understood by him that he went to Nantes about a Lawsuit— Thou hast certainly money then, replied Lycaon; for they to whom thou addressest thyself will do nothing without it. The good man perceiving that he was overtaken, would willingly have recalled his words again, pretending that he had but Six pence or a shilling about him to pay for his Dinner. And truly for my part, replied the other, I am far from being overladen; yet howsoever I trust so much in our good God, that if we heartily pray to him, he will not fail to send us some.  
Notwithstanding which discourse, the Countryman failed not to put on his way as fast as he could, and to gain ground; but Lycaon had something more to say to him before he parted wit● him: wherefore he asks him whethe● he had no more money than that smal● sum he last mentioned. To which the other replied, That he used not to se● out with money, it being not only in danger of being lost upon the road, but our lives too with it. But Lycaon for all that, commanded him to fall to prayers, and see what the event would be; and at the same time draws out of his pocket a little Manual, and falls on his knees, constraining the Countryman to do the like: but he knew not what to infer from these mysteries, and would willingly have been in another place to make his Orisons; for his devotion was much abated by his fear: yet notwithstanding he was forced to kneel down and wait the issue of this pious adventure.  
When Lycaon had mumbled three or four words betwixt his teeth, feigning an extraordinary devotion, he inquires of the Countryman how it fared with him, telling him withal, that Heaven was not ungrateful to the pious addresses of devout Petitioners; wherefore he bid him feel in his pockets, that they might see what God had sent him; which the Countryman did, but could find nothing: upon which Lycaon feeling in his own pockets, pulls out Five pence, telling him withal, that for certain he prayed not heartily, that 'twas expedient for him that he prayed again; showing him, that if he looked directly towards Heaven, he needed not fear, nay it could not be otherwise but he must get something as well as he: whereupon he pulls again out of his pocket Ten pence, and still the other could not find any thing in his; and was rather for praying that there might not be any thing found there, than that there should. To make short, Lycaon fell to prayers again the third time, and produced a Five-shilling-piece; and seeing that the Countryman was still upon the negative, he told him, That one of these two things must needs be that either he did not pray with Zeal and Devotion, or else he would no● let him know how liberal Heaven ha● been in his behalf: For; saith he, how else can it come to pass that my Prayer● should be rather heard than yours? for if you pray (continued he) with as much spiritual heat as you outwardly make show of, it must needs be that by this time you have gained considerably: Wherefore, says he, I am resolved to see the experience of this: And so saying, he puts his hands in the man's pockets (for it was to no purpose for him to resist) and found there Ten pieces of Gold; at which they were both amazed, the one seemingly for the liberality of Heaven, and the other for the loss of his money. Yet notwithstanding Lycaon dealt with him better than he expected, returning him the one half of his money with these words back again: What! saith he, you would have cheated me, and would not let me share with you (though your Companion.) Is this the compact? this the agreement we made before we set to prayers? Good Lord, how few are the just upon the earth! And yet notwithstanding this thy churlish humour, I will not be as ungrateful as thou art, for look you, here is half of what Heaven hath sent me; wherefore you have no reason to complain: now indeed you might, if I shared with you in your acquisition, and not you with me. And so the poor Countryman was pleasantly wheedled out of his money: for Lycaon rob a man of two or three hundred crowns as if it were really a sport or pastime, so small a sum was that with him.  
As soon as ever there was any Fair, though never so far off, he was sure to be at it in disguise, that he might with less suspicion observe the business of each person there concerned, to the end that at their return homewards he might set upon them.  
But as he skulked up and down with his Companions, he had notice that th● Provost of Rouen with his men were i● quest of him, and that they had intentions of besetting the Forest of Morsemont, where he than was; which made him stand on his guard, but could not make him lose his undaunted courage: Wherefore he rallies his Troop, and withdraws into the thickest of the Forest, to a place judged by him the most advantageous; and having left Orders, he sends out Scouts: but thinking it not safe to trust to Spies in a case of such concernment, he puts on a Canvas doublet and breeches, Wooden shoes on his feet, and a Steeple-crowned hat on his head, and so draws near them; where observing them not to be equal with him in strength, he returns back to his Companions, makes them stand to their Arms, and so encourages them by his words and example, that in setting upon them, as they did immediately, they were presently routed; whom they so nearly pursued, that Seven of them were taken Prisoners; from whom having taken their Livery-coats, they hanged them on several Trees in the most solitary places of the Forest, their Habits serving afterwards to execute sundry Villainies.  
For going one night to a Castle not far off the Forest, he commanded the gates in the King's name to be set open to him, saying, for a pretence, That Lycaon and his Companions had hid themselves there; which Order was obeyed without the least suspicion of what happened afterwards. Lycaon made as if he would search every where for Thiefs, bustling in all corners of the house with the greatest eagerness imaginable; but at last he would needs have it that the Thiefs were hid in the Trunks: wherefore he caused the keys without any more ado to be brought him, and having loaded himself and Companions with every thing of considerable value, he returns with his Booty to the Forest.  
In the mean time the Lord of the Castle finds himself not a little moved with just indignation, that he should be thus robbed, thinking that the Provosts men, under pretence of looking for Thiefs, had thus pillaged his Castle: Whereupon he makes his Address to the Parliament of Rouen, giving them an account by whom he thought himself thus robbed; who presently gave order for the examination of the Provosts Officers, and being put on the Rack, the torments thereof made them confess that whereof they were never guilty: so that there was one of them hanged, to see what effects that would work on the rest.  
The Provost of Rouen being justly incensed against Lycaon, as well for this as other his villainies, resolved to be revenged at any rate: which Lycaon having got notice of, caused his men to retreat into the Forest of Machecou, the usual place of their Rendezvouz. He in the mean time stayed alone there, where he was informed they would attack him, having notice likewise of the very hour when they would give their intended Onset; which fell out punctually according to his expectation: Wherefore seeing them, he makes up towards them in the habit of a Peasant, mounted upon a most piteous beast, and who to look on was not worth two pence, without either bridle or saddle, having only a Sack under him, and a great greasy Hat on. And thus accoutred he meets the Provost, who demanded of him whence he came, and what he had seen. He made answer, That for his, part he met nobody; but told him, there was great talk of robbing, and especially of one called Lycaon, a very naughty fellow, and one who did much mischief to the Country. They asked him moreover where he went, and what was his business; and being told he was going to buy Corn at Rouen, they dismissed him.  
Going on he met with other Officers, who made a second Band, who demanded of him whether he had spoken wit● the Provost; and having received answer Yes, they bade him rudely pass on but he stopping a little, pulls out from under his skirts two Pistols, and discharges them backwards under his arms amongst the Officers, and shot two of them off their horses; imitating in this the Parthians, who are said to have routed whole Armies flying; bidding them withal remember that they had met Lycaon: which having said, his Hackney began to cut the air with such swiftness, that it seemed to them he was rather carried by the Devil than a Horse. He was howsoever pursued by them, though but to little purpose, notwithstanding the worst of them seemed to be better mounted than he was: But he on the other side made a pastime of their pursuit of him; for he sometimes appeared near them, and sometimes a great way off; sometimes on one side of them, and sometimes in the middle of them: and this continued till night constrained ●hem to retire, leaving them nothing ●fter all their coursing but a phantasm or shadow.  
Being one day in his Fortress, the Provost of Nantes assembled all the Officers of the neighbouring Cities, telling them that for certain Lycaon this rout could not escape their hands; and indeed the design was carried on so well (it being at a time when he was least accompanied) that they did surprise him.  
He saw the danger he was in, but could not see the means to escape it. But howsoever, being instigated by rage and despair rather than discretion, he brought those about him into resolutions of fight; who came with such fury on the Officers, although their number was not at all answerable to the others, that they forced them, in spite of their teeth, to give ground: but this first shock being passed over, they were so beset on every side, that Lycaon, being left engaged in the midst of them, w● taken. But whilst the others were i● pursuit of his scattered Crew, he perceiving that he was guarded but by two presently purposes an Escape, which h● effects after this manner: Having on purpose dropped his Handkerchief, he entreats him that held his right arm to suffer him to stoop to take it up; whereupon he pulls a Poingard out of his pocket, and strikes it into the belly of the Provost, who stood just by him. The Officers seeing that blow given, would needs bear up their Master, being so mortally wounded that he could not stand; leaving Lycaon for that purpose, who presently made use of his time, leaping on one of their Horses, and finding a Pistol by the Saddle-side, pulls it out, and shoots one of them dead on the place, and makes his escape. His brother, who fled with the rest, hearing that he was taken, resolves to die in the midst of them, rather than so leave him: wherefore he rallied his scattered Companions, and throws himself in the midst of his Enemies, thinking his brother had been amongst them; cursing and ban●ing, that if they kept him any longer, he would make them rue it. But so far was he transported by these Rhodomontadoes, that he was not aware of his being surrounded by them; who so far overpowered him, that he was taken and carried to Nantes; where two or three days after he was with three or four of his Companions broken on the Wheel.  
This business did not a little scare the other Thiefs, although that they had Lycaon still left for their Captain, this being but their Lieutenant; yet howsoever, he was a man of great prudence in Counsels, ready at dispatch, bloody and cruel; which are all qualities requisite in a notable Villain.  
Lycaon loses not, for all this, his courage (if a man may term that courage which is in such persons) but getting together his dispersed Companions, he withdraws into the Forest and co● tinues his former courses, without membring his brother's miserable en● who was executed in the sight of all th● Gentry of his Country.  
One day one of the gang, bein● known at March Pontoise by two Me● chants, was laid hold on, brought t● trial, and condemned to be broken o● the Wheel; which was accordingly executed.  
As the Hangman of Pontoise went t● do execution upon some Malefactor's i● an adjoining City, he met Lycaon clothed in all points like a Merchant, who demanded of him what news at Pontoise, and whether it were safe travelling: To which the Executioner made answer, that indeed there had been, and that not without cause, great talk o● Thiefs, and especially a great Rogue named Lycaon; but that now, thanks God, the number of his accomplices was diminished, he coming just now from putting one of them on the Wheel.  
O then, cried Lycaon, you are the ●angman of Pontoise! I am very glad 〈◊〉 have met with you; for you can without doubt tell me something which is ●alked of concerning this wicked creature.  
They had not long traveled together ●efore they entered a Wood, where Lycaon having whistled half a dozen ●imes, saw himself attended with ten or ●welve of his Companions: the Hangman notwithstanding kept his countenance, and would never have been persuaded that he was in the midst of a company of Thiefs, and so near him whom he so much blamed.  
Lycaon having made him relate again the Execution which he came from doing upon one of their Companions, and this Bravo vapouring and swearing that ●he would upon that account, with all ●his heart, travel through the whole Kingdom of France, he was immediately laid hold on by two of the sturdiest Rogues of that Crew; who told him, That seeing by mishap that there was no conveniency to break him on the Wheel, he must be content with hanging. Whereupon, without any other form of process, they take the poo● Hangman, and tie him up with their garters to the boughs of a Tree, and dispatch him.  
Another time he would have entered by force the Castle of St. Hermine and Marveil; but the Lord of it having gotten notice by some means or other of his intentions, got together all the Gentlemen thereabouts to assist him, laying an Ambuscade of near two hundred men in the way by which he should pass: but as he was coming on, one of those who lay in wait for him, let fall his lighted Match in his pan, and so discharged his Musket; at which being startled, sent out some before to know what was the matter; and having understood that there was an Ambush laid for him, he returns back, and was pursued: wherefore having stopped at the side of a Wood, he makes head against ●hem, casting himself amongst the thickest, followed only by Thirty Curias●es, and beats down all that withstood ●im: Yet notwithstanding, the Country people came in so fast upon them on; every side, that they were forced to Fly, and leave six or seven of their company killed and taken Prisoners behind them; who two or three days after were broken on the Wheel at Bessay.  
A while after this Encounter they took a Gentleman, who lived not far from thence, and having hoodwinked him, they led him into their Fortress; where they showed him all their Provision and Ammunition, their Mill with which they grind their Corn, as also their Ovens, their great number of Muskets, of Pikes, Blunderbusses and Granades, their Field-pieces with their bullets, their Fortifications and Ditches, but above all, their Mines, Draw-bridges, Gates, and Portcullises, and every thing else remarkable in this their Castle; at which he was not a little astonished, thinking that he was all this whil● in a dream.  
At last they conducted him into thei● common Hall, which was richly hun● allover with Spanish Leather whic● they had taken out of a Vessel on th● Sea near the sands of Anlonne, (for thei● Robberies extended as well upon the Sea as at Land) where, after being treated with a most magnificent Collation● served up all in Plate, they again hoodwink him, and carry him back again to the place whence they took him up, without any hurt.  
The people of Britain and the low Poicton, daring not to travel, made their complaints to the Magistrates; but all the business was, to know where to find him: for one day he was seen about Nantes and Rennes, and two hours after about Dieppe and Rouen; so that the common people looked upon him as an Enchanter.  
There was order howsoever given to Monsieur Parabelle, Governor of ●iort, and to all the Officers of the neighbouring Cities, that they should ●eet together, & march directly, being conducted by the Gentleman aforespoken of, to the Forest of Machecoust, with the greatest haste and secrecy that might be. There was besides the Provosts, who were about Sixteen or Eighteen of them, with their Officers, several others, who voluntarily joined themselves with them, to the number of 4000 men, who were guided all of them by the person who had been before in the Fortress.  
Lycaon was not a little astonished in seeing such a multitude round about him, who had begirt the place, and planted several Field-pieces against it: wherefore he encourages his men, who were to the number of 300, to make a sally out upon them; for to keep within there, was certainly to perish. But alas, this their first Onset was too furious to last long; for being overpowered by such multitudes, they began to fall down on every side.  
Lycaon thinking to break through all, was at length, with several of his Crew who stood by him to the last, beaten down and taken, and was carried to Saint; where, after the Rack, he was broken on the Wheel dying with such an admirable Constancy, that all the Spectators, though before they never so much hated him, were more concerned for him than he seemed to be for himself.   

CHAP. II. The Life and Death of Arpalin, a notorious Villain.  
I Am very sensible how difficult a thing it would be here to take notice of all the Tricks and Subtleties of this Rascal, whose Life I intent now to write; wherefore I shall content myself with an Account of some of the most remarkable Actions of it.  
This person made himself be called Arpalin; and was born, as far as we could learn by our inquiries, in a little Village betwixt Savoy and Dauphiné. He was from a Child so given to the base vice of Stealing, that whatsoever he touched stuck to his fingers; and was wont, the better to carry on his Villainies, to change himself into as many shapes as Prote● being a man that so well understood the world, I mean the Tricks and fallacies of it, that he could humour a● thing, there being no part that ca● amiss to him. And for as much as 〈◊〉 could speak several Languages, he a● commodated their use to his particular occasion: Sometimes mingling himself with a Crew of vagabond Rogues, whom we call Gypsies, h● with great applause practised all thei● tricks of Legerdemain, and passé passé being an excellent Rope-dancer, and one who tumbled, and told Fortunes to the admiration of all that saw and heard him. In short, we may we● believe this, seeing they of his ow● trade took him for an accomplish● Artist.  
And with these Tatterdemallion● Ingeniosoes, he ran up and down throughout all Fairs and Concourses of people in France and elsewhere; changing continually his Post and Fashion, and seldom making use twice 〈◊〉 the same invention. To day he ●as a Merchant, to morrow a Soldier, ●e next day a Gentleman, the next ●ay after a Beggar. In a word, he ●as every day what he pleased himself.  
Moreover, in what part of the world soever he was in, he said he was of all Trades and of all Country's: So that in the company of Handicrafts-men, of Fencers, and Seamen, he was all three together; and in the company of Germans, Italians, and Spaniards, he was, he told them, of each of their particular Countries.  
He was wont, when he had done any signal Roguery, to cover his body allover with stinking Cerecloths and Ointments, and his face with Plasters; so that it was impossible for his own Mother to know him. Sometimes he was a blind Harper, other times, forsooth, you might see him swinging himself on Crutches: Som● times he fastened artificial Arms to 〈◊〉 body, whilst that in the Church 〈◊〉 made use of natural ones to cut Purs●  
After he had acted over all the● parts in a Town or City, he the● shifts to another, or else he made himself be admired as a man of another world, coming from the Antipodes giving people to understand, that h● was chief Physician to the Great Mo● gull, and King of Persia: and as such 〈◊〉 one he mounted the Stage, being in al● points indeed a most accomplished Mountebank, no Disease coming a● miss to him, curing the incurable● Galen, Hypocrates, Paracelsus, and Ponteus, and all the learned Rabble, were men that might have put themselves to him as Apprentices: In short, another Aesculapius. Upon the Stage he so charmed the people into astonishment with his babble, that he made them buy off amain his Drugs; and gave his Comrades opportunity to draw out the Quintessence of their pockets.  
He in the meant time, forsooth, continuing, for the Public good, to trumpet forth the marvellous secrets of his Medicines; but above all, promising them strange things, if they would take the pains to come to confer with him at his Chamber, as in effect he did to those who came there, showing them, to their cost, that his fellow was as yet unborn. For Occult Philosophy, for a full knowledge of the utmost Effects of Art and Nature, and for his sharp insight in the Mysteries of the Superior bodies; but above all, for an entire command of the Infernal Spirits, no mortal could ever yet attain to such boundless ability: For then discovering himself to them with a thousand Injunctions of secrecy, he offered to sell them familiar Spirits, to show them Spectrums and Demons in glasses. To the Covetous he would promise, for such a sum of money paid down t● him beforehand, to teach them to discover Golden Mines; and to kindhearted Maidens, their as kind Sweethearts; and to Fops and ingenious Triflers, the Philosopher's Stone.  
In the mean time he never so much forgot himself amongst all these pastimes, but he ever remembered his business, which was to get money.  
It happened that being one day strayed from his Gang, for it was he from whom the story takes its rise, he on purpose put himself into the hands of a Thief; who not knowing him, as soon as ever he saw him, comes up to him and claps a Pistol to his breast, telling him, he must deliver his money: which Order Arpalin was forced to obey; but desired him withal, that seeing he gave it him without resistance, and lest his Master should think, whose money it was, that he parted from it without blows, he would do him the favour to discharge his Pistol at his Hat and shoot through ●t: which having done, and Arpalin ●bserving that they were in all points armed alike, claps his hand to his sword, and so distresses the under-graduate, that besides his own Purse which he had again, he makes the other intrust him with the office of being his Purse-bearer too.  
Now as his Gang were made up of several sorts of Artists, so he made several uses of them according as he perceived which way every man's particular talon lay. Some of them being excellent at making false Keys and Betties, he would never suffer them to want employment. Others were ingenious at wrenching off of Locks, at making Deaf Files, which wasted the iron without noise, making the strongest fastened door give way for their passage.  
Arpalin having for a long time lived after this manner, and ranged with great success throughout the best Cities of Europe, arrived at last again with his Attendants at Paris, whe● they went, according to their usu● manner, each man to his particular Lodging: but forasmuch as Arpali● as their chief had ever the principal part to act, he lodged himself on purpose at a noted house of entertainment for strangers, where he soon insinuated himself amongst them, making them believe that he was likewise a stranger, and came to Paris for no other reason but only to see the Town, and frequent honest Conversations. And as he had a notable way with him to conceal his intentions, so he trapped these strangers with such specious pretences, that it was impossible for them to take him for any other than the best-natured man living. Sometimes he would carry them out along with him to Supper, not suffering them to pay a farthing; but only at their return homewards, were certainly robbed by fellows planted expressly by him, who took from him his Cloak first, to take away all suspicion; and in the morning he was sure to have it again, and with it the greatest share in the Booty.  
Sometimes he would carry six or seven of those strangers to the Playhouse, where he would pay for them; but then he failed not to place them among his Accomplices, whom he had on purpose sent there beforehand, who never let them go till they had picked their pockets. A certain Dutchman happening into Arpalin's company, and having found his pockets picked of all the money he had about him save one Guiney, he told them near him, that he was resolved that they that got the others should not get that too; whereupon he claps it in his mouth: Which being observed by him that had before dealt with him, You shall lie, said he softly to himself, in spite of your teeth, for all your security: And at the same time he follows his man, being accompanied with other Rogues whom he had acquainted with his intention Wherefore he making as if he would have pulled out his Handkerchief, let fall on purpose on the ground a considerable quantity both of Gold and Silver, which he prayed the bystanders to gather up for him; when observing the Dutchman as well as others stoop to help him, one of his confederates, to whom he had tipped the wink, began to cry out Thief; saying, that the Dutchman instead of returning the money which he had taken up, had, that he might the better conceal it, hid a piece in his mouth: which so moved the assistants, that they all immediately fell upon him, so beating and kicking of him, that they made him return it again to him whom they thought the right owner.  
These were some of the many inventions he made use of: for should we relate them all, they would be sufficient to make a book of themselves. Wherefore we shall only take notice of one act more of his perfidiousness, and so hasten to give you an account of his end.  
Having heard one day that there was some persons to be executed at La Greve, the apprehension which he had lest there should be some of his Companions amongst them, made him hasten thither; where amongst the erowd he singles out a young man, well clad, and of a good mein, named Florizard, and enquiring of him what one of the Prisoners had done, whom he pointed out, He hath killed, answered Florizard, my Lord D'Alize, a man of great esteem at Court, as well for his birth as excellent qualities; and the common report is, that he went even to his bed and there strangled him. At which words Arpalin smiling cried out, that he was a silly Rascal to suffer himself to be taken. For my part, continued he, should I ever have occasion to do the like, I defy the taking of me. Florizard a● these words looked steadfastly on Arpalin, and observing in him the countenance of a man that dared any thing▪ You seem to me, says he, to be a person that would not balk an adventure because dangerous: but the business which I shall propose to your consideration, may be effected with small hazard, provided you be secret, and follow my directions. These words at first startled our bold undertaker, as having never before had any commerce with the proposer: Yet notwithstanding he fails not of giving him attention; telling him withal (that he might the better sound him) That if he had any thing of concernment to acquaint him with, they should withdraw, and discourse together without witnesses. In saying which, they both walk out of the Crowd, and Florizard carries his new Acquaintance to a Tavern where he was used to frequent; and there having conveniently seated themselves and drank a round or two, offers him, on the part of his Master, a Person of Quality, Five hundred Guineas, if he would undertake to murder an ancient man, whom he named to him. Arpalin likes his proposals, and promises him his man dead at midnight: Upon which promise Florizard gives him One hundred pieces in earnest, with a promise of the rest when he had done his work. They part thereupon, and Arpalin goes immediately to one of his Comrades, named le Balafré, a man full of wicked resolutions, and ready at all times to execute the most horrid villainies; to whom he communicates his design and Fifty pieces, half of that which he had received, and agree together concerning the manner of the Murder. Wherefore at Eleven a clock in the night they go to the ancient man's house, and finding the gates shut, they with their Betties and other Instruments got them open and entered, and having with them a Darklanthorn, they go softly up stairs, and finding the old man a bed, they most inhumanely murder him: Which having done, they put him in a Sack and carry him, each of them by turns, directly to the place where Florizard had appointed them. And having received the rest of the money, they together dig a hole and throw the Corpse in it: Which they had no sooner done, but these two wretches, fearing least Florizard should at some time or other discover them, fell upon him likewise and killed him, throwing him in the same hole with the other. And at the same time Arpalin, whether beginning to mistrust Balafré, or being desirous to have all the money to himself, yet so it was, that he sets upon him unawares, and treats him as the two others, covering him with earth in the same place, and so departs.  
After this and many other Tragical Actions, he retreats (being weary with running up and down the world) ●nto one of the best Cities of Dauphiné, where giving himself more than ever ●o wickedness and debauchery, the Divine Justice, which slept not, over●ook him: For it happening that some fellows being taken for a Robbery by them committed, accused him also of sundry Villainies, which they, as his Companions, knew he had been guilty of: wherefore being once laid hold on, there came in so many witnesses against him, that for all his tricks and inventions he was sentenced to be hanged, and bear them company; which Sentence was accordingly executed, he marching to the place of Execution with the same undaunted and resolute countenance as he was observed to have in his life-time.   

CHAP. III. The Life and Death of la Ch●nay, a famous Villain  
LAChénay was born of honest Parents, who took all possible can that this their Son might be brought up as beseemed a man sprung from 〈◊〉 good a Family; but he would neve● hearken to their wholesome counsels but was resolved to break through a● virtuous sentiments, and wholly t● betake himself to all manner of wickedness. Wherefore having watched an opportunity, he takes what moneys he could light of in his Father's house, and departs, glad that he might now range the world with liberty resolving with himself (being naturally cruel, and one who could with as little horror dip his hands in blood as in water) to commit every thing that his Lust should suggest to him; and in a short time made himself so remarkable for his Villainies, that there came several Rogues to enrol themselves under his Standart, as to a man that wanted neither resolution to undertake, nor skill to perform the most hazardous Erterprises. And the Discipline and Trial which he put them upon who thus came to him, is not the least considerable: for he was wont to lock them up for two days together in a Chamber, without either eating or drinking; and to make them lie out three or four nights bareheaded in the open air, that he might the better know who were fit for his purpose.  
One Winter-night, when the weather was so unpleasant, by reason of Fogs, Hail, and Snow, that no body cared to stir out of their Lodgings, he divided his Crew into three Bands, and planted them on the Pont-neuf in Paris, for it was there as in his proper sphere, where he moved himself.  
When it happening that a Country Attorney, well mounted and accoutred, was about passing over the Bridge on that side where lies Dauphiné-street, but scarcely had he set foot upon it, but he saw himself immediately beset with six Thiefs; who with horrid Oaths and Imprecations, charged him to alight off his horse, and make no words on't, for if he did, they would throw him over into the River: which, what with their Oaths and Curses, together with the coldness of the weather, so chilled the poor Lawyer, that he could not, if he would, have spoken a word for trembling. When la Chénay comes up to him, as being their Captain, and sets a Pistol to his breast, commanding him without delay to deliver his money; which the other, thinking so to be rid of them, immediately did, putting his foot in the stirrup, and hoping now that he might pass on freely: when presently comes up a Rascal to him, pretending himself so lame by a fall he lately had gotten, that he could not go home a foot, wherefore he must needs borrow his horse of him; which the other was forced to alight off and lend him; and so with much ado gets from them, rejoicing howsoever that he had now past, as he thought, all danger: When lo, suddenly as he came up to le Cheval de Bronze, he was again surrounded with a parcel of Rogues, who viewing him nearly, demanded whence he came, and where he was going: to whom he related his piteous adventure, and into what cruel hands he had fallen. How, cruel! answered one of the gang, how durst you use these terms? and who made you so bold as to pass the Cheval de Bronze, without pulling off your hat? Pray, Sir, be pleased henceforwards to learn more manners. Which saying, 〈◊〉 snatcheth his Beaver off his head, and a Diamond-ring off his finger valued at near Two hundred crowns. Wha● could our poor Gentleman do? to return back again, was, To leap out of th● Frying-pan (as we say) into the fire● wherefore he faintly puts on. Whe● scarce had he got to the samaritan but the third Band, who lay as Sentinel in this place, make up to him, bringing along with them a man who had not 〈◊〉 rag of clothes on his back but his shirt (a dreadful thing, considering the time of the year, it being in the depth o● Winter:) Sir, said one of them, who seemed to be the eldest of the company, you will do a charitable deed t● let this poor wretch have your Cloaks who you see hath nothing to cover him being almost dead with cold. Th● Lawyer would willingly have pleade● that Charity begins at home, and tha● every man is bound by the Laws o● Nature to conserve his own being rather than another's: but alas, his Cliffs were other kind of men than to ●e moved by the Laws of the Land or ●f Nature either; wherefore they ●ke from him his Cloak, telling him, ●at it was a favour that they took ●ot from him his life also, seeing he ●ade so bad use of it.  
Not long after this, lafoy Chénay so ●rought on a Lackey by fair words, ●nd some small gratuity, that he discovered to him all the concerns of ●is Master's house: upon which information he commands one of his Rogues, who attended him, to go ●o this Gentleman and offer him his ●ervice; which the other so plausibly performed, that with la Chénay's recommendation, (who pretended himself a person of quality) he was without any further enquiry received into ●e house: Where he had not been ●ong, but he gets the Keys and im●rints them in Past, giving the print ●f them to la Chénay, who presently order a Lock-smith to counterfeit them: which being done, they expel the Gentleman's going into the Country; which he soon after did, to house of his pleasantly seated ne● Pontoise: of which having receive● notice, immediately the next night they beset the house, and with the● false Keys and other Instruments, for● their passage. When no sooner ha● they gotten in, but they presently make up to the Closet where the● had information the Money lay, b● by chance there was none there: b● in revenge they entered into the nex● Chamber, where having broke opens great Trunk, they took out of it 〈◊〉 much Plate as was worth Five hundred pounds, and were just ready t● go out, when the Master of the house with two Lackeys, enters, returning sick from the Country; at whic● our Rascals were not a little surprised knowing not what course to take for, to make out with their Booty, w● t● attempt that which was almost ●possible. Wherefore they hid them●lves as well as they could; but the mischief on it was, that they happened into the Chamber where the Lackeys lay, and there hid themselves, ●me under the Beds, others behind Cupboards, and in corners of the ●ooms whithersoever they could as ●ey thought with conveniency be●ow themselves.  
The Master of the house not knowing any thing at all of what had happened, goes to bed: There was heard ●ndeed some kind of noise, but they ●ould not mistrust Thiefs, seeing ●hat they found the doors locked as ●hey left them.  
After the Lackeys had gotten in●o their Chamber and were asleep, they under the bed first creep out into another Chamber next the street; where they cut the bed-cloaths into slips, fastening them to the window, and so slid down. La Chénay and one more remained alone, that they might let down the Booty; when it came presently into lafoy Chénay's mind that he had left his Pistol on the Table in the Chamber where the Lackeys lay, and being not willing to lose i● he, like Aesop's Dog, instead of getting two pieces of flesh, lost that which he had already in his jaws. For going in to fetch it, he had no sooner laid his hand on it, but it presently (having a very easy Spring discharges, and awakened them 〈◊〉 the house, who immediately put themselves into a posture of defence. 〈◊〉 Chénay flies presently to the window and first offers to slide down, when scarcely had he got halfway, but the knots wherewith the clothes were tied slipped, and he falls on the ground He received not so much hurt, but that he made a shift to scramble to his Companions, and give them notice of the danger. The other who was left behind in the Chamber, was as man amazed, seeing himself alone ●ree stories high, without any possibility of following his Companions; ●t he was quickly put out of doubt ●w to dispose of himself: the folks 〈◊〉 the house, with Halberds and other ●rms, coming soon into the Chamber ●here he was, with their Master, who had also taken the Alarm, believing ●e whole house to be full of Thiefs; ●t having after much search found ●one but this man, after severe cudgel●g of him, they shut him up in attendance of the morning. When he ●eing the extremity he was in, resolved rather to break his neck out of ●e window, than remain a remediless victim to their just passion: where●re having tied two or three Napkins together with his Garters, and fastened them to the window, he gets out, ●inking to slide down by them as far ●s they would reach; but alas, they presently broke, and he with the fall, ●eing on the Free-stones, split his head in pieces. The Watch hearing they cried Thiefs, made such clo● pursuit after them, that they took tw● who were a while after executed.  
La Chénay seeing how ill his tw● Companions were treated, chang● his Post, and skulks with the rest 〈◊〉 his Associates about the Suburbs 〈◊〉 St. Marcel, quartering themselves 〈◊〉 nights in the University; being n● often seen abroad, having been d● scribed to the Judges. Whilst he l● thus about the University, he had n● 'tice of a young man of the Count● of Champagne, who came on purpose to Paris for his Studies, and h● brought a considerable quantity 〈◊〉 money for his maintenance: when upon they accost him, and findi● him of an easy and pliable tempe● they grew in a short time so well a● quainted, that they must needs go 〈◊〉 dinner together, pretending the● selves likewise Scholars: But befog they went, one of the Gang order mighty courteously) the Porter, co●ing from the Carriers with his ●runk, to set it in his Closet, and ●ckt it, giving him the Key; which ●aving done, they set out together. When having dined, they conduct ●im to the College of Navarre, and walk him up and down till they thought their Companions, to whom ●hey had given another Key of the ●ame Closet, had conveyed, as indeed ●hey did, all the young man's money ●nd clothes away.  
A while after this, he takes along with him three or four of his Gang ●o the house of a rich Citizen in St. stephen's Parish; and having watched the opportunity of his being alone in the house, they knock at the door, desiring to speak with him. The Maidservant thinking that they were Gentlemen, made no scruple to let them in: Whereupon they presently go up stairs into the Chamber where the Master of the house was; whom they compliment, pretending the came to him to confer about extraordinary business: Whereupon la C 〈…〉nay drawing him aside, tells him 〈◊〉 his ear, that he must needs lend the● Two hundred Crowns. Which hearing, he would fain have gotten fro● them; but setting a Pistol to his brea● they soon hindered him, swearing witth horrid Imprecations, that if he mu● tered a word, and did not quietly an● speedily satisfy their demands, he wa● a dead man: which made him, i● spite of's teeth, comply with thei● requests. No sooner had they gotte● out of the house, but he makes after them, and got two of them appre● hended, the rest escaping, who wer● afterwards, for this and many other Rogueries, executed at la Greve.  
La Chénay had committed so many Villainies, and was so well known in Paris, that he perceived he could no● with security stay there any longer 〈◊〉 whereupon he resolves to beat the Road, and in effect gets to Mont auman during the time of the Siege, and ●ere stays a while in the Army; but ●nding that he had not there that liberty to do mischief as he desired, he gathers together a pack of sturdy Villains, the chief of whom were lafoy Fontaine, lafoy Point, and la Faverie, ●nd left it.  
The first Encounter they made, was of two Gentlemen in Guyenne; who returning from the Army, were by them, at the corner of a Wood, most inhumanely murdered.  
La Chénay was wont to give this in charge to his Companions: that whenever they saw any Merchant, or person of considerable Quality, that they should, before he came near them, set themselves to their Music and Dancing, and constrain him into the middle of the Dance; who oftentimes, God knows, had rather have danced a Courant than a Galliard: but they were not so busied in their dancing, but that they looked to put hi● in when he was out, and made hi● profess 'twas the dearest Music he 〈◊〉 ver bought in his life; constraini● him to part with what he had to pa● the honest Fiddler, who had recreated him with such choice Music.  
And this Stratagem was put i● practice in all places wheresoever the● came, and especially towards thr● Merchants, whom they set upon after this manner in the Forest of O●leans; constraining them to rejoin at their Losses, and to cut capers fo● the Rape committed on them. Bu● as men's designs do not always happen according to expectation, so i● chanced that a stout Blade, a bred Soldier, called L'Espine, fortuned to ride the Road where they were; and coming up to them in a Valley nee● Gergeau upon the River Loire, as soon as ever he came near, lafoy Chénay judge● by his Garb and Countenance, that he had likely good store of money; wherefore he lights from his horse, ●aking signs to his Companions to ●o the like, and takes his Cittern, ●eeting of him, singing forsooth, and ●ancing: But the Gentleman knowing not to what end these Gambols ●ended, fell back a little, and would have put himself in a posture of defence before he passed forwards; but they pretending that 'twas nothing but a mere Frolic, took away the apprehension of their designs: So that being in the midst of them, they set to their accustomed dancing. Yet notwithstanding, upon second thoughts, he concludes that their intentions must needs terminate in Villainy: wherefore pretending to tie his Garters, he dexterously dis-engageth himself from them, running to lafoy Chénay's horse, who was tied to the bough of a Tree, and nimbly mounts him, cutting with a Sword his Bridle; and makes his way maugre all their efforts through the midst of the dance, laying two of them, with their pa● broken, on the ground; and ride● directly to the Provost of Orlean● telling him what had happened, an● where he thought he might meet wit● them. But they came too late; fo● la Chénay, finding himself cheated o● his hopes, leaves the Country, an● with his Companions marcheth ove● into Picardy, exercising there the● tricks, till they had after this sort abused so many people, that they wer● forced to shift again the Country.  
After this, lafoy Chénay, being accompanied with only two of his Companions, set upon a Merchant of Beauvai● coming to Paris, taking away not only his Goods and Horse, but his Life too. Whilst la Chénay went to the Horse-market to sell the Horse, the other two expose the Merchandise to sale; which turned to their ruin: for when 'twas known that they offered their Goods at so low a rate, it was imagined immediately that they came not honestly by them; and in effect, being laid hold on upon suspicion, they confessed the whole matter.  
La Chénay, whose destiny reserved him for another place, came to find his Merchants in the Hall; but seeing a great confusion of people in the place where he had left them, it came into his mind that they were taken; whereupon he places the rest of his hopes in his heels, leaving his two Companions behind him, who were broken a while after on the Wheel. A man would think, that having escaped so many times the hand of Justice, when he was in as great danger as his other Companions were, it should have reclaimed him; but he rather making use of this as an argument to continue his Villainies than to leave them, resolved still to persist in his former wicked courses: Where he rallies his scattered Troop, and takes again the field; and having met with three Citizens, he affronts them with a marvellous audaciousness, and with a tone whic● argued nothing but blood and cruelty, he told the best accoutred of th● three, that the Horse which he ri● on was his, and had been lately stole● from him: that it must be return'● him, or else he wore a Sword tha● should do him right. La Faverie, l● Point, and la Fontaine set upon th● others with the like impudence, and would needs make them believe th● Horses that they rid on were theirs▪ The Citizens seeing it in vain to dispute Proprieties, were forced to alight off their Horses and leave them, with their Money likewise, behind them, glad that they had fared no worse for la Chénay was a bloody-minded wretch, and valued no man's life; so little sense had he of Justice and common Goodness.  
It happened, that being one day alone near the City of Man's, walking in the Fields thereabouts whilst his Companions were gone to visit the neighbouring Fairs, he entered at night into an Inn, where no body, considering his Garb and Mein, would have taken him for what he was, being excellently well mounted, and in all things like a Gentleman. Now it chanced that the Provost of Man's and his men having heard that he vaulted thereabouts, were set out on purpose to try if they could take him; but forasmuch as none of them had ever seen his face, it was impossible for them to know him. Being in the Inn, he inquires of the Innkeeper what Guests he had; who returns answer, that there was only one Company: Whereupon he bids the Host ask them whether they would not think it troublesome for him to sup with them: to whom the Provost returned answer, That he should take it as a great favour if the Gentleman would be pleased to honour him with his company. Whereupon la Chénay enters, being received with all the respect imaginable. To make short of it, they seat themselves, and he telleth how he returned from the Army, and that his Lackeys, being not able to keep pace with him, were left behind at a Village, which he named, not far from thence. They entertain one another with several Discourses, as well what had passed at Languedoc, as at Vivarets, Rochel, and other places: but as they fell from one thing to another, especially concerning what had happened thereabouts, lafoy Chénay perceived that he was in the midst of them who were set out on purpose to take him; whereupon he then (understanding his part) acts accordingly, detesting all Thiefs, and telling them how that coming out from Tholouse he was robbed by a crew of Rogues of all he had brought from the Army.  
The Provost, who understood not whereto tended this discourse, very gravely listens to him, thinking that truth itself spoke by his mouth. To make short, having all supped, they betake themselves to their Chambers: and the best of it all was, that la Chénay lay in the same Room with the Provost; and being willing to give himself pastime, he order the Ostler to get ready his horse at Four of the clock in the morning, intending to be before noon at Mans. Whereupon he gets up as soon as ever it was light, reckons with his Host, and pays not only his own share, but the Provosts too: And as he was ready to mount on his horse, he draws the Innkeeper apart, and chargeth him to tell the Provost, that he with whom last night he had supped, was la Chénay, whom he had so much sought after; and that he had paid his scot for him.  
Two hours after this, the Provost he riseth, demanding whether the Gentleman was set out yet; and answer being returned, Near three hours ago, and that he had remitted the account to them behind; he at this falls into a passion, and admires that so brave a Gentleman as he should put such a trick upon him. The Innkeeper perceiving him to stomach it so much, told him at last, that he that supped with them was called lafoy Chénay, and that he had indeed paid the whole reckoning for them: At which the Provost was ten times madder than before, cursing and swearing at the Innkeeper, that he did not tell him of it sooner; th'other excuseth himself, as not knowing any thing of their concerns, having never before seen lafoy Chénay, wherefore he could not be reasonably blamed, for giving him a simple account of what passed betwixt them.  
The Provost all in haste raiseth the Country to pursue him; but all in vain, for he had by that time gotten at least 10 Leagues off, escaping after this manner from them.  
But it is in vain for him to think t'escape divine Justice; the blood of so many poor wretches, whom he had most cruelly murdered, cried to Heaven for vengeance, and would not suffer him any longer upon the earth: for as he ranged about Fontainbleau and the Forest of Orleans, la Fontaine comes and gives him notice, that if he were minded to make a good booty, there was a great Fair kept in the Country of Perch, and that it was needful there should be to the number of five or six, who should go strait to Vernueil, as being a place near the Fair, and, if occasion required, very necessary for their retreat.  
This counsel was assoon executed as proposed, lafoy Chénay taking along with him lafoy Faverie, lafoy Point, and four or five more, and make straightways thither; giving out, that they went upon design of helping a Gentleman, a friend of theirs, who w● to fight a Duel.  
In the mean time, lafoy Fontaine, wh● was the guide in this enterprise, go● directly to Perch, walking about th● Fair, and making as if he came purposely to buy Goods; but indeed 'twas to consider who had most Money, they being the men he did intend to force a Trade withal: an● having understood that one of the● that kept the Fair, had sold Commodities to the value of seven hundre● Pounds; after information of th● place of his abode and time of departure, he came and communicated his discoveries to la Chénay, saying, which was the word amongst them, that The Gentleman had taken the field. Upon which lafoy Chénay sets out with his companions, and being come to the place appointed, there hid themselves behind a Hedge, about half a League off of Vernueil, to th'intent they might be ready when the Merchant passed by there: but it happened (howsoever it came to pass) that the Magistrates of Vernueil got notice of this their Cabal; upon which the City was all in a tumult: there was enquiry made presently after them in the Inn, where they had lodged the last night; but there they could learn nothing of them, but only that they were Gentlemen, who came to assist their friend who was to fight. This pretence was specious enough, and many were in the mind not to concern themselves any further about them: yet nevertheless, as there are some men who see further a great deal than others, so these concluded on the other side, that there must needs be something in it which looked ill, and that this Duel must be fantastic and imaginary, and invented by them as a cloak to cover some notable Villainy: to which it was added, that they were seen to pry about the Fair, and that, without doubt, their intent wa● not good; upon these conjectures it was thought fitting to make after them: whereupon the chief of the City, being followed by twenty o● thirty men well-armed, as well Hors● as Foot, made up to the place wher● they had notice they lay. But lafoy Chénay and his companions perceiving that this troop approaching concerned them, took the alarm, and rid away as fast as their Horses could carry them, for about ten miles together, and hid themselves in an Inn▪ hoping that they were now out o● danger: Where they had no sooner refreshed themselves, but the House was immediately beset on every side, with as well those that came in their pursuit from Vernueil, as of the Villages thereabouts, who came in flocks after them.  
But as they saw the people crowd more and more about the house where they were, so there were two of them so nimble, as to make their escape; there remaining but four behind, who thinking to get on horseback, were so closely followed by the Countrypeople, that they were constrained to leave their Horses and stand upon their guard. La Faverie and la Fontaine were in the yard ready to mount their Horses; but the Peasants so laid on them with their Forks, Rakes and Staves, that they could not, for all their dexterity, avoid being taken. La Chénay seeing his Companions taken, thought within himself, that this was not a time to dally in, but that 'twas his best way to barricadoe the door with Benches, Stools, Tables, and other Lumber which he could find in the Room, that he might stop the fury of the rude multitude.  
The Host in the mean time knows not the cause of this tempest, which came thundering in such a manner on his house, being charged with such earnestness to deliver up them who came there. He knew not what answer to make them, nor indeed could have come at them if he would, neither could tell what to say, but that they were Gentlemen that were unknown to him, as having never seen them in his life before. But to conclude, la Chénay and la Pointe having so fastened the door that 'twas almost impossible to enter, they get up to the Windows, crying out, That they wondered at this usage; that they were Gentlemen and persons of reputation, and therefore they had best to have a care how they thus treated them; yet notwithstanding all this, the people ceased not to endeavour to get at them, with such eagerness, that there was nothing, as is usually in such cases, but confusion and disorder.  
A Gentleman, living not far off, named Monsieur la Brussé, hearing this noise, took horse, and with three or four of his Attendants came, where ●e noise directed him; where be●g come, he seeth the Magistrates ●nd Officers of Vernueil, and inquires ●f them th'occasion of this tumult; ●nd being given to understand the ●easons of it, he so order the business, ●at he comes to the speech of la ●hénay, who understanding his qua●ty, and perceiving him a Gentleman, ●ells him how little reason there was ●hey should be thus used, and what ●ity it was that they must be offered ●p as Victims to the fury of the Populacy; desiring him withal, that he ●y his authority and interposition would appease this vulgar commotion, and get them out of the hands of ●hese Rustics.  
The Sieur de la Brussé, seeing them 〈◊〉 good equipage, could never have ●in persuaded, had not the event ●hewed the contrary, but that they were really such as they pretended themselves; whereupon he desireth the Judge of Vernueil, that he woul● permit him to conduct them to hi● house, and that there they should b● examined concerning what they ha● to say to them.  
To which the Judge agrees, provi● ded that he may draw up a verb● Process of the whole matter; whic● being done, and la Brussé's reque● granted, they return to Vernueil.  
The four Thiefs being now a● lafoy Brussé's house, are continually 〈◊〉 plotting and contriving their escape● but there being strict charge give● by the Magistrates concerning them it being the condition upon whic● they were delivered, they wanted no● for looking after. La Chénay, wh● displayed all his inventions to escape pretended he belonged to a Noble man, who lived a considerable wa● from thence; to whom when a Lette● was sent to know the truth, the● was answer returned, that he was 〈◊〉 far from belonging to him, that h● had never heard that there was such a ●erson in the world: so that two or ●ree days after, he sent into the City 〈◊〉 the Magistrates to be discharged of ●em.  
It was thought expedient to come ●ell armed, it being likely that there ●as more of their Crew abroad, and ●ho, if they should have notice, would ●ome to their Rescue: wherefore ●hey brought two Companies of Soul●iers, that they might with greater ●curity conduct them to the Castle.  
La Chénay desisted not still to greaten them who had made this tumult, as he called it, protesting he would make them pay dearly for their insolence to a person who was their superior; that they were mistaken 〈◊〉 their man; that it was not to him ●hat they should put these abuses. But alas, all these bravadoes were to little purpose; for they were soon ●fter, being in custody, known by several persons, who deposed against them: So that being clearly prove● guilty of several Murders, These and Robberies, they were senten● (as 'tis usual in France) to do P● nance in their shirts, with light● Torches in their hands, before t● great Church of Vernueil, and after wards to be broken alive on t● Wheel; which was accordingly executed: lafoy Point, lafoy Faverie, and Fontaine, confess ingenuously the several Crimes, reproaching la Chén● upon the Wheel, as having debauched them from the Army, and borough them upon these horrid practices, a● consequently to this shameful E● But he on the contrary took his Dea● with such a strange kind of undauntedness, that it is impossible to conceive, without being an Eye-witness saying never a word, but looking 〈◊〉 the people with a countenance th● argued a scorn to live though life we● granted him; showing the same resolution and fierceness at his Deat● which was observed to have run ●ough the current of his whole ●fe.   

CHAP. IU. The Life of la Fleur.  
●T would be but little benefit and satisfaction to the Reader, to have 〈◊〉 account of this persons Extraction, Village, Town, or City where he ●as born, seeing that these things, if ●e knew them, would not be mate●al to our Relation: for we will not suppose him, with Mercury, to be a Thief as soon as ever he peeped out of ●e shell; and therefore I hope I may ●e spared the pains of further inquiries, being willing to relate nothing ●f him but what we find upon undoubted Records to be true; and being desirous to come to that part his age in which, by a thousand Vlanies, he made himself in Paris a● elsewhere remarkable.  
For having one day notice of t● return of a certain Merchant of Sen● to Paris from the Low Countries, dressing himself in women's Appart with three or four of his companions, marches thither; where th● were at least three days in expecta● on of his appearance, but at last th● descried him a great way off descending the Hills: which made la Fl● prepare himself for his Entertainment, lying down in the Road wi● piteous Cries and Lamentations, a● cusing Heaven and Earth as Conspirators of his Misfortunes. The Mercant being a man of a brisk and ai● temper, and one who well understod the delights of Feminine Conversations, was not a little moved with jo● at this happy surprisal, as imagini● himself in an easy possession of agular Beauty: For indeed la Fleur, ●ough a man, had a Countenance, in ●hich there appeared so much deli●cie and sweetness, that there's few ●omen but would have been glad 〈◊〉 have been possessors of the like features; pity it is that he should ●ve made such use of them; but he ●as one of those handsome men the ●allows laid claim to. But to our ●ory: the Merchant alights from his ●orse, and inquires of la Fleur the ●use of his Complaints: Who, counterfeiting rarely well the Woman, told ●im a long story of her piteous adventures, (without howsoever pul●ing off her Mask:) That she had been seeing some of her Kindred, and was ●eft there by her Brother upon some small distaste received; so that she could do no otherwise than lament her misfortune, and curse the time she set out with him, her Honour being through his occasion so much in danger.  
The Merchant hearing this discourse, imagines, poor man, that the● must be truth in it; and setting himself down near this goodly Creature begins to enter into Appetite. 〈◊〉 Fleur making small resistance, only crying out, Whore-like, that now sh● was going to be undone, ruined, lo● for ever! Alas, Sir, said she, what d● you mean? what will you do to me● Pray forbear, I cannot indeed; away I pray: I am as yet a Maid; I be● seech you let me alone; you'll hur● me: Pish, fie, I took you for another man; what, lose my Honour, mor● dear than my life! Away, 'tis in vain.  
Whilst they were in these discourses there happens to ride along the Road a notable old jovial Fellow of Compeigne, a good Companion, and one who in his time had been a great Vaulter; who perceiving the Merchant a courting the Lady, resolves to put in too for a share: Whereupon he alights off his horse and makes up to ●●em. Which lafoy Fleur perceiving, cries ●ut, she was the most miserable of women; that Heaven had ceased to take care of her; and that she should be happy, should the ground open and swallow her up. These two comforted her with many fair promises, taking her each of them by the hand, and led her into the entrance of the Wood  
La Fleur seeing it now time to draw his Game to a close, told them, that seeing her misfortune so ordered it that she should fall into their hands, that they would do her so much favour as to advance farther in the Wood, that she might not be openly prostituted; yet still sobbed and cried, calling a thousand times on Death to succour her, as if she had been infinitely troubled at this Encounter. The old Fellow, being the hottest of the two, went on foremost, having quitted her hand, the Merchant following; but he had I know not what kind of fea● which damped his Spirits, and mad● him hang back: but as one Wav● drives another, and as the greate● part of the World lives by Example so he thought he might as well advance as the other: Whereupon h● goes on till they came to the most solitary places of the Wood, wher● being just ready to execute their filthy designs, la Fleur draws out a Pistol from under his coat and kills the Merchant; which blow was no sooner given, but the other was se● upon by four sturdy Rogues, who● with their Poignards struck him dead immediately: after which they set to their Booty, rifling their pockets, and found about 'em near Three hundred pounds besides their horses. When being upon sharing this their unjust Acquisition, there arises a great-Quarrel betwixt 'em: lafoy Fleur would have a● Horse and a hundred pound for his share, as having acted the chiefest part in the Tragedy; to which the others would by no means consent: wherefore they joined Two against Three ●nd fought near the Cross of St. Pen, which is a little Village about two ●eagues distant from Compeigne; la Fleur (having good skill) runs his man through the body, and having desperately wounded the other, gets on horseback and rides to Paris.  
Where he is no sooner arrived, but he accosts the gang of Rogues, Lifters, Pickpockets, and Filers; refines, corrects, augments, and establishes their Laws; and having read to them some few Comments on the Piccaro, he for a while leaves 'em, but in a short time returns, and begins a pleasant adventure: For being informed that a company of Lawyers were to dine at la Pomme de Pin, he parts from the Palace (his usual place of plying) and hastens directly to the Tavern, the place of assignation; where entering puffing and blowing as a man in extraordinary haste, he gives order, as deputed by the company, to make ready a breakfast fo● Ten or Twelve persons: Which h● had no sooner done, but the company comes to the house, and la Fleur bussles about as Valet, and was indeed believed to be so by the Lawyers, so notably did he bestir himself in the business; when being about the middle of their Breakfasts, he packs up the best of their Cloaks, and so pikes off. Scarcely had they made an end, but they began to miss their Cloaks, demanding where they were; but they might look long enough before they find 'em, he having got already to the Brokers with 'em who was wont to buy stolen goods: Where following him (this Broker being a noted Raseal for his dealings that way) they took him just as he was receiving his money for his Merchandise. When as they were carrying him before a Justice, three of his Companions chancing to pass by that way, and seeing which way their Pi●ot was steering, fall immediately upon the raising a Quarrel, drawing their Swords, and fall together by the ears, making such a Scuffle, that all the people were busied in looking on them: which our grand Rogue perceiving, nimbly skips out of their hands who held him, and gets into the Crowd; where they might search for him till he would be found.  
After this, with some of his Comrades, he marches out of Paris to St. Clou, and puts in at the first Inn he comes at: Where ask for a Chamber, the Mistress of the house supposing them honest Guests, shows them up stairs; and perceiving her alone, they intent to force her, and in effect were ready to put their intentions into practice, when the Master of the house just enters; upon which they were forced to await for a more seasonable opportunity. About midnight then there was one o● them feigns himself sick, and raise the Master and Mistress of the house but it happening as he stepped out of hi● bed he espies a Neighbour of his i● the Chamber; upon which the Hos● being transported with jealousy, runs after his man, whilst in the mean time these Rascals seize on his Wife, who had gotten up stairs in the dark into la Fleur's Chamber, where they began to truss her up like a woman of her profession: upon which the Husband comes to his Chamber, and missing his Wife, goes up to them; with whom finding her, he would have killed her; but by a strange kind of perfidiousness she causeth him to be murdered by one of these Rogues, thinking to come off well enough herself. But la Fleur would not be so contented: for having understood of a long time that there was money in the house, comes up to her, clapping a Pistol to her breast, and tells her, that if she showed him ●ot where the money lay, there was ●n end of her life: but she making ●esistance when it was matter of mo●ey, was quickly dispatched by ●hem.   

CHAP. V. The Life of Cleomas, hanged in Saint John's Coemitery at Paris.  
ALthough that a person of base extraction is ordinarily void of Courage, yet notwithstanding I find many great Personages remarkable for Valour amongst the dregs of the Populace, where it seemeth to us that there cannot be any at all recommendable. Nevertheless, in this case we must attribute more to Fortune and Despair, than to true Courage, seeing that is seldom found but amongst the Great, and those who are truly Noble: for Virtue appears with greater advantage, and works more wonderful effects in a body well disposed, than in a rustic mass, and stupid lump of flesh, as your Country-Peasants.  
Cleomas, a Rustical fellow, and made by Nature more to cultivate the Earth than to handle Arms, will furnish me with a sufficient Example for the proof of what I said; from the instant of his birth his name prognosticated nothing to him but what was to his disadvantage. But as we are oftentimes blind in the things which do most concern us, so from his tender youth he forgot the knowledge of himself, that he might the better forget the respect and devoir which he owed to his God. He dwelled about Paris, where he was sometime Servant in an Inn. The first act of impiety which he committed (whether naturally he was cruel, or that ●ury had transported him out of his senses) was as he went alone to Pa●is, whither his Master's affairs, or ●is own particular concerns called ●im: As he was on the Road, musing and pensive, he saw a Waggoner driving his Wagon loaden with Corn to Paris. The Wagon was drawn with four Horses; the sight of which inflamed him with a desire of murdering the Waggoner. What doth not a man when he hath let lose the bridle of his Passions? what cruelty doth he not imagine? how is he transported? persuading himself that a Tiger's heart is not fierce enough to animate and accompany him in his actions. Cleomas, without any consideration of the event, sets on the Waggoner, and with two stabs poignards him, and boldly took so much time as to bury him. You'd think this a story, if he himself at his death had not confessed it. This first Enterprise was but only the foundation of greater mischiefs he then designed: The inward fury o● his Soul hurried him on to greater attempts; and having buried the Waggoner, not out of any piety to the deceased (for he never had any) he mounts the Wagon and drove on to Paris. Surely he must needs be Master of a great stock of impudence, seeing he came to the Marketplace as if he had been the Waggoners' Servant, and there sells the Wagon and Horses without St. Honours' gate; and with the money he returned to his former Employment. There was made in Paris all imaginable enquiry for the Waggoner.  
Two years pass on; during which Cleomas committed no other villainy: for whether that they came not to public notice, or whether he would never confess it; in the end, his cruelty increasing with his years, for at the most he had not attained to the Twenty fourth year, he resolved to ●eave his Master, that he might with ●ore freedom carry on his designs. His inclinations carried him on to ●one but high Erterprises, which he for the most part effected alone. So ●rom thence he betook himself to the Woods, and accosted the most desperate Thiefs he could meet withal: so that every day new Bands of Rogues came to list themselves in his service.  
He committed many notorious Robberies along the River of Marne, and about St. Maur, Charenton, Fontenay, and other neighbouring parts. All the Country thereabouts knew his name; and although he was so well known, yet none had the courage to take him: for ordinarily he was attended with Fifty horse, and pillaged and plundered all he met with. But if his Life was strange, his End was not less admirable: for having done things beyond imagination, the fame, or rather infamy of Cleomos' i● creasing every day, the Country resolved no longer to endure his insolencies. He was threatened from a● parts; and that notwithstanding d● but inflame his Courage. At Chariot ton a man called Floriander had caus● five or six Marshals men to come t● his house, in order to take him; fo● he sometimes used to walk alon● Cleomas heard of it, and came b● night, with his Crew, to Floriander gate, firing the house with a hundre● Curses; which presently alarmed th● Town as well as the Marshal's men who pursued him with all their forces His Company perceiving they wer● pursued, dispersed themselves; but h● retreated to a Villiage, and went t● Inn there. This pursuit made him keep in: They enquired where h● was hid, and at last he was found ou● by the Marshal's men in the said Inne● The people gathered together abou● the Inn; and as two were ready on the threshold to seize him, he rose from the Table where he sat with his Pistol in his hand, and killed one dead ●n the place; then with his Sword made an end of his Companion, and had the assurance to bridle his horse, and to get out of the Inn. The Peasants seeing this, rushed all on him, so the number of a hundred and fifty, armed with Clubs, Forks, Rakes, and what they could next lay their hands on; so they forced him from his horse: which did not so terrify him, but that he made his way with his sword, and the Peasants could not then take him; but the number increasing, closely pursued him. He seeing himself at the last period of his life, ran with all the force he could, and got among the Vines, outstripping them, a thing almost incredible, at least half a league; but as he would have reposed himself, he was astonished, that in less than a quarter of an hour he was environed with no less than Three hundred people. Being in this extremity, he again forced his way through them, and came to the Vallie● of St. Maur; where being arrived, h● saw there was but one way left for t● escape, which was to cast himself into the River, where he took the leisure (though closely pursued) to undress himself, and left his clothes on th● bauk; then taking his naked Sword in his teeth, he sets to swimming i● the River of Marne. The banks were covered with the multitudes of people, who prepared Boats that they might take him: But that which was admirable in his courage was, that h● never parted with his Sword from betwixt his teeth. Swimming to a little Island on which he got and rested him, many there were who put themselves in Boats to take him; but five or six of them were wounded in the attempt. At last he came, by swimming, from St. Maur to Charenton, where the people made at him with their Oars, seeing they could not take ●im without blows, striking him ●hree or four times with them on the ●ead, which stunned him, and thereupon was with ease taken and carried to a Surgeon in order to his cure, being very much wounded. His wounds being dressed, he was condemned, and by an Appeal sent to Paris, where he was hanged.   

CHAP. VI The Lives of two Bloody Thiefs, Francis Dornande● and John Langlois.  
THe irreligion of Francis Dornandez and John Langlois instigated them to commit the most detestable actions, having abandoned a● sense of Piety from their youth, their ordinary exercise being nothing but Theft and Murder; nor could it wel● be otherwise expected, for their Ancestors had exercised no other trade, as it appears by the Sentence of their Condemnation pronounced at Orleans: For their Father was broken on the Wheel at Roüen. They were born near Gergean, a City of Soloigne, and past their youth in the Wars of Savoy. We will not take notice of an infinite of wicked acti●ns which they committed, as well 〈◊〉 the Wars as in other places; I'll ●ake notice now of nothing but what 〈◊〉 most remarkable, especially of one ●ct that they did near Paris; 'twas ●ot far from the Mount Valerien, where these Villains made their Sallies, this place was their rendevouz, ●nd scarcely a day passed but they pillaged somebody; they held all the Country in subjection, neither durst ●ny offer to take them, lest they should afterwards fall into their ●ands: The Woods served them for a retreat, and the Caverns for a hiding place, from whence night and day they exercised a thousand sorts of Villainies. The fame of their cruelty spreading itself far and near, caused all the Country to keep off from them; the good Religieux of Meudon, who lived hard by, were the only persons who could pass with safety, as having indeed nothing t● lose: Their goods consisting not i● the riches of this World, but in th● treasures of eternal Life. Hunger often forces the Wolf out of th● wood; Dornandez would have neve● come out of his private retreat, if h● could have found enough there t● satisfy his vicious inclinations: bu● his companion, who loved to nourish himself with blood, persuaded hi● to take the field; it seemed to him a● age past since he had taken any booty. Dornandez, solicited by th● desires of his companion, leaves hi● den, and so they came foraging a● along the river Seine, where, as i● happened, about half a League off S● Clou, they met two poor Religieu● Recollets, who wandering out o● their way by reason of the night's approach, could not reach Paris, ask of them the way to Meudon, ther● being a famous Monstery of Capu● chin-Friars. Langlois, who breath'● nothing but blood, tells his companion that he must needs kill these too Religious. Dornandez withheld him, showing him the horror ●f the fact, and the little gain that ●ould redound thereby; yet nevertheless his remonstrances could not persuade him; wherefore he turning ●owards them, told them he would ●ew them the right way, and that ●e was going the same Road. At ●he hearing of which, these good Father's humbly thanked them for their ●ains. Langlois, who had shut his ●yes to all manner of goodness, that ●e might open his heart to all manner ●f villainy, conducted them into his Cavern, intending to kill them; but Dornandez, who could not agree to ●he death of these persons, with much ●do made him alter his resolutions: but howsoever, he tells them that ●hey must leave behind them their habits; and so saying, took them from ●hem.  
Dornandez not knowing his intention, desired him often to let them g● as they came; but he had other designs in his head, promising no sma● advantage by these habits. Wherefore having stripped these two Fathers he conducted them out of the wood and showed them the way to St. Clo● where, by reason of the night, they went to lodge.  
Langlois and Dornandez having got into the place of their Retreat and discoursing together of wha● they had done, Langlois told hi● the reason why he took their clothes You know, continued he, that 'tis no● far from hence to Argentville: 〈◊〉 would turn towards Meudon, but th● Religieux there perhaps would kno● us by our demeanour; howsoever I advise to assume these habits, pretending to be what they are who wore 'em, l● me alone to do the rest; we'll go t● Argentville, where I saw the la● time I was there, a golden Chalice; 〈◊〉 don't question but by this disguise to 〈◊〉 master of it. Dornandez answered him, that 'twas a bold and dangerous enterprise; howsoever if ●e can do this, said he, it will be an ●ncouragement to do others.  
Whereupon they resolve at last to ●ut their invention in practice, going ●o Argentville to the Curates house, who believing them to be Religieux ●oming that way, received them ve●y kindly; which free access gave ●ope to their design. At night as ●hey lay together, they were a while consulting of the manner how they should carry on their business, which ●hey at last resolved upon. The Morning being come, our two Religieux got up betimes, and came to the Curate's Chamber, telling him they desired to say Mass: the good Curate not mistrusting any thing, ●arises and opens the door; which ●he had no sooner done, but they with their Poniards stab him to the heart, laying him dead at their feet although he inteated their mercy which having done, they break ope● his Trunks, taking away all his Money; and not therewith contented they take the Keys of the Church and carry away not only the Chalice but all the other Ornaments besides and so march off.  
And after this sort they deceived not a few, using these Habits as a sure covert to exercise sundry villainies, till they were at last detected and seized on at Orleans, where they there on the Gibbet made an end o● their miserable Lives.   

CHAP. VII. The Life of postel, a Scholar of the University of Paris.  
POstell came of a good Family, and was sent to Paris for conveniencies of Study, where he was en●ered in the University, being allowed a sufficient Pension from his Friends for his maintenance: but a●as, that was by him immediately, in the space of two or three days consumed at farthest; wherefore he was forced to betake himself afterwards to shirking and stealing for his subsistence, running up and down a●ights about the streets, and in the morning he betook himself to his Chamber, as a Fox that had been hunting the Geese. The first that was trapped by this Gamester, was Booksellers-man of the Palace, wh● coming from carrying some Books t● a Scrivener, and having not foun● him at home, returned in St. Iames● street about eight at night, in th● midst of winter. postel having me● him, asked him what Books he carried: the other shows him; where upon they chaffer, and he carries hi● to his Chamber, which he had hired near the College of St. Barbe where being arrived, he gives him a glass Pistol to change; in the mea● time shuts his Chamber-door, and as the Booksellers man brought him the Pistol again, he would not stir to open it: but on the morrow happened the mischief; for thinking to sell the Books he had bought to a Bookseller, he addresses himself to the Owner, who stopped them; and had he not found his legs ready at his service, he had even turned Bookseller in the Gatehouse. This one should imagine was warning enough for him, had he not been so addicted to wickedness; in a word, 'twas so far from reclaiming him, that on the contrary, having heard a little after that a young Vintner had been lately married, and set up in St. james-street, he with his Gang frequented his house, and were received with welcome and credit. postel observing that he left his Wife often alone, took that as an occasion to make love to her, imagining by his fair words to compass his designs. It happened one day, that the Master of the house going to Supper to some of his Relations, postel with one of his Comrades at night knocks at the door, which was presently opened; he began to carouse, looking for the good hour in which he might execute his intention; for the Mistress of the house being indisposed stayed at home, knowing besides that 'twould be late before she should return, had she gone. As they were going abou● their enterprise, the Master of th● house knocks at door, a little merry, for they had made him drink where he was, as a man of his profession; he enters, and doubts not in the least his guests, but drinks with them, and thinks they would, as they were wont, go to their Lodgings at last: But one of them pretending to be drunk, sleeps at the end of the Table: postel desired for his Friend a Chamber that Night, which the Vintner at first scrupled, but upon the consideration of being his guest, granted his request. About Midnight, when every body was in deep sleep, they rise and come from their Chamber, armed with Pistols, thinking to find the Vintner's Chamber open, but it was locked; they consulted a long time what to do, and how they might get into the Chamber; at length Postill told his Companion, he'd have him return to his Bed, and pretend himself sick; which he did, and presently he began to knock on the floor, under which the Vintner lay, and to call for Wine to fetch him again to life, pretending that he had swooned away. The man of the house awakens in a maze, and brings some Vinegar for this Counterfeit; but postel told him, he thought it most proper to give him some of his best Wine, and that he knew his Companions constitution; whereupon they went both into the Cellar. postel takes a Pistol with him loaded with three Bullets, charged with white Powder, and as the Vintner stoops to draw Wine, he discharges it and shoots through his Head, killing him dead on the place: the Candle was put out, and he was above a quarter of an hour, before he could find the way out of the Cellar. In short, he got out, lights the Candle, and goes up stairs, telling his Companion what he had done. The Woman of the House seeing a man, took him for her Husband, not mistrusting he was murdered. Postill goes to bed to her and she receives him for her Husband, and bids him put out the Candle; but as he turned to draw the Curtain, she perceived he had no Beard, and presently cries out: whereupon Postill's Comrade throws himself into the Chamber, and stops her mouth with the Bed-cloaths, and so accomplished their brutish Appetites, and afterwards killed her with six stabs of a Dagger. It chanced that the Maidservant was not at home, having got leave of her Mistress to be at one of her Brother's Wedding; so that these Murderers knowing they were alone in the house, ransacked and pillaged the best they could lay their hands on, breaking open Trunks and Boxes, till they met with four hundred Pounds, which the Vintner had borrowed of his Wife's Father, to buy Wines in Burgundy. Furnished with this Booty, they gently opened the door, at three of the Clock in the Morning, having carefully shut all after them, as if there had been nothing done. In the morning every one was astonished to see the doors fast, it being a well-customed house, the Master of it having the reputation to be no Water-dasher, there being few of them in Paris: For of a Pint, they'll make a Quart, and of a Pottle a Gallon. The Neighbours did not at all mistrust mischief, thinking that this their keeping the door shut, was out of some particular humour; but at last they were doubtful of the worst, and therefore sent word to his Relations, who broke open the door, and found the Mistress bleeding in her Bed; whereupon all the Neighbourhood were in an uproar: the Commissary comes there, drawing up a particular account of what they had seen. All people accused the Vintner as guilty of murdering his Wife, saying that he came home drunk the night before; and seeing he could not be found, what could be more probable? This was told his particular Relations, who could not tell what to think on't, as knowing not how to acquit or condemn him: But this they affirmed, that to their knowledge he never had (a thing very rare) any quarrel with his Wife, being not of a choleric temper. Whilst these debates were managed, the Commissary, whose business it is to take care of those matters, orders the dead body to be carried to the Chatelet. But before he doth so, the Parents of each of them desired him to search the house; which they had no sooner done, but they found the Vintner dead on the ground. The shriekings and lamentations are doubled on every side, and none could imagine th'author of these Villainies.  
So these two Rascals went clearly. off with these spoils, and lay continually in Bawdy-houses, till they had consumed it all, and then were forced to put themselves on new shifts. Postill had a rich Uncle, a Citizen of Paris, who knew not of the ill courses of this his Nephew, giving him always a favourable reception in his house. He finding all his Money gone, so contrived his business, that he at last got the Key of the Trunk in which his Aunt used to store up her Money: she not imagining that any of the house had it, much less her Nephew, caused a new one to be fitted to the Lock. He being willing to make use of an occasion when offered, watches one Sunday till they were gone out of doors to Church, leaving no body at home, but a little Girl their Kinswoman and the Servant-maid: Postill seeing his Uncle and Aunt safe at Church, returns, where he sindes the Maid washing the dishes. He who knew the customs of the house hastens her to the Sermon, telling her that 'twas already begun: she no doubting his designs, believes him and so they go out together, leaving the little Girl at home: Postill follows her to Church, where being entered, he presently whips out and returns, knocking at the door, which was presently opened, telling her, that he had left his Beads behind him; whereupon he marches up stairs, and pretends to look 'em, and opens the Trunk with his Key, and takes out a little bag, wherein was Two hundred Crowns, and so goes out of the Chamber, putting every thing in its place, as if he had never been there.  
Six or seven weeks after, his Aunt having occasion to look into the Trunk, and missing this bag, was much amazed, telling her Husband; who did not know whom to impeach, except a certain necessitous person that frequented the house: who knowing himself innocent, and yet not withstanding accused as guilty, did not know what to do, but takes notice of all comers & goers; and at last was given to understand by some of Postell's Comrades, that he spent his money like a Prince, and that his Incomes would not answer those Expenses: whereupon he informs his Uncle; who enquired narrowly into his Nephew's life, and found what was told him was too true: But not being willing to shame him, as being his Kinsman, gave him wholesome and severe Admonitions, and withal, notice to his Father and Mother. The Father being much afflicted at this his Son's deportment, came to Paris, and would have had his Uncle severely punish him. His Uncle being angry at the loss, would not expose him; and thinking that he might one day be reduced, he promising an amendment to his Father, was received again into favour: but being not able to live without his accustomed pleasures, turned to his Debauch again, addicting himself more than ever to his old Cronies; among whom it was at length resolved to get a fresh Stock, for their Purses had been a long time empty: They thereupon take a house, under pretence of making it a house for Entertainment, where they showed themselves very courteous and noble; so that a great many young Students, newly come to town, visited them. They had on their parts returned all the civility imaginable, until they had found out who had the most money; and their usual course was to draw them along with them to their house; where being entered, after the usual Compliment, set themselves to play: The money being laid down on the table, one of the Comrades, seeming to come in as a stranger, would snatch all and run away.  
One of the Gang, a great Debauché, being not able to continue his courses without supplies, resolves with himself on a Murder: Wherefore he goes one morning to one Mr. Gantier, dwelling in Paris; a man of unblamable Conversation, and who had been Tutor to this Scholar, and resolves to kill him and plunder his house. Coming therefore to the door of this Gantier, the Chambermaid, who knew him, let him in; where entering, he finds Gantier a-bed. This good old man asked him how he did, and what progress he made in his Studies; and for answer he stabbed him with his Dagger. This Servant which let him in was a well-bred maid, and Kin to Gantier, and kept his house, and who was promised in marriage to a good honest Tradesman; she coming into the Chamber and hearing the noise, had her throat cut by this Villain: which done, he opens the Trunks, and finds there Plate, and some small matter 〈◊〉 Money, and so departs. But think in to conceal his horrid fact, sets fire o● the house, hoping that the house being in a flame, these two Corp● would be consumed: but the fire b● the Neighbour's diligence was p● out, and these two poor creature were found most cruelly murdered The Villain finds his mind so harrassed and tormented by the thoughts 〈◊〉 what he had done, that he could no● by any means get into his Lodging being laid hold on by some Neighbours who knew that he frequente● Mr. Gantier's house, not knowing though that he was the Author o● these Villainies; but being taken there was the things before-nam'● found about him; and being had be● fore a Justice, he was committed, an● within a short time hanged and burn● at la Greve.  
As soon as ever postel and his Companions had notice of his being taken they get as fast as they could out of the City; but this our Rascal could not leave the Town without some Rogue's trick. He was wont to be often at a Tavern near his Lodging, and was usually respected as one of the best Guests; which he being sensible of, makes bold to request of the Vintner to lend him his horse for two or three days, pretending to go see his Father: which was lent him without difficulty. postel being thus gone from Paris, goes to Beauvais, where he sells the horse to an honest Merchant; who thinking he had gotten an honest bargain, trucks him away for another more to his mind. He with whom he had exchanged came some while after to Paris, where thinking to sell the horse, he was known by the Innkeeper who had lent him to postel: whereupon he seizes the horse, and proves that he was his. The other returns to Beauvais, where the Merchant who had bought him of postel was forced to return the money. postel had shifted his abode, and wa● marched to Abbeville; and comin● near to a Wood, it being late, and h● having neither Sword nor Stick to defend himself, met with two Thiefs who being exceeding earnest after their Prey, thought they had foun● what they had looked for, seeing postel. He being confident enough in himself, would not retreat, but keeping on his way, comes up to him, who demanded of him his money, swearing Damn 'em and Sink 'em, that if he did not presently deliver, he was a dead man. He being not accustomed to give but to take, could not relish this Summons; but without being a whit afraid, made answer he had none; and at the same time laying suddenly his hand on one of the Thiefs Swords, who stood not well on his guard, he wrenched it out of his hand, giving him with it such a blow on the arm, that the pain took away all sense: which having done, ●e sets upon the other, who less valiant than his Companion, betakes himself to his heels; but postel pur●'d him so nearly that he made him ●ield himself to his mercy, who gave ●im his life, after severe checks for ●etting upon his Master. He returns ●o the other whom he had first struck, threatening to kill him if he delivered ●ot his money. He would have excused himself, as having none; promising him, that if he would go along with him to the first house after they had come out of the Wood, he would help him to some. postel not thinking that the other was laying an Ambush for him, follows him; so that having went through the Wood, he enters with this Thief into an Inn, the Master whereof was a mere Rogue, and of correspondence with these Rescals.  
Being very well used by this Innkeeper, who said he was kin to this Thief who had conducted him thither he receives Ten Crowns; and professing plainly what he was, he wa● the more kindly entertained, it being agreed he should stay and dwell there and have every thing necessary, and go partners in all booty.  
A while after this, a Gentleman o● Picardy, a very discreet and valiant person as any in his time, returned from England, after having stayed some time at Calais; and having taken the Road of Amiens, he rides through Abbeville; where he would not stay being willing to reach farther: so that he went through this Wood, and was forced, by the night's approach, to put in at this Inn.  
Being in his Chamber, after having had every thing fitting, he perceive the Servant to weep as she was making his bed, and was secretly informed by her of the danger he was in. Amongst other things, she told him. 'Twas the Innkeepers oustome to ring a Bell, at the sound of which overall Rogues came running; when ●esently one of them feigning to be servant to the Inn, comes to the Chamber where the Guests are, and ●aking as if he would snuff the Can●le, would put it out: upon which ●he other Villains would enter and ●ll upon them, and so most cruelly ●urther them, there being none that ●ould escape them.  
This Gentleman considering with himself what to do, causeth the Maid ●o bring him a Lantern, and puts a Candle lighted in it, and hiding his Lanthorn under a stool, lays ready his Arms, and stands upon his guard.  
When scarcely had he sat himself down, but a great boorish fellow enters, who very officiously, as Servant of the house, so snuffs the Candle that he snuffs it out; but the Gentleman causes presently his man to bring out the Lantern, repels the Villains, who came pesle mesle upon him, killing some of them, and puts the others to flight; seizes on the Innkeeper, and delivers him into the hands of Justice.  
postel saves himself, and returns again to Paris, and lodgeth with a Gentleman, a stranger, in the Suburbs o● St. German. This person had a considerable sum of Money, together with a great Chain of gold, and several Rings, which he ever carried abou● him. Our Rascal, willing to ge● them from him, so prevailed with him, that he got him to walk with him towards the Wood of Vincennes▪ where, being amongst the Vines, he sets upon him, and having seized on him unawares, he cuts two of his fingers off his hand, and gives him two stabs with a Dagger into his back, thinking that he had killed him. This done, he takes the Money and Rings and returns to the City. The Gentleman (who pretended himself worse than he was) makes a shift to rise and crawl to the House of a Peasant near ●y, who took what care he could of ●im.  
From thence he was carried assoon as ●ver he could bear it, to Paris, where ●e sends for the Provost of the Island, ●nd relates what passed, describing ●o him, as near as he could, the per●on; he made search for him about ●ll the University, and was at last ●et withal as he would have leapt ●own from the College of de Lysieux ●to the Ditches.  
He was carried to the Chatelet, where being put on the Rack, he confesses these and several other Villainies, for which he was Sentenced ●o be broken on the Wheel; but, howsoever it came to pass, he died ●x hours (whether he poisoned himself or no, or by some other means) ●efore the Officers came to fetch him ●o Execution.   

CHAP. VIII. The Life and Death of Veron born at Compeigne in France  
NOt far from the place where th● Rivers of Oire and of Even joy● together that they may come in th● same course to lose their Names i● the Seine, there stands a pleasant an● stately City called Compeigne, famous for its Antiquity, having bee● built by Charles le Chauve or th● Bauld, taking from him its name 〈◊〉 Carlopolis. This City has all the advantages desirable; for it enjoys most excellent Air, and admirab● Prospect, being every way most pleasantly seated; on the one side she 〈◊〉 watered with the River Oire, whic● separateth her by a great and spacio● Meadow, bordered with fruitful ●ines and all sorts of Grain: On the ●ther side half a League distant it ●ath a large and level Forest.  
The Kings of France were wont 〈◊〉 divert themselves in this City, by ●ason of its convenient situation ●r Hunting, especially in the said ●orest, which may be justly said to ●e one of the best in all France.  
'Twas in this Forest and thereabout where Veron played his Devilish ●ranks; and as an other Antheus ●nged and ransacked all the neighbouring parts; there being scarcely ●y one who durst be so bold as to ●eet him, so cruel and barbarous was ●e. It will not be here amiss to ●eak something of his Parentage and extraction, before we relate any of ●is horrid and abominable actions.  
He came then of one of the best familys of Compeigne; but gave himself over from his Youth to Cruel●y and Rapines, and all manner of Licentiousness; yet nevertheless, bei● born of honest Parents, he light 〈◊〉 a good Match in the said City; b● alas! when we leave God he leav● us, and suffers all our Affairs to decline.  
Veron had no sooner entered in● possession of his Estate, but bega● immediately to abuse his Wife, a● to pawn and make away all the● had, that he might keep lewd co● pany, and be continually at Taver● and Alehouses; this course of Li● lasted not long, drunkenness being Labyrinth, in which those who a● plunged, cannot get out when the● please.  
Having spent some years after th● sort, he found himself at length stri● of all things necessary, so that his Wive friends would have 'em-parted, as we● for the present want he had reduce● her to, as for the injuries he con● nually did her, pawning not one● his own clothes, but hers likewi● that he might have wherewithal to arnish his drunken appetite: which ●roceeding was not a little hard of digestion to her, who being as yet ●oung, was not a little troubled to ●e herself used after this manner.  
All the admonitions his Parents used were to no purpose, being so habituated in Vice and naughtiness. ●rom that very time he despised all good Counsel, and began to range the Woods, being sometimes eight days ●efore he returned home; so that ●e was often held for dead, by reason ●f his so long absence.  
There was scarcely any thing else talked of but Thiefs in that Forest; ●nd scarcely durst any one pass by ●here, being sure if they did, to be ●obb'd: sometimes he was on that side which lies towards Pierrefonds, ●nd other times towards Verberie. There was not a Hole or Cavern in the Forest he knew not: Sometimes he would take the Field, and vaulted on the other side the Water, a● 'bout the Borders of Vernelle Remy and other circumjacent places: An● that which gave the most admiration was, that having committed any Murder or Robbery in a place, h● would be seen two or three hours' after at least eight or nine League's o● thence.  
This person was of a great size being a huge massy Fellow, and, like another Hercules, would by hi● strength do things beyond conception. One day being pursued in th● City by the Justice's Officers, wh● were resolved to have him examine● concerning his way of living, he ca● himself from the Bridge into the River near where the Boats are hale● up the Water; the Tide running i● that place with such a rapid swiftness, that when a man could not swim it would carry him half a League without stirring himself. Veron cas● himself in there, and (which wa● never before seen) he was so strong, that maugre the force of the River, he made up and ascended the Key. This action was admired by every one, as indeed it might well.  
The Woods were the ordinary places of his retreat; he lurked there all the daytime, and was often seen on a Tree with his Harquebus watching the Passengers. It is reported for certain he killed in one day six Merchants, who were all of them returning from a Fair not far distant thence. In short, all the parts thereabouts trembled with fear at his cruelties: he on the other side when he was flushed, returned to Compeigne, and no one durst be so bold as to affront him, carrying on always his business so slyly, that 'twas impossible to find certain proofs against him.  
It happened about the year 1609, when France was calmed by a long and happy Peace, that people from all parts, as 'tis the custom, came to the general Match of Shooting, every one striving who should bear away the Prize.  
Veron being a man who loved to show himself, would not let slip this occasion, resolving with himself to make one amongst them; but that for which he was most concerned was, that he had no Money, and not one of his Relations would lend him any, being by them well enough known to be a bad Husband; notwithstanding which, he was resolved to furnish himself some how or other, imagining people would reflect on him not appearing on so eminent an occasion; and seeing on the other side he could borrow none, he resolved in his mind to get some by force.  
It is to be remarked, that about a quarter of a League beyond Compeigne, upon the side of the Wood, near the great Road which leads to Soissons, there is a little Hermitage, called the Cross of the holy Sign, where there lives continually Hermits who come begging to the City: There is likewise a very decent Chapel, where many people, whose occasions lie that way, turn in to make their Prayers.  
In this Hermitage dwelled then two good old Fathers; one of them was called Frater Claudus, the other's name I do not remember. Now Veron was wont very often, after he had been weary with ranging the Wood, to retire there. They ever gave him entrance when he knocked at their Gate, and also imparted to him what they had gotten in the City. He had frequented this Hermitage for at least two years before this business of the Shooting-match was talked of; so that notwithstanding all the bad reports which were continually noised of him, these Fathers were not afraid of him, and ceased not to receive him whensoever he listed to put in with them. But the easy access which they gave him, lost 'em: For frequenting there so often, he came at length to know they both had Money; he would not howsoever have harmed them, could he otherways have effected his business; but finding himself urged by want of Money, and knowing he must contribute his part to the Prize, which was to a very rich one, and that very speedily; he resolves thereupon to rob these Hermits, and take from them their Money, but he knew not what means to use that people might not mistrust him: but behold what he did! one night about eight of the clock, 'twas about Whitsuntide, when the days were at longest, as he was about to go out of the City, he asks of two several persons what a clock 'twas; he was told it was eight; upon which he strikes into a little Street that leads out of the Gate, and was so quick, that scarcely was he half an hour in his way to the Hermitage, where he enters, no body without seeing him go in, where he addresses himself to the Eldest of the two Hermits, (for the other was gone to draw Water out of a Well hard by there) and demands his Purse. The good old Senior thought he was in jest, not making any reckoning of what he said; but was immediately astonished finding himself on the Ground by a blow given him by this Parricide, seconding it by another with his Poignard about his left-breast: the Hermit feeling himself thus struck, showed him the place where his Money lay; the other redoubles notwithstanding his blows▪ piercing him to the Heart, and so was dispatched without any farther noise; for Veron held his Foot on his Throat; which having done, he takes his Money, amounting to about three hundred Livers.  
Frater Claudus in the mean time returns from the Well with his Bucket of Water, not in the least suspecting what had happened, and sees Veron standing before the Wicket of the Hermitage: being entered, he sees likewise his Companion on the Ground, and began to cry out; but Veron made up to him with a Countenance witnessing fury, and with his Dagger struck him in the Brea●, laying him likewise half dead wallowing in his own Blood on the ground, who never spoke any other words than these; Ah, Veron, thou killest me; is it possible my Age cannot stop the Fury which boils in thy Soul? These words howsoever could not hinder this Tyrant (for so I call him, seeing he betook himself to two such religious persons) but that he pierced his Heart at the second stroke.  
This Murder, or rather Sacrilege, being committed, he gave himself the leisure to light two Torches which were in the Chapel, and laid them both stretched out one upon another, setting the two Torches at their Feet: then charging himself with the Money, shuts the Gate, and throws the Keys into the Field, and returns to Compeigne: And that which was most to be admired was, that he did all this in one quarter of an hour; so that he came into the City at half an hour after eight, without any bodies having perceived him, except a Baker's Boy, who coming through the Woods, and passing by this Hermitage, heard one of these Fathers cry out, Ah Veron thou killest me. And that he might not be thought to have done this, he came immediately to the same persons of whom he had demanded half an hour before what a clock it was, ask them the same question, who answered him 'twas half an hour past eight. Veron did this, that he might have Witness, if there should be occasion that he had been in Town when th● act was done.  
This Tragedy being acted after this manner, he returns to his Lodging, not letting his Wife know wha● an abominable villainy he came fro● committing. Two days are pas● without any bodies taking notice o● the Hermits not coming to the City: Veron however failed not to wal● about the Town, as assuredly as ever. At length some devout Women going to visit the Hermits, found the Doors of the Hermitage, as also of the Chapel shut, contrary to custom; upon which they began to suspect something; which suspicion nevertheless was suspended, being told by some there by, they were probably gone out in the Country nevertheless there was one among the rest who advised the Door to be broke open, that they were perhaps sick, or some other sad disaster had befallen them. This Counsel was put in execution, causing two Smiths to come from the Town to-break open the Doors; which being done, they found the two Hermits stretched out dead upon the Ground; at the sight of which they were struck with horror and amazement: they searched the Corpse, and found the Wounds near the Heart, the Body's beginning already to putrify.  
Which being known in the City, they were all astonished at so dreadful a relation, flocking to see this woeful spectacle: Veron came amongst the rest, and made show of no small sorrow for the loss of these two good Fathers, cursing with a hundred imprecations those who had done this wicked fact: They, saith he, must certainly have a great stock of Cruelty and Hardheartedness, who have executed so execrable a perfidiousness to have killed two so Religious and Devout Personages, even at the very Evening of their days: they must certainly, saith he, be possessed with diabolical fury; speaking which words, he could not so much palliate his fact, but the motions of his Soul were apparent in his Face; the nearer he approached to the Hermitage, the more he found himself agitated by, I know not what kind of chilliness and fear, which caused those who accompanied him not a little to suspect him. This suspicion took deeper root in the minds of the Assistants, when he came before the Corpse of the two poor Hermits; for at the same time the Corpse, which were dry and withered, having bled all the Blood in their Veins, began then to bleed again a fresh; whereupon all the people began unanimously to cry out that there must be one in the company concerned, seeing the dead Corpse so plainly called for vengeance; at which, every one cast their Eyes on Veron: nevertheless by his Mien he endeavoured to put by the suspicion conceived of him; but his Conscience feeling itself tormented within him, suffered him not to rest, but as a Vulture was incessantly a gnawing his Heart, making outwardly appear the inward resentments of his Soul.  
The Officers came to take away the Bodies; during which all the Citizens cast their Eyes on Veron; his frequenting the Hermitage not a little strengthening their suspicion; yet durst they not immediately accuse him, there being not any who could come in as a Witness against him.  
Their suspicion of him daily increasing, there was scarcely any thing else talked of, or concluded on, but that he was the Author. There was all inquiries imaginable made to find out something to strengthen them in this their conjecture; and at last the Baker's Boy, of whom we have before spoken, attested that he heard about eight a clock at night the Hermit, who cried out, Veron, tho● killest me; upon which simple deposition, and upon the joint conjectures of the people, it was resolved on to apprehend him; but th● difficulty was how to seize on hi● without blows, for should he have th● least notice, he would not have staid long at Compeigne; (although h● said since that, he could never hav● imagined they would dare to lay hold on him upon so frivolous conjectures) nevertheless they appointed out the day and manner of taking him, making a match with him to play at Tennis (a Game very ordinary in Picardy) just before the Prison-gate.  
The day appointed being come two or three Citizens came to him ask him whether he would go out to take some recreation; he being a man who was mightily fo● Company, agreed; whereupon they walked together till they came over against the great Gate of the Prison, where they set to their Game: they who should seze on him, failed not in great numbers to appear there, lest any resistance should happen, for he was exceeding strong and robust, and would have given them their hands full, had he had but notice of their design. As he was in the midst of his Game, there was a Sergeant who trundled slily a Ball into the Entry of the Prison, praying Veron to step for't; whereupon he goes, but was astonished seeing himself set upon by twelve or fourteen Officers, who charged him in the King's Name to yield himself: Veron was not a little amazed, seeing himself taken after that manner, being ready to burst with rage and fury, running about the Prison like a madman, seeking something to do mischief withal; and to say the truth, they who laid hands on him had enough to do with him; yet notwithstanding all his efforts, he was forced to contain himself within the Prison-walls, being loaded with Irons.  
In the mean time they drawed up his Process, there coming from all parts those which deposed against him, being accused of divers Thefts and Robberies committed both in the Woods and elsewhere; but not one of them could say any thing against him touching the Murder he was cast into Prison for, excepting the Baker's Boy, who affirmed that upon such a day he had heard, as he passed by the Hermitage, the forementioned Words. He for his defence brought in two Citizens of good repute, who affirmed they had seen him in the Town at eight a clock, and at half an hour after eight; withal adding, 'twas impossible he could perform such an Enterprise in so little a time: this made them all at a stand, putting them in doubt what to think of it. Several of the Court seeing no sufficient proof, went from their Seats, and would be no farther concerned, fearing lest they should give a wrong judgement through want of certain knowledge, knowing not what to think of it. Likelihood indeed there was, but no sufficient proof; yet howsoever, finding they could get nothing from him but a bare negation, and that the tortures of the Rack could not make him confess this crime, they proceeded notwithstanding upon probabilities, and the other undeniable crimes which he was proved guilty of, for which he was sentenced to be broken on the Wheel, which did not a little daunt him; for there was no appeal; he must on force undergo it, though it went to the Heart of him, being in the flower of his age. There was sent to him a Confessor to prepare him for death; but he would by no means hear on't: for although condemned, he flattered himself with the hope he should not die this bout; but seeing there was no respite given him, they endeavoured by degrees to dispose him for his passage.  
This man had an undaunted Spirit, and could not be brought to the belief he should die in the flower of his age: He threatened and calumniated his Judges, bidding defiance to Heaven and Earth, foaming with rage and despair, fury having so much possessed him that scarcely the Priest his Confessor durst approach him.  
He at length confessed to the Priest; but when he came to speak to him concerning his murdering of the Hermits, he cast it back with a thousand Oaths and imprecations: saying that in truth he had committed several Robberies; but touching the Hermits, so horrid a thing never so much as once entered into his mind.  
It will not be perhaps impertinent to speak a word or two concerning ●is Death, being as tragical as his Life was, and strange and horrible.  
He was led then at five of the clock 〈◊〉 the Evening to the place of Execution, there being such a multitude 〈◊〉 people who came from all parts ●o see him, that the whole City was filled with them. Veron being come on the Scaffold, which was set up before St. Cornille's Church, showed outwardly in his countenance the disdainful haughtiness which boiled inwardly in his mind.  
'Twas observed during the time he was in Prison, notwithstanding the ●rons on his Legs, he would turn and throw himself more nimbly than another man could who had none on: but here 'twas otherwise; for assoon as ever he was on the Scaffold, he walked about it with his Arms across, taking ten or a dozen turns thereon, looking more like a man despairingly mad, than one who had made his Peace with God, or who had a becoming apprehension of death; Choler ha● painted on his Front a kind of da● ring boldness. When his Sentence was reading, he listened to it with matchless gravity, stroking his Mustaches, as a person who cared littl● for Death, and who believed h● should not die that day: and indeed had he found the Bar with whic● he was to be broken, the Execution ne'er and others too would have bee● in danger to have lost their Lives for it angered him so much to leave so young and robust as he was, thi● World, that he would have hew'● his way through Rocks and Mountains to have escaped.  
But in the reading of the Sentence, when he heard he was condemned for having assassinated an● barbarously murdered two poor Hermits, he cried aloud three times, tha● the Judge lied, and that he was s● far from doing any such thing, tha● i● never so much as came once into 〈◊〉 thoughts.  
There were two men sent for on ●rpose for to finish his Execution, ●om he warned not to come near 〈◊〉, and that he'd never suffer himself to be laid on the Wheel by ●e: and to make appear that he had great strength, he was seen nine ●es one after another down on the ●ffold, and the Executioners upon 〈◊〉; notwithstanding which, he got ●p from them, and every time he got ●p he began his walks, cursing the day 〈◊〉 which he was born, wishing a housand plagues to fall upon them ●ho had condemned him, and espe●ally cursing and damning the Judge who pronounced his Sentence; be●g mad chiefly, amongst the rest, that ●e should be the first this Judge, ●eing newly made, ever had begun withal. At length, seeing he could ●ot escape, and that he must die, he yields, but with much ado; for his vigorous youth could not suffer 〈◊〉 self to be blossomed so soon.  
He was laid on the Cross then, o● which he was broken alive: h● Heart of steel, which could not b● moved before, after having endure● exceeding great torments, began t● bethink itself; wherefore he cal● his Confessor, to whom it is though he declared the whole matter. An● so, after a long struggling with Death he was at length overcome by him.    

A True and Pleasant NOVEL, As it really happened At Rouen in France.  
POverty bringeth oftentimes great alterations and changes in our Humours; Necessity pouring in a great deal of constraint in our Passions, even so far, that a man lets himself be carried away to the commission of those things which otherways would be looked upon by him as infamous, if Necessity constrained not to embrace them. There has been ever seen them, who being constrained by their Poverty, although that inwardly they have acknowledged their faults, yet however have suffered themselves to be carried away to do what they could and of this the History which write will give credit, wherein wi● be seen how many and great evi● are begotten and brought up b● Poverty; and that 'tis not without reason that every one with such ca● and fear avoids it, drawing with 〈◊〉 such dangers and misfortunes.  
In the City of Rouen, chief Sea● port, and one of the most famous Havens of France, lived a people whom I shall call Meris, whose you● promised no small fortune, as having great correspondencies in Englan● and Spain, by means of several Navigations and Voyages which he ha● made sundry times there; but For tune changed quickly the good countenance which she had at first shewe● him two years after he was married about which time he fell into such mean and poor condition, that scarcely could he get enough to subsi● on.  
Variable are the effects of For●ne; such a one thinks himself to ●ay in surety, being shaded with all ●e Happiness and Prosperity that can be hoped for in this world, and 〈◊〉 a trice he finds himself thrown ●own more low than ever before ●e was high; such is the inconstancy of all things here below, which ●ake growth and nourishment in Chance and Change: for amongst all ●hose who walk under the cope of Heaven, there is not any one can ●uely say he is exempted from the Tribute which we owe to this fickle Goddess, she engraving her Laws upon Empires and on Republics the most flourishing and Triumphant.  
Meris found her favourable in the beginning, but in the end he was constrained to assert, that the Rose is not found but amongst Thorns and Briers. All his loss came from a Ship, wherein was the greatest part of his Estate, which by means o● mighty Tempests was cast away upon the Coast of England.  
This Tempest was the first stroke that Fortune gave to his happiness, which since was seconded by many others; so that poor Meris saw himself in a short time reduced to the lowest fate that could be: nevertheless Fortune could not shake his courage, nor the generous resolution of his Wife, who was called Helen. These two Hearts were insensible to the strokes of Fortune, although reduced to such meanness: The constancy of this married couple was not a thing the least remarkable; for they lived 10 years together after this sort the best that they could; but to say truly, all this space they could not really be said to live, but to lead a linger death.  
Now although that Chance had spoiled both the one and the other of all temporal Commodities, yet Nature howsoever was pleased to bestow with prodigality every thing that was beautiful and comely on He●ne.  
She was an Abridgement and Epitome of all the perfections desirable in a Woman. She had the Mein, ●he Order, and the Port altogether ●oble. In short, nothing was wan●ing her that goes to the making up of a complete Creature: but that which was most admirable in this Woman was, that she loved her Husband so greatly, that notwithstanding all the Addresses which many of Rouen made to her, and even of the richest, who promised her Money enough, yet she would never be false to her Husband; but as one deaf to all their amorous complaints and desires, she universally despised them, and made a flout at their Prayers; in which Meris saw himself happy in his Misfortune, and could not choose but prise her as she deserved.  
Amongst all those who showed he● most affection, and who gave greatest proofs of it, there was a certain Lawyer, whom I shall call Carildus● that I may not trouble the repose o● his Ashes, and bring afresh again the day of his death in the memory o● his Friends. This Lawyer was a person come of a good stock, and had as well by his Birth as Practise got a very considerable Estate.  
He was one of the chief who with most affection solicited Helen; but never could obtain his desire, his attempts being all of them vain and unprofitable: For her admirable Chastity was the Buckler and Target on which were broken all the blows of the amorous Lawyer; all his treats served him to no purpose in this business; which having at last known, he would employ the Rhetoric of a Neighbour of his, one who likewise solicited to as little purpose as himself.  
Helen had all this while dissem●ed and concealed their importuni●es, without making her Husband acquainted; but perceiving that ●heir impudence increased every day ●ore and more, she resolved no longer to forbear, but to let her Hus●and know of it; whereupon one ●ight she discourses him after this manner.  
My dear Meris, saith she, you know how entire my affection hath been to 〈◊〉 since the day we first met: you cannot but know it; and the great love I have continually bore you may serve as a sufficient proof. I am importuned by three or four persons who attempt mine Honour; amongst others by Carildus, whom you know; he endeavours to shake my Constancy; but his attempts have been hitherto unprofitable, and ever shall be. Far be it from me that I should ever do this thing, and so falsify my conjugal Vow●; Hell itself shall open and swallow me up, rather than I will be disloyal: And 'tis for this I desire your Counsel how we shall be rid of all these importunities.  
Meris, who attentively lent his ear to these words, knowing that his Wife bore him a great and singular affection, and that on the other side she would never deceive him, made answer, My dear, I know not which way 'twill be possible for me to recompense the greatness of the affection and fidelity which you on your part have ever showed me. Yet nevertheless you see to what Fortune hath reduced us, and how greatly we are tormented with Poverty; wherefore I am of advice that you pretend to Carildus that you will content his desires, provided there be some considerable sum of Money: as for the rest, let me alone, I'll find means to disentangle myself and be rid of him.  
Helen, who heard her Husband speak after this manner, began to ca●ss Carildus with her Eyes more than ●er. He perceiving this unusual and extraordinary good will, as he interpreted it, joyful above measure, persuades himself that 'twas best beating the Iron whilst it was hot, and that he could ●ot hope for a bad issue in what he promised himself; for he saw that rigour wherewith his desires were wont to be opposed, altogether laid aside, and his love reciprocally received of his Mistress; wherefore he advertises his Confident, who participated already with him in his joy.  
Carildus familiarizeth himself every day more and more with Helen, and he thinks himself at the top of Felicity. In the end, she who feigned in the beginning to be drawn by his promises, began to lay aside more and more her averseness; saying, that not only her Poverty constrained his reception, but that he had likewise acquired such an advantage in her favour, that she coul● not live without seeing of him.  
These dissimulations so wrought upon Carildus, that he parted not from her till he had gotten her consent, and knew the day and hour in which he should come to her, having promised her 500 Crowns. The day come, Carildus failed not to tarry at a Church-door, where the night before was given the assignation, where he found his Mistress in expectation of him.  
When scarcely had they seen one another, but Carildus asks of Helen if her Husband was at home, and when she expected his return; to which she answered, that he would not be at home this eight days; For he has, saith she, some business ●hich has called him to Paris, wherefore you may come to me with security.  
Carildus, who on the other side burned and consumed in his own flame, gives her a Purse full of Gold, and immediately comes to her Lodging, where Meris had hid himself in order to the finishing of his Enterprise; for he would together with the Money have the clothes too of Carildus.  
As they were entered, there was a good Fire made, and the Lawyer began already to undress himself, when Meris came with a Club and discharges it on his Head, felling him with the blow to the Ground; and redoubling his blows, he never left striking of him till he had killed him.  
Helen, not thinking that he would ever have killed him, was very much astonished in seeing him lie dead at her Feet: her Husband howsoever assured her, telling her, that she should not trouble herself, fore would so order it, that it should never come to be known that he killed him: Wherefore, bidding her go to bed, he takes the dead Lawyer on his Back, and enters directly by a Backdoor (being well acquainted with the House) into the Lawyer's Lodging, where, the Night and Sleep favouring of him, he immediately discharges the Corpse in the place where people used to ease themselves; and so placed him on the Seat, that whosoever should come in there, would judge that he had died in this place and posture.  
Now the day before, Carildus told his Companion all the affair, and how Helen had promised him access into her Lodging: It happened therefore that this Confident of his, rising at Midnight by reason of the Gripes wherewith he had been for these four or five days troubled, as he came to the said place to ease himself, he perceived that 'twas occupied by Carildus; wherefore he was some time (being not willing to disturb him) a staying for him; but seeing that he came not out, he goes to him, pulling him by the Sleeve, which made the Corpse fall down at his Feet.  
This man being much astonished, takes his flight, and knows not what could be said in this matter; but being at length assured, he comes back again, and seeing Carildus dead, he doubts presently that he had been betrayed in Helene's house to Meris her Husband, whom he had known of a long time to be a man of his hands. Wherefore for fear lest he should be accused that he had murdered him, (for he was seen to rise) he takes him up on his Back, with intention to carry him before Meris' Door. Hitherto we have seen the mischief which Poverty doth bring with it, instigating men to the doing of those things which otherwise would be abhorred by them. Let us see now what happened to Carildus after his death: for there is Plaisantrie and Adventures perhaps never before heard or thought of.  
Carildus' Companion having taken up the Corpse on his Back, went and placed it at the same House it came out of, setting it upright against Meris' Door; then returns to his Lodging without any bodies taking notice of him. Helen, by chance too, through default of Nature, would go out of doors, it being about half an hour after Midnight, but was very much astonished that she had no sooner opened it, but the dead Body fell into the House. She cries out being affrighted, and tells her Husband that the Lawyer was come back again to their Lodging; upon which Meris rising up in haste out of his sleep, assures her, telling her she should not be troubled at the dead, protesting that he would carry him so far that he should never find his way back again. Wherefore he takes him up again the second time; and as he goes along the Street to carry him to the River, he hears a great noise, coming, as he thought, from the end of the Street; whereupon, fear, which before had no effect on him, seizeth on his Courage, making him dread the just punishment he deserved; which made him stand up close in a Street which went across, that he might see them whom he heard coming, and shun their meeting: but his fear quickly changed into joy; for them from whom he heard that noise were night-Adventurers, who just came from stealing two Flitches of Bacon from out of the House of a Baker named Philip duBois. As these Fellows passed along by this Lane where was Meris, who had got under a Bulk, he heard them talking that there was a man drew good Wine in that Street, and that they would leave their Bacon somewhere, and see whether they could make 'em rise. The proposal was agreed to, and they put their Sack into the descent of a Cellar, covering it with some Straw which they by chance there met with; and there left it. Meris, who had observed all this from his Bulk, imagines that he needs not go any further to unload himself; wherefore he makes up to the place where the Thiefs had laid the Sack, and having opened it and felt Bacon in it, he takes it out, and puts in lieu of it the dead Lawyer, and returns to his Lodging, where he finds his Wife up, and who was so concerned at what had unexpectedly befallen her, that she could not (so much was she affrighted at what had passed) go to bed.  
But when she perceived that he came back again, she thought she should have died immediately with fear; for the imagined that her Husband could not be rid of the dead Corpse: but he quickly appeased when he showed the Bacon, and gave ●er an account of his adventure; ●pon which they go to bed again, being not a little pleased at the dou●le booty they had got, which was ●ot discovered till a little while after.  
Come we now to our Thiefs, who by and by will find work enough. Whilst that Meris was returning to his Lodging, they had got to the house, drinking stoutly upon the account of their Merchandise, which they did intend to chaffer away to the Vintner. When they had drank sufficiently, they reckon, ●nd for payment tell the Vintner ●hat they had a good quantity of Bacon to sell him, and he might pay himself out of it. The Vintner replied, that he was not used to buy a Pig in a Poke; wherefore he bid ●hem let him see it, and then he knew what he had to say to them.  
The Thiefs than go to the place where they had left their Sack; and having there found it, not at all dreaming of the exchange, they take it up, fancying it though to be somewhat heavier than it seemed to be before; but of that they took no farther notice, and brought it strait to the House where they were drinking; which they had no sooner opened, but the Vintner sees poor Carildus' Head peeping out of the Sack: whereupon he begins presently to cry out upon them (for he knew the person) Oh! villains, what have you done? cries he, You have killed the Sieur Carildus, and are so impudent to bring him here to me to sell him for Bacon. The Thiefs, more astonished than he, stood as men amazed staring one upon another, and knew not what Countenance to keep: the other cried out still against them, threatening to have them soon laid by the heels, and to send for the friends of the defunct. They on the other side desired him to have patience, and not to speak of it; for they knew where they had this booty: and to accuse them of intended theft they might, but not of murder; but howsoever they would carry the Corpse back again where they had it; which they did, wondering and tempesting at this their rencontre, ask one another what they thought of it, whether this was not a strange Metamorphosis, and how 'twas possible for them to be so much mistaken as to take a Lawyer for Bacon; which saying, they come to the Baker's House, where getting up to the place from whence they had taken the Bacon, they there place the Lawyer, and withdraw. During this time, the Baker, who had a great deal of work that day to do, called a Servant of his, named Martin, to have him go to the Mill; whereupon he rises at four a clock in the Morning; the Baker commands him to make ready to go to the Mill; Marti● swears Zounds that he'd not stir a foo● before he breakfasted; and that h● would have a rasher of Bacon. Wel● having received permission so to do he takes a Ladder, and as he was go● up to the top of it, both Lawyer Servant, and Ladder fall on th● ground, and tumble one upon another. The Baker runs with his Wif● to their man's assistance, thinking that he had been dead on the ground howsoever he told them that h● had received no hurt, and that h● had escaped any mischief by reaso● that he fell on the Bacon: at whic● the Baker was well enough satisfied but when he came to look dow● and saw the Head of the Lawyer which just peeped out of the Sack it being untied, he had like with a stonishment to fall backwards in a Swoon; neither could his Wife scarcely make him come to himself again. In the end, astonished as they were at this business, they consulted how to get him from thence. The Baker had a young Colt never yet backed, whom he causes his Man to bring-him; and having clapped on him a Saddle, he fastens the Lawyer on him, so that he could not fall off, putting likewise Spurs to his shoes; and thus equipaged they lead him out into the Street, it being not past six in the Morning in the shortest days of Winter; the Baker believing that losing the sight of him he should lose him altogether, as indeed he did; for as this young Colt went on the way, it happened that one of the Spurs struck by mishap into his Side, which made him so fall a running, that he cast off his Rider into a Well, where he was never more heard of.  
FINIS.