SIR GEORGE SONDES His plain NARRATIVE TO THE WORLD, Of all Passages UPON THE DEATH OF HIS TWO sons.  
LONDON.  
Printed in the year, 1655.   

SIR GEORGE SONDES His plain Narrative to the world, of all passages upon the death of his two Sons.  
THe Ministers and godly men about me, seeing so many miseries and calamities daily befall me, before one was over an another coming on me afresh, hardly giving me breath, and still greater and greater: they did conclude, that certainly these fearful afflictions could not be laid on me for trial, or as afflictions that God lays on his children, but must be for some notorious sins formerly committed, or that now I lived in, and therefore they looked into the actions of my life: and when they had made a Catalogue of what they thought fit to charge me with, they came fairly and privately to me, and told me, they were the Servants and Ministers of God, and thought they were obliged by their office, to let me know wherein they conceived I had done amiss, and what might be the cause of all these punishments that befell me.  
I told them I took it kindly at their hands, and thanked them heartily for it, and that I would deal clearly and ingenuously with them, and conceal nothing of truth that I knew: and I could not but confess that my afflictions had been great and many, and that for these twenty years' last past, I have hardly any time been free; as the loss of my Wife and many Children when they were young, and now my two only sons, when they were come to man's estate, and I began to have comfort in them, the youngest so foully to murder the eldest in his bed sleeping, and thereby to suffer so ignominious a death at the Gallows, his foul offence justly deserving it. Then I remembered my perpetual Imprisonment for almost these dozen years, and the worst of Imprisonments, Ship board, and the sequestering my Estate for many years, and taking away all my stock, and goods, to the value of twenty thousand pounds and more, and for divers years, not allowing me any thing to keep me and my Children: and now to be taken from my house and affairs, and claped up in a country Castle, there to remain during pleasure, and God knows for what. For I profess to you Gentlemen, that notwithstanding all these Imprisonments, and Sequestrings, and clapings up, I never acted any thing against the Parliament, or State that now is, nor ever in all this time was in arms against them, or ever any ways assisted the contrary party, or joined in any Petition against them, or ever held any correspondency in any Plottings against them, nor in all their Examinations and sequestering, nor in the time I was forced to Compound for my Estate, could they charge me with any Delinquency, but only of that for not paying a tax for my park, which I refused to pay, because it was over rated, and upon abatement paid it. And this is all the Delinquency they could ever charge me with, though I had been sequestered seven years, and Imprisoned, and forced, before I could get off the Sequestration, to pay for Composition three thousand five hundred pounds. And I hope Gentlemen, said I, this is no such crying sin against God, to draw down the plagues of Heaven in such a fearful manner upon me.  
Sir, said they, we know you have suffered very much, both in your Person and Estate, and have had very hard measure; but that is matter of State, and therefore we meddle not with it; but we come to treat with you, only about those things, wherein as we conceive, you have failed in your duty towards God.  
Gentlemen, said I, let me know wherein, and I will give you the best satisfaction I can; and wherein I am faulty, I shall ingenuously confess it, and I hope then, you will join with me, to beg Heavens pardon for me.  

THE FIRST CHARGE.  
Sir, said they, we shall. In the first place, we and the Country think you much too blame, in not maintaining that free-school which Sir Thomas Sondes your Ancestor founded. For we are informed, that He by his Will gave twenty Nobles a year to a Schoolmaster, and his Diet, to teach twenty poor children of the parish of throughly, and enjoined his heirs and Executors to pay the same out of his lands for ever. This your Grandfather and Father did do, but since you came to the Estate, you have not done it.   

THE ANSWER.  
'Tis true, said I, Sir Thomas Sondes did erect a free-school in throughly, and gave six pounds a year to the Master, but not twenty Nobles, nor his Diet; And it was so good and necessary a work, that I always liked very well of it, and intended, as the Neighbours know, not only to have continued that stipend, but to have made it as much more, and so possibly may do yet. But the school-house being fall'n down, and my many troubles and Sequestrations coming upon me, for the present diverted me; and now upon the questioning of it, looking better into the Will, I do not find that Sir Thomas Sondes binds his heirs, but only his Executors to perform the same; and that he gives six pounds a year out of his lands, but says not for ever; besides in the close of that part of the Will in which he gives his Legacies, and this and other charitable bequests, in the close of all he hath these words, That for the fulfilling of every bequeathe in this my last Will and Testament, therefore, as also for the brotherly love and affection which I bear to my dear and well beloved Brother Michael Sondes Esq. I give and bequeathe to my said Brother, the Lease of the manor of Stausfield, the Lease of the Woods there, the Lease of the Parsonage of throughly, the Lease of Rushmore, and all other Leases whatsoever I have in right or possession. These Leases are all given to perform that Charitable Deed of the School, and the other Charitable Uses in his Will. Now the longest of these Leases were but for forty years, or three lives. The Leases for years being long since expired, it being threescore years since he died: and the Leases for Lives ended with my Father Sir Richard Sondes, so that I have nothing of all the Estate that was to maintain this School, nor one foot of Land as heir or Executor to him or to his Executors, and therefore neither in Law nor Conscience am I any ways bound to maintain it, having neither Lands nor any thing of an Estate from him. Notwithstanding I like so well of the thing, as I intend, (and that suddenly, if I can be at quiet) not only to give that pension of six pounds a year, towards a free-school, but also as much more, and a conveniency of an house, besides an addition of a certainty in money for the relief of the poor. Upon this, they, perusing the Will, and finding it to be as I said, rested satisfied, and approved of my good intention.   

THE SECOND CHARGE.  
Next, say they, we understand that you were Executor or Administrator to the Will of Alderman Freeman, and that he gave great sums of money to many charitable uses, and great Legacies to his friends and kindred, which you have not satisfied.   

THE ANSWER.  
It is true, upon my Cousin freeman's renouncing the Executorship, I and my Wife she being his only child) did take out Letters of Administration, and to my best ability, did endeavour to get in all his Estate, and did as it came in, pay his debts, and funeral Charges, and all the petty Legacies to divers friends, and the Legacies to his poor kindred and Servants, and was in hope there would have come in enough to pay all, but till the debt of ten thousand pounds, which the Alderman made his kindred (Certain Merchants) to owe him, and the return of the Muscovy stock, wherein the Alderman accounted he had twenty five thousand pounds' adventure, till these considerable sums were ascertained, it was dubious how the Estate would prove. I therefore treated with those Merchants his kindred, Sir Thomas Soams, and Mr. Flyer to pay the debt, they refused it, and referred it to account, and so, much time was spent about it. Then I put it in suit, and it was referred to Merchants to certify, who when they had examined all Books, in fine, made the Alderman indebted to them, two hundred and odd pounds, and so decreed for that ten thousand pounds. And for the five and twenty thousand pounds in the Muscovia stock, there never came of it to the alderman's estate above eight thousand pounds.  
These two great sums falling thus short, stopped my hand from paying any more Legacies, and thereupon followed divers suits from the kindred and others, for their Legacies, in Chancery, where I delivered in an account upon Oath, in which is set down the full of all the receipts and disbursements of the Estate, and proved it by the oath of him that managed the Estate, who was a Servant of the alderman's, and chosen by consent of all parties to do the same. And I am confident there is not in that account any thing omitted that aught to be put in, nor any thing charged that was not truly paid and disbursed. And in that account there is more disbursed by me than received, eight thousand pounds or thereabout, I am so much a gainer by it. At last the whole business upon Suit being referred to a Master of Chancery, and from him to Merchants, and from them to Accomptants, to see what the Estate would produce, after long time spent, they certified (striking off my own legacy of seven thousand pounds, and almost all other, allowing only just debts and other necessary payments) that the Estate would produce toward payment of Legacies but four shillings and a penny in the pound, the Legatees giving security to repay proportionably, if more be recovered out of the alderman's estate, there being six thousand pound debt still in demand. And thus stands the condition of the Estate, and therefore I conceive there can be no blame in me, for not paying every man his full Legacy. I protest, that I was so willing to do it, that if a thousand pounds or two would have done it, I would have disbursed it out of my own purse.  
The reason of the falling short of the Estate was from these particulars following, which was not in my power to remedy:  
First, the loss of ten thousand pounds by his kindred, which the Alderman accounted a sure debt, but it could not be recovered.  
Next, the falling short of the Muscovia stock, at least fifteen thousand pounds of what he accounted it; and this could be no fault of mine, being managed by the Company, I but received the money as they paid it in, and so put it to account.  
Then the loss of his two Ships in the Straits, taken by the Turks, that Summer before he died. Those Ships were the Hector, and the William and Ralph, which if they had come home, he computed would have been worth him eight thousand pound.  
Then he bought the Fee simple of his house, which cost him two thousand pounds, and the building and fitting of it against his Mayoralty cost him two thousand pounds more. His cashkeeper Rowland ran him out of cash fifteen hundred pounds; and his expenses in the time of his Mayoralty, and his entertainment of the King and Queen just before his death, cost him at least four thousand pounds more.  
All these losses and expenses happened since the making of his Will, and the disposing of his Estate. And besides all this, his Debts came to almost four thousand pounds more than he accounted them, which must be and are paid. All which sums amount to forty six thousand and five hundred pounds. Enough to sink a good estate. And therefore the world need not wonder, that his Estate which remains will pay but four shillings and a penny in the pound.  
I am so much a gainer by the Administration, that let me be but satisfied what I can prove I have truly paid out for him, I shall willingly quit mine and my wife's Legacy, which is seven thousand pounds, and demand nothing for it; and I am sure my child's part would have come to twenty thousand pounds at least. All my pains and attendance about it for these twenty years, I will rate at nothing; a great deal of money shall not hire me to do so much.  
Many think four shillings and a penny a small proportion; let me be free and quiet, I will be content to lose all. And I profess to Heaven, not a farthing that I have any ways got by it that I know of, but only a world of care and trouble. No man shall be content with a less share than myself, I desire nothing, and others may have what proportion the Estate will produce, and I think, no man in conscience can demand more.  
The cloth workers of late, since the time of this sad accident, sent a Letter to me for their legacy, thinking now to hit the bird in the eye: They had formerly with a long and chargeable Suit kept me in the Chancery about it; and being able to do no good with me there, than they had me to Guild-Hall before the Commissioners for Charitable Uses; and being cast out thence, cunningly under colour for relief of poor Prisoners, they got me into Salters-Hall, and there (such was the wisdom of that Court) they got a Decree for the Legacy with treble damages, such being their power, in some cases, though not in mine. This blind Decree was made, when neither I myself, nor any counsel for me was there that could say any thing to the business; and so peremptory they were, that upon my coming to town, I was served with the Order, to pay the money, and with much difficulty I got leave for me and my counsel to be heard, and upon the Hearing they reversed the Order, and referred the business to M. wild and M. fountain, authorising them to take two Accomptants to them, to examine what the Estate would produce; Mr. Bremstone, than Chaireman, saying, God forbid we should ever do so unjust an act, as to enjoin an Administrator to pay more than the Estate will produce. They had some meetings about it, but Salters-Hall being put down (as I think most justly) nothing was done. And now they come upon point of Conscience, hoping that upon this my sad loss, the Lord (as they say) would open my heart to pay the Legacy, and relieve the poor, and that God would bless me the better for it. They began their Letter thus, The wiseman saith, That words spoke in season, are like apples of gold in pictures of silver, and then they tell me that the Judges above a year ago ordered the payment of it.  
To this I answered, That to speak a word in due season, was much commended by wise Solomon; and certainly than they are as much to be discommended, who move things unseasonably, and ground themselves on things that are not true. Indeed if the money had been justly due, I think now had been no seasonable time so hastily to press it. And it is a great mistake, where they say there is an Order from the Judges of Salter's Hall, that Order being vacated. So that, if the Poor have not what is due to them, it is their fault and not mine; I long since offered them what proportion the Estate would produce, and more they ought not to desire. I said moreover to them, that neither my thoughts nor my conscience were troubled for not well performing the alderman's Will, I had done it with all the sincerity of my soul, and so little to my advantage, that I was a great loser by it. And when I have endeavoured what I can, if the Estate fall short, the blame is not mine; I had given in a true and just account of what I had received and paid.  
And for the afflictions that befell me, I told them, I must and do patiently submit to the will of Heaven, and say, God's will be done, he may punish when, where, and how he pleaseth; I wished them not to judge rashly, nor insult over another man's miseries, for thou knowest not O man what may befall thee next. The like to this of mine I desire God to divert from them all. And so I concluded my Letter.  
Now what I said to the clothworkers, I say to all Legatees yet unsatisfied, they may have that proportion the Estate will produce.  
Upon a suit of Mr. Henry Pettit's for his and his father's Legacy, it was referred out of the Chancery to Merchants, Mr. Wright, Mr. Rous, and Mr. Abdy, who appointed Accomptants to cast up the Estate, and certify to them what it would produce, and they have made it produce four shillings and a penny in the pound, allowing me neither my own Legacy of seven thousand pounds, nor hardly any other, nor my charges, which came to three or four thousand pounds. And this four shillings and a penny in the pound, the Legatees are to have, giving Security to repay proportionably, what more shall be recovered from the alderman's estate, there being six thousand pounds' debt still in demand, and two lately recovered of me.  
This proportion upon such security I am still contented to pay, or two shillings in the pound without security, as some for quietness sake have taken, and this I leave to every man's choice. And those that will so do, let them this Michaelmas term enter their names at Mr. allington's near Moor fields, who is one of the Accomptants, and they shall forthwith be satisfied.  
And I hope those who are already over-payd will without farther trouble repay their proportion, otherwise I must pay all these moneys out of my own purse, nothing of the Estate being left to do it.  
But I return to the Ministers, who as they said had yet some great matters to charge me with. I desired to know them.   

THE THIRD CHARGE.  
Then they said, That it was generally reported that my Son George was married to a virtuous and good Gentlewoman, and that when I came to know it, I would by no means give way to it, but upon my blessing forbade him to accompany with her, and that if he did not leave her, I would never look on him, or give him anything I could keep from him. And that to be sure to keep him from having her, I had consorted him with one of the most debauched young men of the country, so that it appeared, I cared not what became of his soul, if I could keep his body from her.   

THE ANSWER.  
I never knew that he was married to her, nor do I yet believe that ever he was, either according to the old or new form. And to confirm me in this belief, I have it under his own hand. In an answer of his to a Letter of hers, he says, All that she can pretend to, is, that he promised her marriage, wherein he confesseth that he might perhaps have used some foolish expressions tending that way, but conceived she would never have made use of them to his ruin; and withal tells her, That she must now lay aside those thoughts; for he did see so much inconvenience in it, by reason of the nearness of blood, and the high distaste of his Father, that it would be unhappy for them both. These are his own expressions in a Letter to her.  
Now the first notice that I had of the business, was in August, 1654. which was by a Letter from my Brother Huginson, wherein he writes, That he had thought his cousin George had come to his house out of love to Bowling, but he saw now that it was out of love to his cousin Anne Delaune, and that if it were not timely prevented, they might make themselves sure together.  
This unexpected newescame to me late at night. I said nothing then to it, but the next morning went to Lingsted, and asked for my Sister, and told her, I hoped she had not so served me, and endeavoured my ruin. She pleaded ignorance, and that she knew nothing of it, and that she utterly disliked it. I asked then to speak with her Daughter, who with some difficulty was brought to me. I said to her, Cousin, there is a business going on between my Son and you, altogether against the liking of your Parents, and if you go on, it will be the ruin of you both, for I shall never give way to it, I hold it so unlawful for Cousin Germans to Marry, and therefore if you will now lay it aside, and go no farther in it, I shall be a good friend to you, and take care to provide you a fitting Husband.  
Sir, said she, it is gone so far that I think my Cousin George will not consent to what you propound, but if he be willing, I shall not be against it, yet I think he will not. That I shall try, said I, when I come home, having not yet spoke with him about it.  
When I came home, I let my son know, that I had heard of such a business, and had spoken with his Cousin about it, and that she, finding it so distasteful to her Mother and me, seemed willing to lay it aside, if the like willingness were in him. Is she so, said he? yes really said I, I do not see but she may be persuaded to it, and so I would have you, for I tell you, if you go on, it will be the ruin of you both. Perhaps this familiarity may have somewhat settled your affections to one another, and therefore for the present, I would have you forbear going to her, and that will lessen it.  
Upon this he absented for a few days, but being underhand solicited by them to come thither, he was very importunate with me to go. I confess I was much against it, but because he so earnestly pressed it, at last I gave way to it, telling him, I hoped it might be so good, and that he would so fully tell her his mind, that she might have no more thoughts of it. About an hour after he was gone, I went after him, and when I came to Lingsted, I asked for them, and my Sister telling me they were in the Parlour, come said I, let you and I go to them, and when we came to them, Cousin and son, said I, I have already spoken to you both apart, now I will tell you my mind together. It is this. I shall never give my consent that you two shall be married together, for I do, and ever did abhor the Marriage of Cousin Germans, and therefore if you will both fairly lay it down, there need be no more words of it, and I think no wrong to either party. For if you have been so foolish, as to make engagements to one another, it was without your Parents consents, or knowledge, and between parties not fit to marry together, and now your Parents know of it, they are utterly against it, and therefore you may both disengage each other of your promises, and I think no harm done, but all well, and then Cousin Anne, be assured, I shall be a good friend to you.  
Upon this the young couple began to be something at a stand, when presently my Sister said, Brother, what if my Daughter be with child? Truly Sister, said I, it is a question very unseasonably put, and I think upon no ground, for I am confident that he did never lie with her, (which he hath often since professed, and that he did not know whether she were Man or Woman) but if she be with child, said I, the Bastard must be kept; better so then worse, for I tell you George, if you Marry her, you must not look to come within my doors. Upon this my Sister presently replied, Cousin George, be not discouraged with that, for if your Father will not receive you, I will, and you shall be welcome to me stay as long as you please. This is right, said I, now you have fully discovered yourself to be what I thought you, the main contriver of the match, I have done. Come George, said I, if you will go home with me, well and good, if not, take what comes of it, and so away I went. About half an hour after, my son followed me home, I told him, it was well he was come, and wished him to forbear going thither anymore, he followed my advice, and kept with me. But privately underhand my Sister and his Cousin sent to him, and then she carried her Daughter up to London, and there endeavoured to have them Asked at Church, and cried at Market; which coming to my ear, I prevented, and that most fearfully madded her and her party. And to prevent farther attempts of the like nature, his Uncle Dudley coming in the nick of time, and offering himself, my son also desiring it, he was admitted his companion and bedfellow to stave them off; for as soon as my back was turned, they were still soliciting of him. Then my son presently wrote a civil Letter to her, that whatever his intents were heretofore, yet the matter being now known to his Father, he did see so much averseness in him, that he could not go on; and that they were so near of blood, that he feared God would never prosper such a marriage, and therefore desired her to have no more thoughts of it. After this, her friends soliciting and troubling him, he went into Sussex with his Uncle Dudley, and was absent from me near six months. In all that time, for aught I ever heard, they kept very good company, and lived orderly, and what ever his Uncle did himself, I am sure he was careful that my son should no ways be debauched, neither did I at his return find him tainted with the vices of the times, but every way very well. I am sure he did run far greater hazards when he kept her kindred company, for I have been informed by a good hand, that there were strange plots to intoxicate him, so to work their ends, I am ashamed to mention the manner of it. Indeed they could never compass their design, for he hath very often professed that he did never lie with her, nor was ever married to her: Something they talk of, was said by a man of their procuring in a Chamber, but sure it signified nothing; for she hath discharged him of that and all his other promises to her, and as he said, did give him free liberty to marry whom he pleased. And I verily believe, had it not been for the Mother, little dispute had been about it; For not long defore his death, he was heard to say, that he would not for ten thousand pound that he had been married to his Cousin Anne de Laune, for I could not have loved her, said he, a month to an end. And I am sure of late he was so averse to them, that he could not endure any mention of her or her Mother.  
And this is the story of that so much talked of marriage. And wherein I pray you lies the heinousness of my sin in this business, if I did forbid my son to marry, where to me it seems absolutely forbidden by the Word of God, by Decrees of Ancient Councils, and not allowed by the most Orthodox and best men? I am sure the Scripture says, Thou shalt not approach to any that is near of kin to thee; and I am sure Cousin Germans are very near of kin. Let others do as they will, and make what constructions they please, the words of the Text have and ever shall prevail with me. So long as God hath given us choice enough, I think I shall not venture within the line. And what ever may be talked, it was neither smallness of portion, nor want of proportion and handsomeness, nor meanness of birth, nor unfitness of years, or any outward thing, (though perhaps there might be enough to except against) that made me so averse, but only the prohibition of Heaven, which says, Thou shalt not approach, &c.  
And now Gentlemen, if I must be punished for causing my son to obey that which I conceive to be the Law of God, Fiat voluntas Dei.  
Sir, said the Ministers, we cannot think, neither must you, that God will punish you for keeping his laws; and being you are persuaded, that it is unlawful for Cousin Germans to marry together, and that your son was never married to her according to the Church of England, nor had ever carnally known her, we cannot conceive you were at all too blame to forbid it, as soon as it came to your knowledge, but that you did well in it; such Marriages seldom or never prospering.  
But Sir, said they, being you are pleased thus fairly to treat with us, give us leave to be plain with you, and come a little nearer home to you, and tell you of some personal vices, which we think stick close to you.   

THE FOURTH CHARGE.  
As first, That your mind is too much set on the world, that you are of a covetous disposition, and keep not that Hospitality that befits your quality and estate.  
Secondly, that you are an hard Landlord, and raise your Rents, and set things for more than they are worth, or can be made of them.  
Thirdly, that though you live unmarried, yet being a lusty able bodied man, you can hardly live chastely, but must offend God in those unlawful pleasures.  
Fourthly, that you are not so observant of Family-duties, or have educated your children so virtuously, nor with that care Godly Parents ought to do.  
Fiftly, that you have not dealt so well with your younger Brothers as you ought.   

THE ANSWER.  
Gentlemen, said I, now you touch me to the quick, and make me examine all my ways, and the sins of my youth; What man is there that liveth and sinneth not? Who can say that he is clean? I confess I have sinned, and do daily, and while I live in this body of flesh, it is hard not to sin. While we live here on earth, we are still but men, and not Angels or Saints.  
But to answer to the particulars of the Charge, and first to that of covetousness. Covetousness is that which rests, as I conceive, in the affections and desires of the mind; And I profess, as far as I know my own soul, I do not, nor ever did covet my neighbour's house, Lands or Goods, or any thing of another man's, so as wrongfully to deprive him of it. I never said to gold, Thou art my god, nor trusted in uncertain riches. If my own soul deceive me not, I could act that part Christ commanded the young man in the Gospel, Sell all that thou hast, and come and follow me: I could easily part with all when he commands. I have been deprived of Houses, Lands, Goods, Liberty, and that causelessly, in an instant, my losses have been to the value of thirty or forty thousand pounds; And I thank Heaven, I never shed tear, nor broke nights sleep for it. I have peace and quiet within. These outward losses never troubled me. They seemed so loose upon me, and cleaved so little to me, that the parting from them never drew drop of blood from me, or caused so much as one sigh. I found myself still, and a contented and happy man, though I wanted them. I saw they added little to it. And should the like befall me again, I doubt not but I should still be the same. By this I find my heart is not set on covetousness. But if an honest endeavour, not to suffer a man's self to be defrauded and cozened (though I think I have been so as much as any) and if to manage an Estate as near as I can to the best, if to improve it and busy a man's self about it, if that be covetousness, I think I am guilty of it. Sure there is good warrant, both from Reason and Scripture, that every man should labour and endeavour in that way God hath placed him, and should tend to something. If God hath blessed my endeavours in these ways; men may envy it, but sure no blame is due to me for it.  

To the Charge of Hospitality.  
You charge me for defect in Hospitality. I am sure no man's house in the Country is more open to Poor and Rich than mine; and if the jealousies of the times, and my own restraint did not now hinder, it would still be more open. As it is, I am sure there are constantly twenty poor people at least weekly relieved, and that more than once. My lowest proportion in my house, whether I be there or not, is every week a Bullock, of about fifty Stone, a Quarter of Wheat, and a Quarter of Malt for drink, which makes about a barrel a day for my household. I mention not Sheep and other things more or less, when I and my Children (when I had any) were at home. Sure this is no very niggardly proportion for a Family.  
And for setting poor people to work (which I take to be as good a deed as most) I think few have exceeded me. I am sure for well nigh thirty years (except three or four that I was in prison) I have expended on Labourers and Workmen, at least a thousand pounds a year. And I do not know of one that I have employed in all this time, or in all my life, Servants or others, whom I have defranded of their wages, or not paid them their hire.  
'Tis true, there is a Smith who did some work about ploughs and Carts, and shooing of Horses, just at the time I was sequestered and carried to Prison, when he demanded money of me, I told him, the Sequestrators, who had the Ploughs, and Carts, and Horses, and the corn, and all, aught in conscience to pay him, and not I, who had no benefit of it; Him I turned over to the Sequestrators, as I thought I had just reason to do.  
There is likewise a Sandwich man, in a store-house of whose, I had about thirty or forty Quarters of Wheat. This the Sequestrators also took away, and when he demanded Money of me for the hire of his Room, I refused to pay him, telling him, those that have the Corn ought to pay for the Room. Other than these I know not any, to whom I have denied payment, and I conceive there is much reason why they should not be paid by me, and therefore I hope no great offence to Heaven in this.   

To the Charge of being an hard landlord.  
'Tis said I am an hard landlord, and raise my Rents. I confess as Tenants Leases expired, I took no Fines to renew, as my ancestors used to do, but let out my farms at improved Rents, both the Tenant and myself better liking of it. But I do not know that I let farm to any Tenant, for more than I thought, (and I had some little skill) it was really and honestly worth, nor for more then, (had I been to have taken a farm) I would have given for it myself. Nor have I any Tenant (though the times be now very bad) who shall say, Sir, my farm is too dear, I cannot live upon it at the Rent, if he leave it to me but as good as it was when he took it, I will take it again. Nay, notwithstanding Corn is so cheap, I give any Tenant I have, liberty to leave his farm, and I will take it. I never did, or ever will, force any Tenant to keep his farm. Neither in all this time, hath any Tenant come to me to take his farm again. Some indeed I would have outed of their farms (being none of the best Tenants) but could not persuade them. I never arrested or imprisoned any Tenant for his Rent, nor willingly used any severe course, if I could indifferently be satisfied any other way. I have scarce demanded my Rents of late, because of the cheapness of Corn, but have made all the shifts I could to get money to serve my occasions, and spared my Tenants, that they might not be forced to put off their Corn at too mean rates. If these be the signs of an hard Landlord, than I am one.  
There is one Ellen of Stausfield, I hear, hath complained of me for being so. I will tell you the case, and then you shall judge whether I deserve it or not.  
Last Michaelmas was two year, I let a farm there to him of forty pounds a year. At the end of the year, I sent to him for his Rent; his answer was, that it went hard with him the first year, being to buy all his stock and seasons, therefore he desired me to have a little patience till he could make money of his corn; upon his desire I did forbear him. About half a year after, I sent to him again, and then he said, Corn was so low that he could make but little money of it. Upon this I forbore him till the other year was up, and he indebted to me two years' rent, and went myself to him, and wished him to leave the farm if he sound he could do no good upon it. He desired to keep it, hoping the times would mend, and offered to make over his stock to me for my security; this he did, and continued in his farm, and at Lady day next promised to clear all. About a month after the time, I sent to him to fulfil his promise, and was informed that he had sold all his corn, driven away his Stock, and carried all his Goods, and was gone himself, and had left me about twenty pounds worth of corn on the ground, to satisfy for three years' rent, which was six score pounds; so I was to be a loser one hundred pounds by him. This is the truth, and who now do you think did the wrong? Many of these hardnesses have I used to my Tenants, and have been so served by them.   

To the Charge of living unmarried.  
To that Charge of my being unmarried, and not living so chastely and virtuously as a Christian ought to do; I confess, that for almost these twenty years I have lived unmarried, and I thank Heaven, I have an healthy able Body, and have natural and carnal affections in me, and a love to Women and their company, and I think he deserves to be unmanned that hath not.  
I confess I have been more vain and foolish with them than I ought to have been, Heaven forgive me. But for committing Fornication or Adultery with any Single or married woman, I protest before Heaven (though perhaps few may believe it) I am clear from it. I never had illegitimate issue, nor ever had carnal knowledge of any woman, save of my own Wife; nor of her, but as was fitting for procreation; seldom or never, after I knew her to be with child.  
Neither was this abstinence in me, from any frigidity or disability in Nature, for my dispositions that way, were (I think) as strong as most men's. Neither was it for want of invites and opportunities to it, of them I had enough. Nothing restrained me, but the fear of offending Heaven, vox illa terribilis, always sounding in mine ears, Whoremongers and Adulterers God will judge. This hath all along been the bridle to my unlawful desires, and I hope ever shall be.   

To the Charge of neglecting Family duties.  
To that of ordering my Family and duties thereto belonging, I confess, it is an excellent thing, when the Master can say, I and my house, do and will serve the Lord. But it is hard in a great and numerous Family, to have all so well minded. It is the Master's part to see them perform the outward duties of God's service, as Prayer, and going to Church, and to show them the way by his own godly example; this I was always mindful of, frequenting the Church on the Lord's day both Forenoon and Afternoon, if not hindered by the weather, or some extraordinary occasion, and calling upon my Servants to do the same. And all the week after, it was my constant course, to pray with my Family once, if not twice every day; and if I had not a Levite in my House, I performed the office myself.  
'Tis true, though in my own private devotions, Morning and Evening jused constantly, without failing, my own conceived Ejaculations to Heaven, yet, to my Family, after the reading some part of the Scripture, I commonly used the set forms of Prayers of the Church, or of some other godly men: which in public meetings, and no extraordinary occasion happening, I conceive to be very fitting, and sufficiently warranted, both from Moses, David, and Solomon, who composed Prayers for the Church; as likewise from Christ himself, who made a Prayer for his Disciples, and bid them pray This; Our Father, &c. It is warranted also by the practice of Christ, who sure had the Spirit of Prayer as much as any, yet in his Agony he used no variety, but three several times, as the Text hath it, went and said the same words, Father if thou wilt, let this cup pass from me. He quarrelled not at the set form, nor do I know why any man should. If another man have composed a Prayer, whose words speak my mind to the full, and peradventure more full than my own words can do it, why should not I use them? Let thy heart and affections go with his words, and then they are thine own.  
I confess I like not praying by rote; and I think him but a dull Christian, who cannot or does not upon extraordinary occasions, pour out his soul to God in his own words. Thou mayest have some soars, which none but thy own words can discover. But at a public meeting, & upon a general confession of our sins, when we all join together in Prayer, what a pleasant harmony, or rather thundering violence doth it use to Heaven gates, to bring down a remission of our sins? And this hath the Church of God used heretofore. For my part I cannot dislike it, so the public be not omitted, for I confess, Nothing speaks a Christian better, than frequency in prayer, no duty comes near it. It makes thee acquainted with Heaven, it begets a familiarity between thee and thy god: that ye shall not be strangers one to another; you have a friendly converse together: it brings down Heaven to thee, it lifts thee up to Heaven. It is the key that unlocks all God's treasures. It is the Columbus, which discovers and brings home to thee, that Terra incognita, and more than Indian treasure. It makes Heaven and Earth all one. It makes thee see and enjoy God himself, without thy dissolution. The weak-sighted owls and Bats of this world, see not God, except he express his goodness to them, in giving them Riches and Honour, and Wives, and Children, and such outward blessings; and more or less, as they receive of these, they judge of God accordingly. But thou shalt, when God hath taken away thy Children, and all other outward things, thou shalt see them really in him, and with more comfort than when thou hadst them here. For here thou enjoyedst them with a mixture of ill, in him thou enjoyest them pure, and all other happinesses beside. Thou hast the fountain Head, and Body of the sun, from whence all these Rivulets and beams proceed. This elixir and sovereign balm, a wise Christian will not lose. I have found it the sole medicine for all my afflictions, and as I ever have, so I ever will make use of it.  
The Apostles advice to the Thessalonians, Pray continually, is excellent, and I wish all Christians to follow it.  
But I pray Paul let us reason it a little. Pray continually? must we pray when we enjoy? Prayer implies want, and want causeth sorrow and mourning. And can the children of the Bridechamber mourn, while the bridegroom is with them? and canst thou want any thing who enjoyest thy God? Thou injoyest not him, if thou wantest, or desirest any thing besides himself. And if thou injoyest him, what hast thou to pray for? thou hast already the fruition of what thou canst pray for, or desire. Sure than thou art to rejoice, and solace thyself in thy God. Thou art already arrived at this Harbour and Haven of happiness. Thou needest then no more winds, no fresh Gales of Prayer to fill thy sails, and carry thee to thy Port. Thou art come to it, thou Mayst now strike sail, and be at rest, thou hast no farther to go then to thy God. Whither wouldst thou sail? what? go from thy God again? wilt not thou rest thyself now thou art come to him? what wouldst thou have?  
Oh but poor soul, thou canst not always enjoy these feast days. The sun of righteousness will not always shine so clear upon thee. There are Mists and Clouds, that do, and will daily arise from thy own Corruptions, which will obscure and darken that sun, and keep his cheerful light from thy soul, and cause him to hide his face from thee. There will be times when the Bridegroom shall be taken away, as our Saviour says, when thou shalt have lost him whom thy soul loveth. What wilt thou do then? that will be a sad time indeed, and then thou hadst need Fast, and mourn, and Pray, and night and day seek after him, thou hadst need hoist all thy sails to follow him, and run about the streets, and call to the Watchmen to help them, and use all means, both by thyself and others, to find him out, and when thou hast found him, be sure to bold him fast, and not let him go.  
But poor soul, thou canst hardly hold him so fast here, but thy corruptions will quickly lose him from thee again. Ay, Paul, thou knewest that too well, and that made thee cry out, I desire to be dissolved, and to be with Christ.  
While thou art in this veil of flesh, thou canst not fully and without intermission enjoy thy Saviour. God said to Moses, no man should see his face and live. Here we must be content to see his back parts, till we put off these rags and clogs of corruption. When we come to Heaven, and not till then, we shall see him face to face, and be blessed with an everlasting fruition of him. Oh then pray continually, pray here without ceasing.   

To the Charge of the Education of my Children.  
Now for the Education of my Children, this I say. In their younger years, they were tender and weak, and when I had buried many other, and had only them two, I confess, I was more fond and indulgent, and gave more way to them, then otherwise I should have done. Yet I do not know that I omitted any thing that was fitting for them. As soon as they were of years convenient, I put them out to very good and careful Schools, Brumly and Wye, where I was often myself with them, to see that their Masters educated them well, both for Religion and Learning, and was ever careful to have them accommodated with all other Masters, to learn from them such things as their ages were capable of. From School I carried them to Cambridge, where I made choice of an able and godly Tutor, and placed them in Sidney College. When they had been there two or three years, I brought them to London, intending to send my Eldest abroad into France, and my Youngest to the Inns of Court, because he had no disposition to travel. I went with my Eldest once or twice to Dover for that end, but France being at that time in much garboil, I durst not venture him. After that, some overtures of Matches stayed him, and the Eldest not going abroad, the Youngest would not be persuaded to go to the Inns of Court, (though I much pressed him to it) but would keep with his Brother. I desired nothing more, then putting him upon some employment, and gave him his choice to take to what he would, but never could get him to take to any.  
Whilst they were in London, I had several Masters, who came to my lodgings to instruct them. Their Singing, dancing, and Fenceing-Masters, and one who read the mathematics. Thrice a week they went to the Mues to ride the great Horse. These Exercises they had constantly, and their Masters, who were accounted the best in town, cost me about six pound a week.  
Every night I caused them to read a Chapter or two, and then prayed with them, and willed them to use also their own private Devotions.  
On the Sabbath days I carried them to hear (as I thought) the best Preachers, and discoursed with them of what they heard.  
On the week days, they often went to Lectures, and I took the best care I could, to keep them from idle company, and not fitting sports, though Youth will have its vanities.  
By my own example, and best counsel, I dissuaded them from debauchery. For I thank Heaven, no man can tax me for Swearing, Drinking, Whoring, or Gaming. I never to my knowledge, swore an Oath, but before a Magistrate, nor ever drank so much as might unman me, and make myself a Beast, I ever abhorred it. Though I must confess, that I have sometimes (yet but seldom) for company sake drank more then enough, or did me good.  
I never was in Whore-house, or used Whore, nor ever gamed for more than I was indifferent whether I won or lost. I never played for love of Money, only for company and recreation. And I dare confidently say it, my sons were also free from those vices, except Gaming. I do not think they did ever swear or whore. My youngest could not endure Wine or strong drink, and my eldest but seldom drank it. To that foolish sport of Cocking they were addicted, but the youngest most, as also to Carding. He would play somewhat deep at those games, but never at Dice. I often chid him, but could never break him of it. My eldest had handsomely left both, and was ready to harken to his father's advice, and I think, was virtuously disposed. I am confident, all the world could not make him commit a known sin. He never failed Morning and Evening, to betake himself to his private Devotions, that I observed, neither do I know any vice that he was inclined to, he was of an affable, mild and soft nature, which won him the hearts of his friends and acquaintance; but his Brother of a contrary, pleasing and courteous to none, but crossgrained to all, as much to his Father as any, and I knew not how to break him of it. I was in hope, that years and discretion might in time have made him to leave it, and so possibly it might, had not envy to his brother's virtues, and growing goodness, thrust him upon that devilish fact, which caused him most deservedly to be cut off by a shameful death, before he was come to the age of twenty years.  
This is all I shall say for the Education of my Children. I am sure, night and day my care, and my prayers has been for them. More than I did, I know not what to do. Many a Father who hath not been at half that care and cost I have been, have had their Children do much better, could not do worse. But God's will be done. Many are made to believe that I kept the youngest very short of maintenance. To that I shall say nothing here, but what Master Boreman, a Reverend and grave Divine, had from his own mouth, and is ready to testify. That Gentleman who was with my Son Freeman to the last, once put the question to him, what maintenance his Father allowed him; he answered, I never asked any thing of my Father, but I had it.  
Indeed he might well say so, for I ever gave them, not only when, but commonly before they asked; and then, not bread for stones, but usually better and more than they desired.   

To the Charge about the younger Brothers.  
To that of my younger Brothers by a second venture, I say, I did more for them then their Father either would, or could have done, had he lived.  
I took the same care for them in their Education, as if they had been my own; if they will not make good use of it when they come to age, it is their own fault; not mine.  
When my Father settled an Estate on me upon my Marriage, he reserved at least one thousand pounds a year, to raise Portions for his younger Children. But before his death, this was sold away, and he was indebted beside, near four thousand pounds. He had a Sister, and another Son my whole Brother, to whom he left nothing.  
All his Estate and goods apprised, amounted not to above a thousand pounds. Yet I administered, and paid all his Debts, there was not any could justly demand a farthing, Indeed, I took some time to do it, but at last paid all; which cost me three thousand pounds more than his goods were apprised at.  
To my father's Sister during her life, I gave her diet with me, and fifty pounds a year out of my own Estate, and to my Brother who was a Student in the Law, I gave one hundred pounds a year, as long as he lived, out of my own Estate likewise.  
My half brothers were thus provided for. The eldest, who was then a Man grown, I sent to travail, and allowed him one hundred pound a year; I am sure, he never before spent my Father twenty pounds a year. The second having something of a scholar, I sent with Letters of recommendation to Leiden, to study physic. The third had a mind to be a soldier in the Low-Countries, thither I sent him, and I furnished him with money to buy places of preferment as they fell, and he is now a captain or a Major. The fourth I put Apprentice to my Father in law, a Merchant, who loved him dearly, and would have done much for him. Before he died, he run his Master fifteen or sixteen hundred pounds out of Cash and spent it, and I am almost forced to pay it for him. The fift I bound to a Russia Merchant, and gave with him two hundred pounds. During his Master's life he was employed in Russia, and after his Master's death returned, but I sent him thither again, and to encourage him, adventured two or three hundred pounds with him, which he fairly spent, & then betook himself to other courses. The sixt I bound Apprentice to a woollen Draper in Paul's churchyard, and gave one hundred and twenty pounds with him. He served out his time, and was a journeyman a while, and had thirty pounds a year of his Master, and twenty of me. But he soon grew weary of his employment, and running into his Master's debt, was forced to leave the town, and then to mend the matter, unfortunately married. The seventh was a Daughter, to whom I allowed for her maintenance forty pounds a year, and offered upon a convenient match, to have given five hundred pounds' Portion with her, but she, when I was sequestered and in Prison, before I ever knew any thing of it, married herself to one of the Sequestrators of my Estate, who is, now he comes to live upon his own, worth I think but little.  
This is a true relation of what I did for my half-brother and Sister, which I think is not much amiss. And I still continue to every one of them, (though they have not made good use of the courses they were put in) an allowance of thirty pounds a year out of their mother's Estate; if they will take no course any ways to help themselves, and better their Fortunes, the blame is not mine. I am sure, had I not used all the friends and interest I had, and disbursed a good sum of money too, a Courtier had begged their Mother, being a lunatic, and then there had been nothing at all to maintain them. What their Mother doth not spend, they have, and shall have fairly distributed among them after her decease. In the mean time they shall do well to look out for some additional subsistence, for the dividend will not be much.  
And thus I have given you an account of the Education and maintenance of my half Brothers. There is much fault found with me, because I denied to lend my third Brother a sum of money, about one hundred pounds, which he lately writ to me for out of the Low-countries. 'Tis true, I did deny it, and upon this account. I was at that time, with divers others, a Prisoner in Upnor Castle. Cause I knew none, but we suspected it might be for fear of the Swedish Army, lest they should draw down this way, and the Hollander joining with them, some party of this Nation might be assistant to them. Just at this time when all the fears and jealousies were upon the Nation, and many everywhere committed, comes my brother's Servant with a Letter, and tells us of the near approach of the Swedes.  
The Governor of the Castle looked very strangely on the business, and all my fellow Prisoners began to wonder, to see a man come over to me at that time from thence, and I was as much, and more than any, troubled at it, but could not help it. Yet to do the best I could to avoid all suspicion, so soon as I had read the Letters, I gave them to the Governor to read, one of which being in French, I Englished to him, not knowing but that he might suspect something of privacy, I let him know, that I was sorry the messenger came to me at such a time. The Money I could not furnish him with, being a Prisoner, and had not but for my own expenses, and I told the man I neither would, nor durst let him have it, if I did know where to get it, and therefore wished him to return again as soon as he could, for I knew there would be jealousies upon me, so long as he was here. I desired him not to come to me, or to speak to me in private. I knew there was nothing yet to charge me with, but should I now be sending money over-sea, they might then pretend to enough. Therefore I wished the messenger to return to my Brother, and in a Letter which I sent then to him, desired to be excused, if I had some care of my own safety. So I sent the messenger away, having paid for his lodging and diet, and given him some money in his purse. And, to my sense, I did in that juncture of time, what was fittest to be done, blame it who will.   

The Ministers reply.  
Sir, said they, you have given us most satisfactory and Christian answers to all these things you seem to be charged with: we see how easy a thing it is for foul tongues to slander honest men behind their backs. We only wish that these your answers were made more public to satisfy the world.  
Gentlemen, said I, there is one thing more I am charged with, which though it come not from you, but from another hand, yet may possibly be in your thoughts. I would give some answer to that, and then I have done.   

The Charge of being a royalist.  
Some there are who seem to wonder why Sir George Sondes should be so great a royalist, having all along been so virtuously bred, and made such profession of Religion.    

THE ANSWER.  
I confess I was trained up in Religion, from my childhood, and when I was sent to Cambridge, had Doctor Preston a very eminent and godly man for my Tutor; of whom, I thank God, I learned much good; And by my familiarity with him, I came acquainted with those who were most esteemed; but I never to my knowledge, heard from him or them, but that a good Christian, and a royalist might stand together.  
As they taught us in the first place to fear God; so the next was, to honour the King. And I am sure, nothing is more frequent in Scripture, than the requiring us to perform our vows, both to God and Man. And I am as sure, I was bound by many several Oaths to my King, which I did not so readily know how to dispense with. Yet I never was so great a royalist, as to forget I was a freeborn Subject. Our King I was willing to have him; but not our Tyrant, or we his Slaves. I was ever for Reformation in Church and State, but not for Extirpation. I was never against reducing of Bishops to their pristine function of taking care of the Churches, nor of the rest of the Clergy, to take them off from secular employments: But to unbyshop them, and take away all orders and degrees, and a certainty of maintenance from them, this I understand not.  
I was ever for Order, & Government, both in Church and State. Parity speaks nothing but confusion and ruin. God is the God of order, and therefore of his own Courtiers he hath degrees, Angels and Archangels, and so is his Court also composed. The spheres all differ in their magnitudes, and move one within another; his lights vary in their bigness, greater and lisser. The Choristers of Heaven have their varieties, and do not all sing the same note; and if in the Quires here, the Organs should have pipes all of one size, the music would be but dull. If the Bells were all Tenors, there would be little pleasure in ringing; and it would be a bad comfort, where there is not as well a Treble, as a Base viol. I can cost my eye on nothing in the whole Universe, but hath, and invites to degrees, only Religion must have its parity. That which is the rule and order to all other things, must that be out of Order? what is the reason? It is say they, because our great Master so commanded it, saying, among you it shall not be so. What is it he says shall not be so? why, you shall not tyrannize over, and enslave those that are under you, as the rulers of the Gentiles do; but he that will be chief among you, let him be your servant. And so he is, and aught to be who governs aright. The greatest chieftain is the greatest Servant, and hath the greatest care of those that belong to him. Ye call me Lord and Master, says Christ, and 'tis true, so I am; and if your Lord do such mean offices, think not much for you to do the like. He forbids not Mastery, but enjoins humility and brotherliness. This, learned Divines make to be the true meaning; and those that give it another sense, are certainly mistaken. But that is no wonder in these times. Paul, who was bred at the feet of Gamaliel, and abounded in Revelations, and was full of the Spirit, yet at the difficulty of the work, said, who is sufficient for these things? who is able to wade into these depths? and yet now our illiterate mechanics, who must have seven years to learn their own trade, will at seven days or less, undertake to teach this. Oh Divinity! thou that art the apex, and chief of all Sciences, thou to whom all other are but handmaids, that art, ars artium, & scientia scientiarum, art made too cheap thus to be humbled.  
Nor was I ever against taking away Monopolies, and arbitrary impositions, and Imprisonment of the free Subject, Nor against lessening the exorbitancy of favourites, who like Drones sucked and devoured all the Honey which the commonwealth's Bees, with much toil gathered.  
I went with them so long as it was for King and Parliament, and I think did them as faithful service as any: But when it came to Parliament, and no King, and Parliament against King, than I bogled, I knew not what to do. I was contented to fit still, and not do: against my Conscience I could not, nor would not do. And though I have suffered enough, yet I never acted any thing against the State, never was in any Plot or Petition against them, No so great a royalist then.  
For my Religion, I am what I ever professed, and I hope better than ever I was; for I know that non progredi est regredi.  
I ever loved solidities. Formalities and outward shows of a leafy Religion never took with me. I ever suspected those, who to seem more holy and Religious to the world, had their Congregations apart, crying stand off to their Brethren, I am holier than thou, and talk like the proud Pharisee, God I thank thee, I am not as other men, and brag of new Lights, sprung from old Heresies, and will not be contented with those ancient apostolical, and holy practices of the Church, but will have the Sacraments after a new way and time too, and are angry if the Scripture be not taken in their sense, when God knows, they understand not one word of the original to expound it by; That care not how foul their heart be within, so they can but with their eyes and hands make a show of holiness, and seem to be very strict in keeping the Sabbath, though they break all the other commandments, as if he that said, thou shalt keep holy the Sabbath day, had not likewise said, thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal.  
I remember it is written, that God was not in the fire, or the boisterous wind, but in the soft and gentle voice. And Christ says, learn of me, for I am lowly and meek. These boisterous and fiery spirited men, I much doubt whether the Spirit of God be in them or no.  
I am and ever was far from deriding or scoffing at any of them. I only wish that they were what they seem to be. I meddle not with them, but leave them to stand or fall to their own Master.  
The way that I profess and propose to myself, to walk in, is quite different, but I think a sure one, 'tis short but full, Christ his own way, and this it is, To love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and thy neighbour as thyself.  
I thank heaven, I have endeavoured these things in the whole course of my life. I never feared any thing in the world more than sin, because it offended my God, nor ever was much troubled with any outward losses and crosses, so long as I found I had peace within myself, and with my God. And I praise God, in the midst of this deluge of troubles which might have sunk an ordinary ship, I have hardly taken in any water, but that of tears of repentance, and tears of natural love and affection, which could not but be abundant in my condition, yet I have not been overwhelmed with them. The good hand of God still sustained me, and his comforts ever refreshed my soul, so that thorough the thickest darkness of this black and fearful cloud I could see the Sun of comfort. I knew my God was all-sufficient, and that he both could and would in his good time totally dispel it, and restore me the like comforts again.  
For that other branch of Love to my Neighbour, this I can say. That to the poor I have ever been charitable, and relieved their necessities, as occasion was offered, and so shall do as long as I live, and at my death, not forget to do them good, as the members of my Saviour Christ.  
My other neighbours, of what quality soever, I have treated as Brethren. I never to my knowledge, or with my good will, wronged or defrauded any. In all my dealings with them, I have still made that my rule, to do as I would be done by. To my best remembrance, I never did that to another, but I was contented should be done to me in the same case. And he that walks by that rule, cannot err, it is our Saviours; and as himself says, it is the fulfilling of all righteousness.   

THE LAST CHARGE.  
Some are of opinion, that I can hardly forget or forgive an injury done to me.   

THE ANSWER.  
I desire no more to be forgiven of Heaven, than I am ready to forgive all the world. Heaven itself doth not promise pardon and forgiveness, but to the penitent sinner. You must acknowledge your offence, you must be sorry for your sin, you must promise and endeavour amendment, before you can expect forgiveness of God.  
I have been as foully injured, and as deeply wounded, and that by those of near relation, from whom I have highly deserved, as possibly could be. Yet let them perform to me the condition God himself requires, and I both can and will forgive them. More than this I conceive God requires not. Our daily prayer is, Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us.  
Otherwise then thus to forgive, is to seem as though you slighted, or did not understand the injury. And what would the effect of this be, but an encouraging the same parties, or others to do the like again, or worse.  
We all offend God and our Neighbour. And our saviour's rule is, to forgive, not to seven times, but to seventy times seven times, that is, to a numberless number.  
If the injuries and affronts done to me be not too notorious and wilful, I can and do daily forgive them undesired, I never mind them. But if they be great and speak loud, even then, if the party will but acknowledge them, and profess hearty sorrow for them, be the offence never so foul and great, I have a charity to forgive them. More than this I think is not required of man, or begged of God.  
Now that I can and have thus forgiven, is evident by that short Prayer I composed, and was used in my Family for my Son Morning and Evening so long as he lived, and recommended to the Churches about me. I am sure a greater injury could not be done to me than he did.  

The Prayer.  
LOrd, we beseech thee look down in mercy on that most miserable and unhappy creature of thine (if thou be not the more merciful) Freeman Sondes. Lord soften his hard and stubborn heart, and give him a true sight of his most heinous and bloody sin, and an hearty sorrow for the same. Lord give him grace to turn to thee by true and unfeigned repentance, that so thou mayst have mercy on his poor soul. Thou art the fountain of mercy, and all flows from thee. His Father upon his earnest desire, though he killed, oh! foully killed his dear Son, and ruined him in all his hopes, hath pardoned him. Oh! do thou then, oh Father of mercies, in that sad hour of his death, receive him into thy arms of mercy, that his mournful Father may yet have this comfort, that, though thou hast made him childless, and left him not one Son alive on earth, yet, (which is much better) they may live with thee in Eternal bliss in Heaven. Dear Father, grant us this our request, and that only for thy beloved Son Jesus CHRIST his sake our Lord and only Saviour. Amen.   
In his Examination at Maidstone before the Justices, when he was asked what provoked him to commit so foul an act? 'tis strange to see how he seems to make my hard using of him to be the motive and provocation: whereas it is well known to all, that never Son was treated more tenderly by a Father. I will set down the effect of his Examination, and my Answer to himself by a Letter, when I came to the knowledge of it, and the true story of the Doublet he so much complained of, attested by divers who were then by. And when at last he asked forgiveness of me, and desired to hear from me, you shall see my bowels toward him in my last Letter.  

The effect of his Examination.  
The fact of murdering his Brother, he freely confessed before the Justices. It is already in print, and it is my grief to repeat it. But being asked why he did it, He answered, It was, because upon a difference between him and his Brother, about a week before May day last, concerning a Doublet, his Father threatened that he would ruin him, never look on him more, keep him short while he lived, and at his death make him a Servant to his Brother: that whereas it was said by some that he had a thousand pounds a year, I would not leave him a thousand groats, and that I would make him as poor as his uncle Nicholas; and that for the space of four years' last past, he hath not had of his Father forty pounds, he believeth not twenty; and that his father's displeasure against him still continued.  
These, if truths, might have been ground of discontent, but no provocations to so wicked an act. But he who is the father of murders, is also the father of lies, and taught man this lesson from the beginning. We are all apt to lay our faults on others, our Father Adam did it in Paradise: The Woman whom thou gavest me, said he, she gave me of the fruit and I did eat: As if he had said, if thou hadst not given her to me, I had never eaten of the forbidden fruit. Oh ingrateful Adam, to upbraid thy Maker who gave thee a Woman, the best of Creatures for an help, and not for thy ruin! O wicked Son, so to pervert thy father's words which were spoken to thee for thy amendment, but not for thy hurt! My Letter to him will declare the truth, and in what manner the words were spoken to him.  
Can it be imagined, if any thing had past that had troubled him about that Doublet, that it should provoke him to commit that foul fact a quarter of a year after, especially since he had the same, if not greater opportunity all along, and all manner of respect and kindness both from his Brother & me passing still to him to the very night before, and all former quarrels quite forgot? I had been from them seven weeks a Prisoner in Upnor Castle, and did not see them, but as they came sometimes to me, passing between London and my house. I came not home many days before, and the very day before, I and both my Sons were at Feversham to see a Match at Running, a sport they delighted in, we were as pleasant as ever, and so went to our Chambers & Bed without the least show of any discontent. But I will show you my son's Letter to me, and my Answer to him, which will discover the truth of these things.  
Freeman's Letter.  
Most dear and loving Father,  
ALthough through the heinousness of my offence, I am become unworthy to see your face more in this world, yet I hope such is your Fatherly goodness that you will vouchsafe to accept and read these few and last lines of your dead Son. Dead to yourself, dead to all this world, and I hope through God's grace, dead to sin, but alive to God through Jesus Christ our Lord. Sir, I praise God, I am come to a sight and sense of my sin, I begin to feel the weight of my burden, but I hope the Lord Jesus will very shortly ease me; in full assurance whereof, I desire to be dissolved and to be with Christ. Sir, I desire you may have comfort in my death, although you have had little in my life: For, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son. The Lord make me worthy to be one of his. Sir, all I beg at your hands, is your pardon, your blessing, your prayers, which I doubt not to obtain. I am now near my journey's end, and I hope in a very short time to rest in Abraham's bosom, whither my Brother is gone before me. Is gone! hinc illae lachrymae! and you my dear Father shall in God's good time follow after. Comfort yourself with these words. Sir, I hope through the strength of God's grace to look death in the face courageously, and depart this world penitently; not doubting but that when I shall petition, Lord remember me now thou art in thy kingdom, I shall to my unspeakable comfort, receive that gracious answer from the mouth of my triumphant Saviour, This day shalt thou be with me in paradise. In prayer for which and assurance whereof, through faith in the Lord Jesus, with my humble thanks for your tender love and Fatherly care from my very cradle to this day, although undeserved, my humble duty presented to yourself, praying to God to make you happier without us than you were with us, I humbly take leave.  
Your Son for a few days, 
 But I hope the Son of God for ever, 
 FREEMAN SONDES.  
To his Letter I returned this Answer.  
Son Freeman,  
I Have received your Letter, and like well of the words and desires you use therein, and wish with all my soul you were as that speaks you; That you were heartily sorry for that most high and crying sin committed against your heavenly and earthly Father, in so foully murdering your most innocent brother. Upon these hopes, (though never greater injury was done to man) I do really and fully forgive you. And do, and have, and shall, as long as you have being here, most heartily and earnestly, every moment of time, beg of God, that he would give you a true sight of this and of all other your sins, and receive you to his mercy and forgiveness. But let me tell you, that will never be, but upon a true repentance of all your sins, and an acknowledgement of them, and that, (let me be plain with you) I yet see not in you. For this most detestable fact, you confess indeed you did it, but as much as in you lies lay the provocation of it upon your Father, by charging him with most false and devilish untruths, as I find in your examination. As first, upon the falling out between you and your Brother about wearing one another's Doublets (wherein you had and would have your will:) you tax your Father, that he said he would ruin you; whereas your uncle Nicholas and the Servants who were then by, know, that I only said, These stubborn and wilful courses of yours, if you continued in them, would ruin you. And so I fear they have, for to the last you continued in them. And in the least trivial things, of riding abroad to my Park and Town (things you liked in themselves) yet because I desired it of you, you refused it, and said, If your Father had not asked you to go, you should have done it. And this you did the Thursday and Saturday before this foul fact. I mind you only of this, being so lately done; hundreds more you know there are; as your perpetual running to Lingsted against my mind, and staying out until ten, and twelve at night. And this you would do three or four times every week, and make me wait those late hours for you both for supper and bed. And when I told you the danger of riding those late hours, the amends that followed upon it was, the next day to do the same again or worse, and never could I prevail with you to stay any one time from going thither, though you knew it was extremely against my mind, you receiving no good from thence: but you continued it the rather, and that to the last.  
Next, you tax me that I would make you Servant to your Brother. Never such word fell from me, it is most false, as all then by cantestifie, and I protest to God, it was never in my thoughts, nor did my actions ever tend the least that way, which all the world saw. For, you were ever habited and clothed alike; and I never made difference between you in any thing, but have been taxed for showing you more kindness, and bearing more with you than with your Brother. But possibly I might say, you need not carry yourself so doggedly toward him, for you must be beholden to your Brother; and so you must have been, had he lived.  
Next, you tax me, that whereas some friends had told you, that you had a thousand pounds a year given you, that I could not keep from you: I said, you had not a thousand groats, and that I would make you as poor as your uncle Nicholas.  
It is true, I did tell you, you had not a thousand pounds a year, neither do I know that you have one foot of land, or one great of money given you by any friend in the world. But I did not say, that I would make you as poor as your uncle Nicholas. But, I might, and I think did say, That let not your flatterer's sooth you up, and maintain you in these stubbornesses and disobediences to your Father, for you must be beholden to him for what you have, and he could make it more or less, according as you behaved yourself, and that it was in his power to make you as poor, and give you as little as your uncle Nicholas. But both you and all the world know, my care was to make you a good fortune, and that for that end only, I have been as good an husband as I could, and have near these twenty years kept myself a single man, and barred myself the comfort of a Wife, only because I would not burden myself with more Children that you might have the more, for your Brother had his fortune ascertained before. And thus you have requited me, to make me childless, and to ruin my Family, (and that in an instant) which I all my life have been labouring to support.  
Next you complain, that for these last four years, you have had none, or very little money from me, not forty or twenty pounds. I suppose this is from the time you came from Cambridge, for than I am sure I allowed you a certainty of forty pounds a year, besides clothes and extraordinaries, and that was not small, for at one time, I paid a Bill of forty pounds for you, when you had the small pox. And I am confident, and you know it, you have spent me in clothes and otherwise, above an hundred pounds a year, beside your diet, ever since you came from thence. You had of all things that you would, and as costly as you pleased, and as often, & all paid by me without the least check: though sometimes your vanity carried you to lay out threescore pounds or more upon one suit. I am sure no man's younger Son in Eng: went better, nor had more care taken for his Education than you had. The best Masters in London for the mathematics, and divers exercises came to you, to my great expense. And often have I been earnest with you, to go to the Inns of Court, or undertake some other employment, and offered to allow you for your expenses what you could desire, but you would not. For money to spend, you had still equal with your Elder Brother, and as much as I thought you could any ways need, being always with me, or any ways seem to desire. You never asked any sum that ever was denied you, you knew where my spending money was, and you did go to it, and take what you pleased, I never checked you for it. Ten pounds at a time I have offered you, & that lately, & you would have none of it, you needed it not, you had money enough, you said, and so indeed I think you had, to your great hurt. For that made you play at such great games, and bet so high at Cocking, as none higher, and to lose, and that at my lodging, near an hundred pounds at a time. To play with your Father you scorned, though he often desired it, he played at too small a game for you. These are no signs that you wanted money, or that your Father carried a strait hand toward you.  
Oh Freeman! thou knowest thy Father loved thee but too well, and that he could deny thee nothing. From thy Cradle to this day, I know not that I ever struck thee, saving that once, when through thy unsufferable sauciness, in the Parlour, I pulled off thy Hat, and gave thee a little pat on the head. And much good came thereby: for you presently took it up, and put it on again, cocking of it, and in scorn sat in your chair by me, in a discontented posture, and so continued for four or five hours, not speaking one word. Nor do I remember that ever I did chide thee in anger, though thy dogged humour of hiding thyself for a long time, and running to London without my knowledge, and the jangling with thy Brother upon the least trivial occasions, would have provoked any Father living. But say I did it at any time, thou knowest it was as soon over as spoken, and therefore you need not suggest my displeasure continued against you. To that very night you did this bloody fact, how have I courted thee as my Mistress, not my Son? Ever since I came from upnor, how have I every day sought new ways and journeys to have thy company? Surely these are no arguments of a father's displeasure.  
But say I was displeased. Why then didst thou not kill me, and spare that innocent lamb? O Youth! I believe thou mightest be offended at me, but certainly the main thing that provoked thee, was thy envy at thy brother's virtues, and growing goodness, and that he was the Elder, and that I and the world began to look on him, and love him. Oh hellish wickedness! Heaven give thee grace to repent thee heartily of it, and God be merciful to thy most foul soul, and wash it clean in the blood of his dear Son Christ Jesus; that when thou comest to die, it may be a guest fitting to be received into his pure mansions; And that it may there ever live with him, in eternal bliss, is the constant prayer of  
Thy most sad and disconsolate Father, 
 GEORGE SONDES.  
After this, my son sent me another Letter, which was as followeth:  
Dear and ever honoured Father,  
IN the midst of all the distresses of my sad soul, the sweetness of your love and fatherly indulgence brings with it much comfort to my disconsolate spirit, which is a little revived by your loving Letter to the High sheriff, whereby I have this liberty to present the most dutiful affection of a penitent son. Good Father, let me upon my humble request obtain your gracious pardon and forgiveness of all my former disobedient actings, and admit me, I beseech you, into your prayers, that I may be thankful to my heavenly Father for this respite of life, and employ the short remainder of my days in Repentance, Prayer, and other holy duties; That so thereby I may win comfort to my poor soul here, and through the mercies of Christ my Saviour, enjoy everlasting bliss hereafter. Which God of his infinite mercy vouchsafe unto You, dear Father, and to me  
Your most affectionate and obedient son, 
 FREEMAN SONDES.  
After this I sent him this following Letter.  
Son Freeman,  
THe time of your leaving this world (for aught I know) draws near, and I hope, as you have had sufficient time, so you have made good use of it, and are prepared to go to your God. If you have (as you tell me) a true sight and hearty sorrow for your foul sin, than I doubt not but when you are dissolved, you shall be with Christ. And if I could be once thoroughly assured of that, I confess (as you say) I should have comfort in your death, although I have had but little in your life. But let me beg of thee my Son, do not deceive thy own soul; God is not mocked, he sees not as man seeth, there is no dissembling with him. Now is the time of thy making or undoing forever. As the tree falls here, so it lies. If thou goest out a true penitent here, thou shalt undoubtedly be a glorious Saint in heaven hereafter.  
But know, it is not all the prayers, and tears, and cries of all the godly Ministers about you, who I hear (and heartily thank them for it) have plentifully afforded you their assistance, nor the earnest beggings of your Father, or of the Churches, can do that work. It must come from thy own self, thy own heart must beg it, or all will be in vain. The hottest Sun cannot make a dead tree live, nor the strongest blowings kindle fire in a dead coal. If there be no sap in the root, the Sun doth but dry and not enliven the tree. If no spark of fire lie hidden under the ashes, all the blowings will never make it to burn. I hope thou hast some sparks of grace in thee, though deeply buried under a world of rubbish, and I hope all those godly bellows that are used will blow that away, and make thy fire of true repentance and godly sorrow burn clear, and make thee able truly to say with the prodigal, Father, I have sinned against heaven and against thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son: and then thou mayst be assured of the like reception from him. He will embrace thee in the arms of his mercy, he will feast thee in his heavenly mansions. For thou wert lost, but now thou art found; thou wast dead to sin, but now thou art alive in Christ, and shalt for ever live in him. Oh happy sadness, if it produce this joy! Oh happy death, if it produce thee that blessed life! happy change, to leave a world of misery, to go to an heaven of bliss. Oh Freeman! rouse up thyself like a man, mind the work you are about, stir up the graces which I hope are in thee. Certainly thou canst not be so barren of knowledge and goodness as I hear you make yourself to be. Thou hast been instructed in the ways of godliness from a child. Thou hadst Masters and tutors to keep thee in them when thou wast abroad, and at home thou hadst thy father's counsel and example. He never failed to cause you and your Brother to read the Scriptures, and constantly himself prayed with you, and called on you to betake yourselves to your private devotions, and still had you to Church to hear the best men, and the most godly Sermons, and discoursed to you of what was preached. Is all this lost? hath this foul sin so deadened thy soul, that no spark of true grace can appear? Take this comfort, man's sin cannot be so great, but God's mercy is greater. Hell is only full of impenitent souls. If thou canst but truly repent, God will forgive. Say but with David heartily, I have sinned, and God will say to thy soul as Nathan to him, The Lord hath forgiven thy sin. The Thief on the cross no sooner said, Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom; but Christ said, This day shalt thou be with me in paradise. And do you but deal plainly and clearly with heaven, I doubt not but you will find the same answer to your own soul. do not palliate, or shift off thy sin: I tell thee, neither thy Father, or thy Brother I am sure, ever gave thee the least occasion which might provoke thee to commit this foul fact. Too much softness and gentleness, old Ely's fault, was his more than any other. I could but reprove thee with this, do so no more my Son. I have often checked myself for it, I know I ought to have gone higher, but thy dogged and stubborn nature was such, that I feared to do it, and I could not see any reproofs did work good upon thee. No, I tell you, you have none to accuse in this but your own wicked and envious disposition, and the Devil who had got so much power over thee as to make thee to do his will. And thanks be to heaven that restrained both his and your power from acting further mischief on me. Will and opportunity was not wanting, only heaven forbade it, and preserved me: That, I only thank, and beg of the Father of heaven to be merciful to thy soul, and rest  
Your sad and ruined Father, 
 GEORGE SONDES.  
There is much discourse abroad about a Doublet, and a falling out between my Sons in that business. I will set down the true and plain story of it.   

The story about the Doublet.  
My Son George coming to me to London in Candlemas. term last, out of Sussex, he sent his grey cloth Doublet that he rid up in, to Banks his tailor to face the sleeves. Banks seeing it, told his Man, that he was sure that was not his Masters, for I (said he) never made it. Possibly, said my son's Servant, the Doublets being both alike, it might be mistaken; but this is it, my Master rid his journey in, therefore pray mend it, and so he did, and it was brought home, and his man told George what the tailor said: I thought so, said he, for it is too little for me, yet wore it a day or two in London. But coming down into the country, one night he spoke to his Brother to let him have his own Doublet. Freeman said, he would keep the Doublet he had. Then I being in the next Chamber, and hearing them loud and wrangling came out to them, and asked what was the matter? Freeman said, his Brother would have his Doublet. Then I said to George, why do you go about to get his Doublet from him? let him alone with it. No Father, said George, it is my own Doublet I would have, only it was mistaken when I went into Sussex, and they gave me his instead of mine, and now I would have my own again, his being too little for me: but Freeman said, he should not have it. Come, said I, what ado is here about a foolish doublet? get you to bed. I know not what to do with it, says George, I cannot wear it, and so flinging it on the bed, bid his uncle Nicholas (who was then by) take it. Do so, said I, and then we shall have no more janglings about it, and so went to my Chamber and Bed.  
The next Morning, fearing there might be more wranglings about it, to prevent it, I went as soon as I was up to Freeman's bedside, and used all the fair words I could to persuade him to let his Brother have his doublet, and earnestly desired him to do it, but could not prevail with him. Now, says he, my Brother hath worn the Doublet in Sussex, he would have me have it again, I will never take it. Do you hear, said I to George, what your Brother says? Why, says he, if I have worn his he hath likewise worn mine, and the Doublet is as fresh and as good as mine every jot; 'tis not for that I would have my own again, but because it fits me better. Upon this I went into George his Chamber, and said to him, You see the wilfulness of your Brother, make shift to wear that Doublet for a while, you will not wear it much longer. Father, says he, I desire to wear it but two or three days, till I get to London, and I have tried this, it is so little I cannot wear it.  
By this time Freeman had put on his clothes and was come into his brother's Chamber, when I said to him, fetch the Doublet, and let thy Brother wear it. No says he, he shall have none of my Doublet, let him wear that he hath had all this while. It is said I, too little for him.  
Father, said George, if he will but let me have it to London, (which will not be above three or four days) that I may spare my other suits, when I come thither, he shall have Doublet and Breeches too: I am sure the lace will be worth four or five pounds, but I regard it not, only for my present use I would have it. Nay then, said I, Freeman, you cannot deny this offer. I care not, says he, I will keep my own.  
Then I said to him, nay, now I see it is nothing but wilfulness, only to cross your Brother, and said to George, let him alone, it shall do him no good; and to Freeman I said, these cross and dogged humours of yours, if you continue in them will ruin you. You need not be so dogged to your Brother, for I tell you, if I die, you must be beholding to him; and what ever your flatterers tell you of an Estate of a thousand pounds a year, or more, that you have, which your Father cannot keep from you; I, who know better than they, tell you, that you have not a groat, but what you must be beholding to your Father for, and that it is in his power to leave you as little as your uncle Nicholas hath left him. And therefore you need not carry yourself so stubbornly and doggedly towards him, as if all were your own already. I tell you, if you mend not your manners, it will be the worse for you. This was all the reproof I gave him, and to my best remembrance the very words. And I think to such a wilfulness, there being no reason for it, but only his own humour, I think a Father could not say less. Well, his will he had, and would have, & still kept his brother's Doublet: and I desired George to let him alone, and give the other Doublet to his uncle Nicholas, that there might be no more words about it; which he did: for his uncle Nicholas was by, when all these words were spoken, and remembers them well.  
This was in April last, now near four months' since. And that this wicked wretch should make these words the occasion that provoked him to murder his Brother, is a most desperate wickedness, and I believe; a most devilish untruth. God forgive him.  
Mr. Boreman, a reverend Divine, who took much pains with my son before his suffering, hath since in print related many passages of that business. I was then, and still am, a mere stranger to him, having yet never seen him. In that regard, it was hard for him so fully to clear many things, I am aspersed with. This consideration, together with the persuasion of others, hath occasioned my silly pen thus rudely to speak to the captious world, and even enforced me to say something more.  
In the first part of his book, he brings in these words with a Parenthesis, He being in love with a fair Gentlewoman, intimating that to be one of those things, might provoke my son. Truly this is more than ever he would confess to me, or any friend or Servant about me that I know of. And when he hath been asked about it, he would deny it with much slighting, and profess the contrary: and this he did not above two or three days before the fact.  
Indeed I think they loved one another's company very well, meeting often, and gaming together. If they did intend Marriage, it never received hindrance or dislike from me. I always liked very well of it; & when such a thing was spoken of upon the buy, I so much encouraged it, that I presently said thus, They tell me that she hath three or four hundred pounds a year: what ever it be, I will give my son as much in present, beside his future expectancies, and they are not small. Thus much I proffered of myself. I know not then, why anything concerning that Gentlewoman should trouble him.  
Next I find in that Relation, that I am taxed for neglect of Family duties, and for not reproving my son, as I ought to have done, in those Letters I did write to him.  
To the first of these you may see an answer in my Charges before: and the second the letters themselves will confute, and evidence the contrary.  
I sent an able Divine to be continually with him, and instruct him, and this was as much as the exigence of the time would suffer me to do.  
To that of my son's advice to the world, of reading the Scriptures frequently, and praying to God daily, and of Parents not to suffer their Children to live in idleness, but employ them in some Calling, I think it concerns me to say something, though in my Charges, I have sufficiently spoke to these things.  
I am sure no man ever endeavoured or laboured more to persuade a son to take to something, than I did him.  
Very lately I was earnest with him to Study the Law, or be a Merchant, or any thing, so he would be something: but he was so averse, that neither my own, or the persuasion of his most intimate friends, could prevail with him. No longer since than Easter term last, this was laboured by us, but to no purpose.  
To the advice of Prayer, and reading the Scriptures, I can say it truly, that he was sufficiently admonished by me to do it. He knew that I never failed daily to do it myself. And I shall not only advise the world to read the Scriptures, but also to endeavour the true knowledge of them: and the way to do that, is not only to exercise ourselves in praying and reading, but to make use of the most godly, able, Orthodox Divines, such as are skilful in the Original Tongues, and can rightly interpret, and give the true sense. If this were done, we should not have so many strange Religions, and so many odd conceits and opinions broached every day. The Sadducees read the Scriptures, and were as ready and well versed in them as any, yet Christ tells them, They err, not knowing the Scriptures.  
If I could have prevented it, nothing at all should have been printed concerning these sad passages; but since I could not hinder others, I have suffered myself to be persuaded that I was necessitated to publish something in my own vindication, and to undeceive the world.  
I like not pharisaical boasting: but when so many calumnies and false aspersions are laid upon me, I have S. Paul's rule and practice, to right myself in publishing the plain truth.  
'Tis believed by many that I am very covetous: I am sure, if I had been a lover of money, I might have had many thousands in my purse more than I have. I do not know but that in building and other ways I have expended as much as I had come in. If at any time I had any money by me (which was never much) I put it not to use, but pleasured friends with it. I have paid many a thousand pound for the use of money, but never in all my life received one hundred for all the moneys I ever lent.  
'Tis said I have much improved my estate: I thank heaven I have not wasted it, but indifferently freed it of encumbrances, and charges that lay upon it: yet I have added but little to it by my purchases.  
Had I but the lands that my Father and Grandfather have sold from it, it would be double what it is. I repine not, but am well content, and thank God for what I now have.  
Perhaps I may be censured for some things here, as not fit to be published to the critical world: but this I can say; Though it be plain, yet it is true and honest, and for my part, as long as I live, I will endeavour honesty not only in my words, but in all my actions, and as much as in me lies, labour to have peace with all men. If I cannot obtain it, it shall not trouble me, so long as I have peace of conscience, and peace with my God.    
FINIS.   

THE PARALLEL.  
NO man's Sorrow like to my sorrow! No affliction to be compared to mine in all the Div ne Writ! Nor any wickedness like unto that of my son.  
Adam could not but be much grieved, when Cain slew his Brother Abel, but they did not both then die. God the Judge did not at that time execute Cain for it, but only banished him from his presence, and suffered him afrerward to grow numerous, and to build Cities. Mine are both dead and no remembrance left of them.  
Abraham surely was much perplexed, when God commanded him to sacrifice his son Isaac; but it was not done, an angel from Heaven stayed his hand in the very act. It was only for trial, and required by him, to whom the firstborn was due, and if it had been done, yet Ishmael whom he loved, had still been left to him. Oh that Ishmael might live in thy sight!  
I have lost both my Isaac and my Ishmael, both really slain, and that by no express command from Heaven, to afford me the least comfort.  
Isaac certainly was much troubled, that Esau hated Jacob, and threatened his death, yet his resolution was, not to kill him till his Father were dead. The days of mourning for my Father are at hand, say; he, then will I slay my Brother.  
But when he met his Brother with armed Troops, his heart relented and he did it not. My son acted what he intended, and that most foully. He stayed not till his father's death, but as soon as he had done it, came presently to his Father, and acquainted him with it, and brought him to the bedside, to see his Brother lie weltering in his blood, not then quite dead. Oh unparalleled villainy! Oh most sad spectacle!  
Job ('tis true) lost seven sons, and three Daughters, all at one time: God's hand was so heavy on him, that he became a map of misery. He lost but all the Children he had, and so did I. His Children were killed by the fall of an House, which the wind blew down, it might seem a casualty: But mine, one murdered in his bed by his Brother, and the other deservedly hanged for it. A sadder end!  
But Job lost beside a number of Oxen, Sheep, camels and Asses, for he was the richest man in all the East.  
I confess I cannot say during my troubles, I have lost so great a stock of Cattle, but I can say it confidently, that the Goods and Revenue that I have been deprived of, were worth near forty thousand pounds, which would have purchased a great stock, in Job's time and country.  
I had three fair Houses then, in my own hands, all well furnished, and at least two thounsand pounds a year about them. My Lands were all well stocked; I had at least one hundred head of great cattle. Half an hundred Horses, and those none of the worst, some of them worth forty or fifty pounds a piece. I had five hundred Sheep beside other stock. About a thousand Quarters of Wheat and Malt in Garners, and ten barns (none of the least) all full of good Corn, and great quantities of flax and Hops.  
All this was seized and taken away at one time, with Plate and jewels, for I removed nothing, concluding my self and Estate secure enough so long as I acted for them.  
Beside all this, they had the Rents and Profits of my Estate, for seven years together, and the two first years allowed neither me, nor my Children any thing out of it.  
They had not only the Profits of my own Estate, but what they could get of Alderman freeman's, to whom I was Administrator, and of my Mother-in-Law, to whom (she being a lunatic) I was Guardian. By that means she and her Children were damnified at least a thousand pounds. And no return would be made of it, though they knew it to be so.  
At last I was forced to pay three thousand five hundred pounds for Composition; or else (for aught I know) they would have kept my Estate till this time, or sold it.  
But perhaps it may be said to me: Job was a righteous Man, but these punishments were inflicted upon you for your Delinquency, for being in arms, and siding against the Parliament.  
To that I boldly say, I never was in arms against the PARLIAMENT, or ever sided or assisted any against them, or ever had any charge of Delinquency laid against me, or ever was called before the Parliament or any Committee (though I always sought it, and laboured it) for any offence. Neither could I ever learn to this day, why I was sequestered or Imprisoned. Indeed some Kentish men have told me, I was put down to set up others; and set up they were, but did not long continue.  
When I was to compound for my Estate, neither the Committee before whom I appeared, or myself could find out, how I might be made a Delinquent, that so I might be capable to compound. There was a tax for my park then unpaid, because it was overrated, and it was agreed (I being willing to enjoy my Estate, and be at liberty) that I should be entered (and so it stands in their books) a Delinquent, for not paying of Taxes.  
This was all my Delinquency, and that hath long since been satisfied, so that now I am no Delinquent, nor indeed even was, and therefore I hope for that matter, I may stand clear with Iob. But in this I am sure I go beyond him, his afflictions were but for a short time, about a year at most, and then he was at quiet. Mine have been for these twelve years, ever since forty three, and still continue, I am now a Prisoner. And the last year, upon a suit of the trusties in the Exchequer for arrears of Rent due to the Church, I was there denied the benefit of the general Pardon, which, as I conceived, took off those arrears.  
And it was likewise decreed, that I should pay to them one hundred and five pounds, as Rent for the Parsonage of Eastry: for that year 1643. when the Parliament farmed it out, for four hundred and ten pounds, and received all the money for it, I had not one penny benefit by it, they had it all, and yet I must pay that Rent.  
It was decreed also that I should pay to them, forty nine pounds and ten shillings, and seventy two pounds, which I proved I had paid to Mr. Brett, and Mr. float, by order from the Committee of Plundered Ministers, by way of Augmentation. I produced their Acquittances for it, and Mr. Sherman the Receiver, knew and allowed of Mr. Bretts payment, and yet it was decreed, that I should repay those sums to them again, which I conceived to be very hard measure, and strange justice, that all this should befall me, only for that mark of Delinquency.  
This caused me to Petition the Lord Protector for relief, and if he be not pleased to relieve me, or recommend me back to the Court, where possibly I may now find more equal justice, the two Barons whom then sat being removed▪ I must pay those sums, and I stand now in Contempt of that Court for not doing it.  
So than my miseries are not yet ended; and were the same power that then ruled, to continue still, I should never hope to end them but with my life. But I hope more righteous things, from the present Protector.  
But Job had a Wife, and kindred that vexed him. She gave him counsel to curse God and die.  
Indeed in all the time of my troubles, I have not had a Wife, either to comfort or vex me, nor did I desire one. Now I do, and shall endeavour it, God send me a good and fruitful one, who may help to sweerens all my miseries. Kindred I had, but they come not now at me, they know they were too much concerned. But at a distance, they drank wine in Bowls, and ranted high, saying, The heirs are now killed, the Inheritame shall be ours. But perhaps they may be deceived.  
And for my Neighbours, see how some of them have all along reproached me. Job had not greater, nor more false things charged against him than I have had.  
For my son's wickedness I must needs say, Cains was not greater, for he did it in the field, and first talked with his Brother, and possibly did it with a Sword, and had some pretence of reason for it, because Abel and his offering was more respected; But thou didst murder thy Brother basely and inhumanly, not in the Field, but in his Bed. Thou didst not talk or dispute it with him, but didst kill him sleeping, and couldst hear nothing but sad groans from him. Nor didst thou do it with a Sword or manly weapon, but with a butcherly Cleaver beat out his brains. And as if that had been too little, with a most cowardly stiletto didst stab him seven or eight times in and about the heart: nor for this thy so doing couldst thou have any such pretence as Cain had, for thou wert ever equally respected with thy Brother.  
Even profane Esau came far short of thee: He did but resolve to kill his Brother, and when he came to him, he repented of his purpose, and embraced him: But thou didst go through with thy work, in the height of malice. And when thou hadst brought me to him, after thou hadst slain him, I saw not any relenting in thee, or one tear drop from thine eyes for that foul fact.  
But certainly Judas went beyond thee, none so wicked as he.  
Yet perhaps it may be said, that he did not know Christ to be the Lord of Life, and then he did but betray his innocent Master: Thou didst more, for thou didst kill thy innocent brother. Judas did but deliver his Master up to the Judge for his trial, thou wert Judge and Executioner thyself. He might plead, that after he took the sop, the devil entered into him, and that his Master bade him, What thou dost, do quickly, and that he was hired for thirty pieces of silver; Thou hadst no devil enter into thee, nor any command or hire, but thy own malicious nature. He did it in the dark of the night, ashamed that the light should behold so foul a fact; Thou in the fair morning, when the sun arose, and shined clear. He gave his Master time to pray before he took him; Thou didst kill thy Brother fleeping, not suffering him to wake or speak, only to sigh, and groan, and that most sadly, but all moved not thee.  
Oh Heaven! Whither doth the remembrance of thy wickedness transport me? Can Judas his sin find any to contest with it? thine comes too near it. Yet in this thou hast much the better of him: He when he considered what he had done, despairing, hanged himself, and so went to hell, that place of torment, prepared for the son of perdition; Thou hadst many days after thy foul fact to consider what thou hadst done. And I thank Heaven thou didst heartily and sincerely repent thee of thy sins, (as I am well assured by those godly Ministers who were with thee to the last) and so art gone to Heaven, the place of thy bliss, prepared for all truly penitent souls.  
FINIS.   

Pag. 14. lin. 26. for public read Private.