The Last SPEECH OF M. Peter Vowel, Which he intended to have delivered (had he been permitted) upon the tenth of July, 1654. Being the day of his suffering death, in the place where Charing Cross once stood. Written by himself a little before his Suffering.  
Published for general satisfaction.  
Printed in the Year MDCLIV.   

A True Copy of what was spoken, and intended to have been spoken (had he not been forbidden) by M. Peter Vowel, upon Monday the tenth of July, 1654. (on which day he suffered death in the place where Charing-Cross stood) as from the Original paper written with his own hand appeareth.  
Gentlemen,  
AT this earthly Bar from them that pretend to have a great measure of sanctity, I had hard measure; but to that Bar I am now going, the Bar of heaven, I shall have justice, yea one day Justice against them, except they water their beds and couches with tears of Repentance.  
The Court gave severe and rash Judgement on my body, and sent a pitiful fellow- (but a pitiless fellow) that gave as rash a Judgement of my soul; but that precious Jewel none of them could rouch to hurt.  
The Souls under the Altar cry loud for vengeance long ago; how many more of late years have been added to them to help the cry; the cry is loud of those lately whose blood hath been unlawfully spilt; but vengeacne is Gods, and I will leave it to him.  
The Court of my Trial said I was confident, and held it as a fault; He also whom they sent to the Tower (I know not if to entrap me) under pretence to comfort my soul, told me also, I was confident; I say the same: and the same confidence I bring with me now, and by God's assistance, I hope I shall carry it out of this world with my innocency.  
Gentlemen Soldiers, Among the ancient and savage sort of Heathen, they had a Law once every three, six, or twelve months to offer up a sacrifice of humane blood to their God; and that their God was a Devil: Among us, whether heathen or not you best know, of late years we have had a fatal custom, once in three, six, or twelve months to make not only a sacrifice, but many sacrifices of humane Christian blood, our Scaffolds have reeked and smoked with the choicest sort of blood. But unto what God do you judge? What God is he that delights in the blood of man? Baal, the god of Ekron, Beelzebub, the god of Flies.  
Amongst the Primitive Christians that lived nearest the time of our Saviour Christ, the greatest Tyrants and persecutors of the Christians lived; the persecution was great, and yet the courage of those persecuted Christians was so great, that it excelled the fury of the persecutors; that they came in faster to be killed, than they could kill; they offered their bodies and throats so thick unto the slaughter, that the hands of the Tyrants were weary with killing; and yet Sanguinis Martirum, was Semen Ecclesiae, and many Heathens came in with the Christians, seeing their cheerful constancy, turned Christians, and died Christians, and died with them; the Christians still increased the more.  
Of late years here hath been a great persecution in this Nation, and yet the sufferers have been so many, and present themselves so thick in the vindication of their King, Country, and Laws, that they startled the very enemy himself; their constancy so great, that the eyes of their Judges dropped tears, whether real or true, let the Judge of Judge's judge; They still stand amazed at their constancy, though they exceed the old Heathens; Are not weary of killing.  
Oh Soldiers! How many of you have been brought up, and led on by blind Principles, wronged in your Education, or seduced by your, indiscreet heedless and heady Teachers? How many of you young men have for some small discontent departed from your loving Masters, dear Friends, or tender Parents, and fled into the Army? How many of you driven by Tyrannous oppression, poverty, or cruelty, have left your dear wives and children? And some for novelty or wantonness adhere to this employment, not considering the great danger of spilling innocent blood.  
How many of you have drawn your Swords you do not know for what? How many of you keep drawn your swords, you do not know for what? You have put to death a pious and just King, and in his stead have reared up even another Jeroboam, that makes Israel to sin: What his goodness is, you best know: You have put down a good old Law, and reared up another of your own to judge the people by; my calling for the benefit of the former, and for the equity even of your own Law, I am in part condemned here to die. Be you Judge of the proceed.  
How many of you have had a hand in putting down the ancient true Church, and raised up in your own imaginations a new one? But alas! You know not what you do; if you did, you would grieve to see what a glorious Church you have ruined: you would never have pulled down the hedges, and broken down the fences, that the wild beast of the Forest should come in, that the little foxes should devour; and the wild Boar should root out so stately a Vine.  
When the Jews were led into captivity, their goodly and magnificent Temple was burnt; but in process of time, they obtained favour amongst the Heathen Kings they dwelled amongst, and had liberty wherewith to rebuild: rebuild they did, and finished a second Temple, at which sight all the young men rejoiced to see so gallant a Temple, but the old men wept to see how far different and short the second Temple was from the glory of the first: So you young men rejoice at your imaginary Church, but the old men me thinks I see some weep, (Oh weep not for me) weep for your Country, weep to see Religion, Liberty and Laws taken from you, weep to see so many good men snatched away, but indeed from the miseries to come, and weep for what your unhappy selves will suffer.  
Soldiers, however you flourish for a time, and perhaps many of you may rejoice at our deaths, but believe it, as Samson pulled the house of the Philistims down when he fell: so shall we give you and your Cause a greater blow by our deaths, than living we possible could have done. You may for a time flourish, but remember what our Saviour said, All you that make use of the Sword, shall perish by the Sword, you shall be cut down like the grass, and whither away like the green herbs.  
But do you behold yonder glorious place? Do you behold the spangled Heavens, where the holy Angels dwell, where God himself is rounded with thrones, Principalities, Powers, and the Celestial Spirits of just men, when the Trump shall blow, when the dead shall rise at the dreadful day of judgement? How will you answer all your Rapes and Murders? Do you think your hands that have been bathed in the blood of your King, the blood of so many of your eminent Counrrey-men so unjustly, they have been bathed in the blood of many of your friends, your kindred, perhaps your Parents, can ever reach yonder glorious place without repentance? Oh no, repent now therefore, it is not too late, shake off your Bloody Protector, rescue your ancient Laws, and call in your Royal young PRINCE, whom you have long enough wronged; Make your Addresses to the great Protector of Heaven and Earth, and desire him as I now do for myself for a Pardon, for a Pardon for all your former and present transgressions.  
I die an obedient Son of the Church of England, and with a dutiful heart to the KING, and desire that none present that loves him, will be disheartened by my death, but continue faithful to the end.  
And so farewell, I forgive all the world, etc.  
FINIS.