A True ACCOUNT of the Taking of Mr. CASTEERS, at TENDERTON in KENT, And Mr. LOB, in ESSEX.  
Two Non-Conformist-Ministers Mentioned in His Majesty's Declaration, etc. For Conspiring the Death of the King, etc.  
THE Saints have been a long time looking for a Change, they have been Preaching Woe and Judgements to the People, and now it is come with a Witness. Beware of Popery, says Lob; the Phylistins are upon us, says Ferguson, and the Day of Judgement is at hand▪ and sure it must be a Terrible Day for the Saints, when they call for the Mountains and the Hills to cover them, and for all their Innocence and Sanctification, none dare stand the Test of, Come ye Blessed.  
Sure these Sanctified Pretenders, for all their Assurance of Election, are but mere Saducees, and can believe no Resurrection in the next World, that are so forward for an Insurrection in this.  
But what is meant in the Style of the Covenant, by Insurrection, this is but a Scandalous Epithet of the Abusive Torys▪ to put the worst of Names upon the best Designs. In the Language of the Saints, this is called no more than a Reformation. And Raising of Arms, no more, then putting on the Helmet of Righteousness for the Holy-Cause. In which Sense, the highest of Treasons is but Misprision at best.  
Now if this Fallacy would pass upon Jack Catch, as easily as it does upon the Brethren, they would swallow Halters, as fast as they do Caudles, after a Treason-Lecture, and would run the hazard of the last Judgement, so they could pass the Sentence of the Lord Chief Justice.  
They fly from this, vainly hoping to escape the other, but Fears, Doubts and Jealousies, their old Friends, pursue them, and Gild, more terrible than Death itself, follows the Bloody Regicide where ere he goes, and for all their private Lurk in secret Corners, Justice at last finds them out, and brings the Traitor to his Just Reward.  
Thus that Arch Traitor, and Incendiary Casteers, took his Refuge at Tenderton, in the wild's of Kent. Indeed his Brutal Designs, and Bloodly Practices, Rendered him rather a Companion for Savage Beasts, than Men, and the Deserts fitter for him, than Holy-ground to Tread on, and Paddinton fitter than either.  
Having here found out a Place fit for his Reception at one Curtis his House, (one that valued the Life of a Brother, above the Safety of his King, and had rather Conceal a Traitor, then Discover the Treason,) he took up Sanctuary here, where the Mayor of Tenderton, and Coll. Austin, coming to search for Arms in his House, as a Man Dissaffected to the Government, they found the said Casteers in Bed, where he lay in a very Violent Sweat, without the help of a Bagnion▪ or Methredate, finding him a Stranger, and in this Pickle of his own sauce, they asked him from whence he came, he answered faintly (by Reason of his Sweat) from Tunbridge, and that Drinking the Waters there for a Time, had thrown him into that Violent Fit. Then they Demanded his Name, He told them, with some Hisitation, his Name was William Swan. The Reason that this Name came into his Mind, sooner than any other, was, that a little before he had been singing a Psalm of thanksgiving to his Landlord, for his Deliverance, which (upon this Surprise, might be the last before his Death) put him in Mind of the Swan. But his Tongue Betraying him, and they finding by his Dialect, that he was a Scotchman, they asked him, if he knew Mr. Ferguson, who answered, he did very well, and that he was related to his Wife, but said, he had not seen him lately, he said the same of Mr. Lob▪ and being asked of the Assassinating of the Archbishop of St. Andrews. He seemed to Justify it as a Lawful Act. Then they asked him, what Countryman he was, he denied he was a Scotchman, and said, he was Born in Cumberland. They then asked him, whither he had been of any University, and of what Foundation; he said, he was of Cambridge, but could give no farther account of it.  
Finding him to waver in his Answers, and a Cargalike in his Principles, he was secured and carried to Tenderton that Night. Next day being Examined upon the same particulars, he was so different from what he had said the Night before, that he had forgot his very Name, calling himself now by the Name of William Moor, for to this black Devil, his white Swan was Metamorphosed in a Nights Time. At last applying himself to Coll. Austin, to speak in his Behalf, he confessed himself to be Casteers upon which the Mayor and Officers set a strong Guard on him, and sent him to White-Hall, where being Examined before the Secretary, he is Committed to the Custody of the Messengers. We are since assured that Mr. Lob, another Non-Con-Blunderbus, is taken, by a Worthy and Loyal, Gentleman, Captain Henry Goreing, in Essex; and that the Lord Grey is Secured at Rotterdam.   

LONDON, Printed for J. Ashburne, 1683.