The Matchless Murder.  
Giving an Account of the most horrible and bloody murdering of the most worthy Gentleman Th●mas Thin Esq who was on Sunday February the twel●●● 1632 ●●●●●rously killed in his own Coach by some bloodthirsty outlandish Vil 〈…〉 shot five or six Bullets into his Belly, whereof he quickly died, and the 〈◊〉 of the murderers now lying in Newgate, who have confessed the same, 〈…〉: Capt. Christopher Fur●tz a German, George B●●k●e a Polander, Joh 〈…〉 a Germane Frederick Harder, and Amien Berg, accessaries.  
To the Tune of Troy Town.  
 

COme and assist my trembling Den,  
while I endeavour to explain  
The bloody minds of cruel men,  
That will no wickedness refrain,  
But bloody Humours to fulfil.  
Innocent blood they daily spill.   

Now my sad story I'll begin,  
The like I think you ne'er did hear,  
How that Renowned Squire Thin  
Was murdered it doth plain appear;  
Their bloody minds for to fulfil,  
This squire most horridly they kill.   

On Sunday last this Gentleman  
Clear of all Scandals o● Reproach,  
At several places he had been  
With Noble Monmouth in his Coach,  
This worthy person thought no ill,  
Whilst villains sought his blood to spill   

And thus they passed the Streets along  
Till seven or eight a Clock at night,  
& then great Monmouth would be gone  
In whom so much he did delight,  
Poor soul he little thought of ill,  
while villains sought his blood to spi●●   
 

His Grace he was no sooner gone,  
But this sad accident befell,  
By Villain 〈…〉 e was set upon  
Near to a place that's call d Pell-mell,  
Their swellish minds they did fulfil  
and there his precious blood did spill.   

Up to his Coach these Villaies ride,  
As by his ●ervants it is said,  
Wit● Weapons which the● did provide  
Whilst ●e poor soul was not afraid,  
For harmless souls ne'er fear no ill.  
while villains seek their blood to spill   

Meeting with him as they desired,  
Their Hellish courage than grew hot,  
Into his Coach at him they fired,  
And into his belly him they shot,  
And so like Villains him they killed,  
& his most precious blood they spilled.   

Away like Villains than they fled,  
With horror doubtless in their mind,  
This worthy soul three quarters dead,  
Bleeding i'th' Coach they left behind:  
Now had the Villains got their will  
That sought his precious blood to spill   

When these unwelcome tidings came  
To Noble Monmouths wondering ear,  
His courage which none e'er could tame  
Did on a sudden plain appear,  
He straight pursued those that did spill  
His precious blood that thought no ill   

This Noble Hero did all night  
Pursue these murtherers all in vain,  
Till ●ol with his resplendent light  
Did to our sight return again,  
But could not find those that did kill  
That harmless soul as thought no ill   

But Heaven did presently find out  
What lovely Monmouth could not do,  
I was well he was the Coach gone out,  
Or he might have been murdered too.  
I fear that they who this squire killed  
Poor Jameys' blood would seign ●●a●e spilled   

These Villains they were seized at last,  
And brought before his Majesty,  
This horrid thing they then confessed  
Now Prisoners they in Newgate ●●e,  
And be condemned no doubt they will,  
that squire Thin's sweet blood and spill    

Printed for I Conyers at the black Ravenin Duck lane