A LETTER From an Officer of the ARMY in IRELAND to a Kinsman of his in the ENGLISH ARMY.  
Good x,  
THe enclosed is both a Duty, and a Legacy: if you Love your Self, Peruse it; if you Love Me, Publish it, for it is intended to my Friends, and to my Country. It is the Last, and it is the Greatest Good I can do you, and it is as well the Last, and the Greatest Right I am capable of receiving from you.  
Farewell.   

Fellow soldiers,  
I Am not in condition for many words, and I hope these few will be profitable to You, although the Fruits of a repentance, very Late, as to my self. The Damned only can express what at this present I Feel, betwixt the horrors of pain, and Conscience; and this wretched extremity affords me no other prospect (without a Miracle) than Death, and Damnation. I wish that the Agonies I endure, may prevent the greater Sufferings of my Fellow-transgressours; and that you come not as well to partake in My Torments, as I have done in your Offences. Which that you may not do, reflect seasonably, and seriously, with me, upon the Rapine, sacrilege, Perjuries, and murders, we have committed together; and let This moment be That of your return to your Duty, and Reason. Do not trifle with Eternity: it depends upon this Instant, and there's no redemption from the pit. Heaven and Earth are your declared Enemies, and your courses are not less Ridiculous, then Impious. Your portion even in This world, is contempt, and beggary, and that of the Devils, is to be your Inheritance in the Next. You are cozened of the very Bread you Fight for, and you dig, like the Indians, Naked, to furnish your unthankful Masters with Treasure. Your Liberties, fortunes, Reputations, Lives, and souls, are but a Sacrifice to a pack of cheats, Cowards, and Atheists: and there is not a Sword advanced against you, which carries not Infamy, Death, and Hell, upon the point of it. All Hands, and all Interests are engaged to your Destruction. The whole Nation looks upon you but as so many Wolves, and the very Sheep you have flayed to cover your sneaking villainies, will have their skins again. But this is nothing, compared with the Impressions of Divine Vengeance upon your wounded Souls. God will not be deluded; he knows, that you understand the Crimes you act; and the Conscience of your Sin, shall be the Sting of your Punishment.  
Oh gentlemen! I speak to such as have not cast off human Nature, with Christian Religion: to such, as have not Sinned unto Death: to such, as wear not the seal of Reprobation upon their foreheads: by all the tenderness you owe to piety, and Nature; as ever you expect Mercy from Heaven, or Peace upon Earth; I Beg of you; nay I charge you; spill no more Innocent blood: Take this counsel; as you expect an Interest, in That, which was shed for the world. Betake yourselves to tears, and penitence for what is past. Reserve yourselves for more Honourable, and needful Occasions to employ your Courage, hereafter. That which possesses you at present, is the Spirit of Mutiny, and Sedition, not that of Valour. The time is at hand, which will both glorify your service, and Reward them. Draw your Swords Then, and you will find the difference betwixt committing a murder, and Offering a Sacrifice.  
God give you his Grace, and so I bid you farewell for ever, Dublin, August 14. 1658.