A LETTER FROM Mr. Stephen College TO A Person of Quality, upon his Removal to Oxford, to be Tried upon an Impeachment of High Treason.  
Honoured Sir,  
I Hear I am with Confidence Reported to be a Papist (nay more, a Jesuit;) It's their hour and power of Darkness: they have the advantage and power of me, I was born to suffer, and have no possibility of Righting myself at present, but I hope e'er long I shall by a fair Trial, where all I ask is Justice, no favour; and had rather die than live suspected: In the Interim, Sir, I have sent these following lines, not for your own satisfaction, who I am persuaded are so already: But for those to whom you shall think fit to communicate them, that are otherwise, (that they are true Verse I cannot say,) but that the matter speaks (in short) the Truth of my Case, the Sincerity of my Heart, and the Sentiments of my Soul, I do most constantly affirm: My Time is precious; I beg your Prayers, and of all good Protestants (for whom I suffer;) and the Lord be with us all: Amen.  
Stephen College. Tower, 15 Aug. 1681.   

Wrongful Imprisonment 
 Hurts not the Innocent.  

WHat if I am into a Prison cast,  
By Hellish Combinations am betrayed,  
My Soul is free, although my Body's fast;  
Let them Repent that have this Evil laid,  
And of Eternal Vengeance be afraid;  
Come Racks, and Gibbets, can my Body Kill,  
My God is with me, and I fear no Ill   

What boots the Clamours of the Giddy throng?  
What Antidotes against a poisonous breath?  
What fence is there against a Lying Tongue,  
Sharpened by Hell, to wound a man to death?  
Snakes, Vipers, Adders do lurk underneath:  
Say what you will, or never speak at all,  
Our very Prayers (such Wretches) Treason call.   

But Walls and Barrs, cannot a Prison make,  
The freeborn Soul enjoys its Liberty;  
These Clods of Earth it may incaptivate,  
Whilst heavenly Minds are conversant on high,  
Ranging the Fields of Blessed Eternity:  
So let this Bird sing sweetly in my Breast,  
My Conscience clear; a Rush for all the rest.   

What I have done, I did with good Intent,  
To serve my King, my Country, and the Laws,  
Against the Bloody Papist I was bend,  
Cost what it will, I'll ne'er repent my Cause.  
Nor do I fear their Hell-devouring Jaws:  
A Protestant I am, and such I'll die,  
Maugre all deaths, and Popish Cruelty.   

But what need I these Protestations make  
Actions speak men far better than their words:  
whatever I suffer for my country's sake,  
Not 'Cause I had a Gun, or Horse, or Sword,  
Or that my heart did Treason ere afford:  
No 'tis not me (alone) they do Intent  
But thousands more, to gain their cursed Ends.   

And sure (of this) the World's so well aware  
That here it's needless more for me to say,  
I must conclude; no time have I to spare,  
My winged hours fly too fast away  
My work (Repentance) must I not delay.  
I'll add my Prayers to God, for England's good,  
And if he please, will seal them with my blood.   

O! blessed God destroy this black Design  
Of Popish Consults; it's in thee we trust,  
Our Eyes are on thee, help, O Lord, in time,  
Thou God of Truth, most merciful and Just,  
Do thou defend us, or we perish must;  
Save England (Lord) from Popish Cruelty,  
My Country bless, thy will be done on me.   

Man's Life's a Voyage, through a Sea of Tears,  
If he would gain the Haven of his Rest,  
His Sighs must fill the Sails (whilst some men steers)  
When storms arise, let each man do his best  
And cast the Anchor of his hopes (oppressed)  
Till Time, or Death shall bring us to that Shore  
Where Time, nor Death, shall never be no more.   
Laus Deo: Amen. From my Prison in the Tower, Aug. 15. 1681.   

Printed for Francis Smith at the Elephant and Castle in Cornhill, 1681.