1660.

Now I return again to Mary Dyar, who being come to Rhode Island, went from thence to Long Island, where she staid the most part of the winter: and then coming home again, she was moved to return to the bloody town of Boston, whither she came on the 21st of the Third month, 1660, and on the 31st she was sent for by the general court. Being come, the governor, John Endicot, said, ‘Are you the same Mary Dyar that was here before?’ And it seems he was preparing an evasion for her, there having been another of that name returned from Old England. But she was so far from disguising, that she answered undauntedly, ‘I am the same Mary Dyar that was here the last general court.’ Then Endicot said, ‘You will own yourself a Quaker, will you not?’ To which Mary Dyar said, ‘I own myself to be reproachfully called so.’ Then the jailer, (who would also say something,) said, ‘She is a vagabond.’ And Endicot said, the sentence was past upon her the last general court, and now likewise: ‘You must return to the prison, and there remain till to-morrow at nine o’clock; then from thence you must go to the gallows, and there be hanged till you are dead.’ To which Mary Dyar said, ‘This is no more than what thou saidst before.’ And Endicot returned, ‘But now it is to be executed; therefore prepare yourself to-morrow at nine o’clock.’ She then spoke thus: ‘I came in obedience to the will of God the last general court, desiring you to repeal your unrighteous laws of banishment on pain of death; and that same is my work now, and earnest request; although I told you, that if you refused to repeal them, the Lord would send others of his servants to witness against them.’ Hereupon Endicot asked her, whether she was a prophetess? And she answered, ‘she spoke the words that the Lord spoke in her; and now the thing was come to pass.’ And beginning to speak of her call, Endicot cried, ‘Away with her; away with her.’ So she was brought to the prison house where she was before, and kept close shut up until the next day.

About the appointed time the marshal Michaelson came, and called her to come hastily; and coming into the room where she was, she desired him to stay a little; and speaking mildly, said, she should be ready presently. But he being of a rough temper, said he could not wait upon her, but she should now wait upon him. One Margaret Smith, her companion, being grieved to see such hard-heartedness, spoke something against their unjust laws and proceedings; to which he said, ‘You shall have your share of the same.’ Then Mary Dyar was brought forth, and with a band of soldiers led through the town, the drums being beaten before and behind her, and so continued, that none might hear her speak all the way to the place of execution, which was about a mile. With this guard she came to the gallows, and being gone up the ladder, some said to her, that if she would return, she might come down and save her life. To which she replied, ‘Nay, I cannot, for in obedience to the will of the Lord I came, and in his will I abide faithful to the death.’ Then captain John Webb said, that she had been there before, and had the sentence of banishment upon pain of death, and had broken the law in coming again now; and therefore she was guilty of her own blood. To which she returned, ‘Nay, I came to keep blood-guiltiness from you, desiring you to repeal the unrighteous and unjust law of banishment upon pain of death, made against the innocent servants of the Lord; therefore my blood will be required at your hands, who wilfully do it: but for those that do it in the simplicity of their hearts, I desire the Lord to forgive them. I came to do the will of my Father, and in obedience to his will, I stand even to death.’ Then priest Wilson said, ‘Mary Dyar, O repent, O repent, and be not so deluded, and carried away by the deceit of the devil.’ To this Mary Dyar answered, ‘Nay, man, I am not now to repent.’ And being asked by some, whether she would have the elders pray for her, she said, ‘I know never an elder here.’ Being further asked, whether she would have any of the people to pray for her? She answered, she desired the prayers of all the people of God. Thereupon some scoffingly said, ‘It may be she thinks there is none here.’ She looking about, said, ‘I know but few here.’ Then they spoke to her again, that one of the elders might pray for her. To which she replied, ‘Nay, first a child, then a young man, then a strong man, before an elder in Christ Jesus.’ After this she was charged with something which was not understood what it was, but she seemed to hear it; for she said, ‘It is false, it is false; I never spoke those words.’ Then one mentioned that she should have said, she had been in paradise. To which she answered, ‘Yea, I have been in paradise several days.’ And more she spoke of the eternal happiness into which she was now to enter. In this well-disposed condition she was turned off, and died a martyr of Christ, being twice led to death, which the first time she expected with undaunted courage, and now suffered with Christian fortitude.

Thus this honest, valiant woman finished her days: but so hardened were these persecutors, that one of the court said scoffingly, ‘She did hang as a flag for others to take example by.’ And putting to death for religion did not yet cease, as will be related hereafter: but first I will take a turn again to Old England, where there was now great division, and a revolution in the state.

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About the beginning of this year, E. Burrough wrote the following letter to the parliament, which then had the power again in their hands.

This was directed for the hands of the speaker in parliament, and accordingly was given to William Lenthal, being inclosed to him with these lines following

This parliament did so lord it, that about fifteen hundred military officers were cashiered, and others put into their places.

About this time George Fox the younger wrote also a letter to the parliament and the army, which was as followeth:

This letter being printed, a copy of it was given to each parliament man, before Monk with his army came into London; and how soon the predictions contained therein, as well as those of E. Burrough, in the foregoing year, came to be fulfilled, when many of the great ones were hanged and quartered, we shall see in the sequel.

General Monk came now, with part of the army he commanded, out of Scotland; into England, and made great alterations among the officers, putting in such as were believed to be no enemies to Charles Stuart; for whatsoever Monk said of his resolution to be true and faithful to the parliament, and to promote the interest of a commonwealth; yet it appeared ere long that he aimed at something else; which he could do the easier, because he wanted not adherents in the parliament; though he did not stick to say to Edmund Ludlow, ‘We must live and die for, and with, a commonwealth:’ and to others he declared, that he would oppose to the utmost the setting up of Charles Stuart. In the meanwhile he so ordered it, that many members of the parliament, that had been long excluded as unqualified, took session again in that assembly; and these brought it about, that sir George Booth, who was confined to the Tower, for having carried on a design for Charles Stuart, was set at liberty. Neither was the city of London in a condition to oppose Monk; for he caused the port-cullies, and doors of the city gates, and the posts to be pulled down; and the royalists were now become so bold, that they printed a list of the names of the judges that condemned king Charles the First to death; and some of them were secured, whilst others fled away. General Lambert was also sent to the Tower, and Monk, whose authority now increased, sent for the lords, who until the year 1648, had sat in parliament, and bade them return to the house where they formerly used to sit.

In these overturnings G. Fox came to London, to wit, in the time when they were breaking the city gates. He then wrote a paper to those that were now sinking, and told them, that now the prophecies were fulfilling upon them, which had been spoken to them; and that they who used to call the Quakers fanatics, and giddyheads, now seemed themselves giddy, and fugitives or wanderers.

From London G. Fox went to Sussex, and from thence to Dorsetshire. At Dorchester he had a great meeting in the evening at the inn where he lodged, and there came many soldiers, who were pretty civil. But the constables and officers of the town came also, under pretence to look for a Jesuit, whose head, they said, was shaved. So they took off G. Fox’s hat, but not finding any bald place on his head, they went away with shame. This was of good service among the soldiers and others, and it affected the people, who were turned to the Lord Jesus Christ.

Then he passed into Somersetshire, where his friends meetings were often disturbed. One time there came a wicked man, who having a bear’s skin on his back, played ugly pranks in the meeting; and setting himself opposite to the person that was preaching, lolled his tongue out of his mouth, and so made sport for his wicked followers, and caused great disturbance in the meeting. But as he went back from thence, an eminent judgment overtook him; for there being a bull-baiting in the way, he staid to see; and coming within his reach, the bull pushed his horn under the man’s chin, into his throat, and forced his tongue out of his mouth, so that it hung out in the same manner as before he lolled it out in derision in the meeting: and the bull running his horn into the man’s head, swung him about in a most fearful manner.

G. Fox travelling through Somersetshire, came into Devonshire, and so went into Cornwall, till he came to the Land’s End. Whilst he was in Cornwall, there were great shipwrecks about the Land’s End. Now it was the custom of that country, that at such times both rich and poor went out to get as much of the wreck as they could, not caring to save the people’s lives; and this custom so prevailed, that in some parts of the country they called shipwrecks, God’s grace. This grieved G. Fox not a little, considering how far these professed Christians were below the heathen at Melita, who courteously received Paul, and the others that had suffered shipwreck with him, and made him a fire. On this consideration, he was moved to write a paper to the magistrates, priests, and others, both high and low; in which he showed them the wickedness of their deeds, and reproved them for such greedy actions, telling them how they were ready to fight with one another for the spoil, and spend what they got in taverns or ale-houses, letting those that escaped drowning, go a begging up and down the country. Therefore he seriously exhorted them, to do unto others, what they would have done to themselves.

This paper he sent to all the parishes thereabouts: and after having had many meetings in Cornwall, and several eminent people being convinced of the Truth preached by him, he went to Bristol, where the meetings of his friends were exceedingly disturbed by the soldiers. Having heard this, he desired George Bishop, Thomas Gouldney, Thomas Speed, and Edward Pyot, to go to the mayor and aldermen, and desire them to let his friends have the town-hall to meet in, provided it should not be on such days when the mayor and aldermen had business to do in it; and that for this use they would give twenty pounds a year, to be distributed among the poor. These four persons were astonished at this proposal, and said, the mayor and aldermen would think them mad; for the mayor and the commander of the soldiers had combined together to make a disturbance in their meetings. But G. Fox so encouraged them, that at last they consented to what he desired. Being come to the mayor, he was moderate beyond expectation; and when they had laid the thing before him, he said, for his part, he could consent to it; but he was but one. So they left him in a loving frame of mind; and coming back, G. Fox desired them to go also to the colonel that commanded the soldiers, and to acquaint him of their rude carriage, and how they disturbed the meetings. But the aforesaid four persons were backward to go to him. Next morning being the First day of the week, a meeting was kept in an orchard, where many people came; and after G. Fox had been preaching a pretty while, there came several rude soldiers, some with drawn swords, and some drunk, and among these one that had bound himself with an oath to cut down, and kill the man that spoke. But when he came pressing in through the crowd, and was within two yards of G. Fox, he stopped at those four persons before mentioned, and fell a jangling with them; but at length his sword was put up again. The next day they went and spoke with the colonel, and he having heard how mischievous his soldiers had been, sent for them, and cut and slashed some of them. When this was told G. Fox, he blamed those his friends, thinking they might have prevented the cutting of the soldiers, if they had gone to the colonel when he would have had them. Yet this had such effect, that the meeting there was kept without disturbance a good while after.

G. Fox then also had a general meeting at Edward Pyot’s, near Bristol, at which were several thousands of people; and so many of Bristol, that some said, the city looked naked; and all was quiet.

But in other places, about this time, things were not so quiet; for the soldiers, under general Monk’s command, were often very rude in disturbing of meetings. But when complaint was made to him, who was then at Westminster, he showed that he would not countenance such wickedness, and did in that respect better than several other generals had done, for he gave forth the following order.

Monk having thus long declared for a commonwealth, and against a king, began now to take off the mask; for the old lords had now taken their places again in the House of Peers, out of which they had been kept so many years; and by the advice of Monk, Charles Stuart, (who for several years had lived at Cologne, and, having made a voyage to Spain, was from thence come, by France, to Brussels,) repaired to Breda: and in England it being resolved upon to call him back, and to restore him, he gave forth the following declaration at Breda; thereby to persuade those that were yet backward to acknowledge him.

The original of this declaration was sent to the House of Lords, and a duplicate in a letter to the House of Commons; and repeated and sent in a letter to General Monk, the council of state, and the officers of the army. Hereupon it was resolved by the parliament, to prepare an answer; and both in the House of Lords, and in the House of Commons, it was voted to proclaim king Charles at Whitehall, and in London, as lawful sovereign of his kingdoms, which was done on the 8th of the month called May.

Now the king, who by the Spaniards was invited to return to Brussels, and by the French to come to Calais, chose, at the pressing invitation of the States-general of the United Provinces, to go by Holland: and so he went, with the yachts of the States, to Rotterdam, and from thence with coaches to the Hague; where having staid some days, he took shipping at Schevelinghen for England, and made his entry at London on the anniversary of his birth-day. Thus we see Charles the Second, (who not long after was crowned,) restored, not by the sword, but by the marvellous hand of the Lord.

About this time G. Fox the younger came to Harwich, where he was hauled out of a meeting, and imprisoned under a pretence of having caused a tumult. But to give to the reader a true sight of the matter, I must go back a little.

About four years before this time, some of the people called Quakers, being come into the said town, one of them spoke a few words by way of exhortation to the people that came from the steeple-house; and passing on, he and those with him went to an inn. The mayor hearing thereof, sent to them, commanding that they should depart the town, which they did after a short space; but about night they returned, and lodged at their inn, and the next day passed away peaceably. Not long after, the woman that kept the inn, was commanded to come before the magistrates; who threatened to take away her license, unless she promised to lodge no more such persons. But how eager soever they were for keeping out the Quakers, yet it proved ineffectual; for it seems some of those that had been spoken to in the streets, were so reached, that they came to be obedient to the inward teachings of the Lord they had been recommended to. And so a way was made for meetings there, whereby the number of those of that society began to increase. And because they could no longer comply with superstitious burials, they bought a piece of ground to bury their dead in, but met with great opposition at their burials; and once, when several came along to bury a corpse, it was by force taken from them, and set by the sea side, where having lain above ground part of two days and one night, it was privately covered by some with small stones.

In the month called May, G. Fox the younger came to Harwich, to preach the Truth there. The mayor of the town, whose name was Miles Hubbard, having heard of this, stopt several that were going to the meeting. The rude multitude seeing it, grew insolent, and made a hideous noise before the house where the meeting was kept, and some were for pulling it down. G. Fox hearing the noise, whilst he was preaching, grew very zealous, and with a mighty power was made to say, ‘Wo, wo unto the rulers and teachers of this nation, who suffer such ungodliness as this, and do not seek to suppress it.’ Some that heard him thus speaking, went and told the magistrates of it, perhaps not in the self-same words as were uttered by him. The officers then coming, the mayor commanded the constables to take the said G. Fox into custody; who hearing this, said, ‘If I have done any thing worthy of death, or bonds, I shall not refuse either; but I desire thee to show me what law I have transgressed; which thou oughtest to do, before thou sendest me to prison, that I may know for what I am sent thither.’ But the mayor told him, he should know that afterward; and so he was carried to prison. Robert Grassingham, who was shipwright of the admiralty in that port, being at the meeting, out of which G. Fox was hauled, in love went freely along with him to prison. This seemed to please the mayor, who some days before had been heard to say concerning Grassingham, ‘If I could but get him out of the town, I should know what course to take with the other Quakers.’ Some time after G. Fox was imprisoned, a mittimus was sent to the jailer, in which the prisoner was charged with causing a tumult in that borough, and disturbing the peace thereof. This mittimus was signed by Miles Hubbard, mayor, Anthony Woolward, and Daniel Smith; and these magistrates sent notice of what they had done, to the parliament, under a specious pretence, that so they might not fall into disgrace. The parliament receiving this information, issued forth the following order:

By this it appeared that the magistrates of Harwich had special friends in the parliament. R. Grassingham being at liberty, was gone to London; and when this order came to Harwich, G. Fox was delivered to the sheriff of Essex and his men: these went with him to London, and upon the road they met Grassingham, who was coming from London to Harwich, in pursuance of an order which he had received from the commissioner of the admiralty and navy, for refitting one of the king’s frigates. But notwithstanding Grassingham showed his order to the sheriff, yet he brought him back to London with Fox, and delivered them into the custody of the serjeant at arms attending the house, who committed them to Lambeth house. They having been there about three weeks, wrote a letter to the House of Commons, wherein they gave some account of the manner of their imprisonment, and desired that they with their accusers might be brought face to face before the parliament, saying, that if any thing could be proved against them, worthy of punishment, they should not refuse it. But they thought it to be unjust and unreasonable, that a man should be hauled out of a peaceable meeting, and sent to prison, without being examined, only for declaring against the cursing and the wickedness of the rude people, and against such as suffered such ungodliness, and did not seek to suppress it.

This was the chief contents of their paper, which they enclosed in a letter to the speaker of the House of Commons in these words:

We are friends to righteousness and truth,
and to all that are found therein.

ROBERT GRASSINGHAM,
GEORGE FOX.’

But the speaker did not deliver the paper, under pretence that it was not directed with the ordinary title, ‘To the Right Honourable the House of Commons.’ Therefore by the help of their friends they got it printed, that so each member of parliament might have a copy of it. Now after they had lain about fourteen weeks in Lambeth gate-house without being examined, one of the members of parliament moved this business in the house; whereupon the following order was made:

Shortly after this order was issued forth, the serjeant at arms sent his clerk to demand fees and chamber rent of the prisoners, asking fifty pounds for fees, and ten shillings a week for chamber rent. But since no evil was laid to their charge, they could not resolve to satisfy this unreasonable demand, yet offered to pay two shillings and six pence a week, though the chamber where they had lain, was the highest room in a lofty tower, and all the windows open, until they had gotten them glazed, without any charge to the serjeant. Matters standing thus, their cause was referred to the king’s privy council. But it lasted yet a good while before they were released; for several evasions were made use of to keep them in custody.

Whilst G. Fox was prisoner, he wrote a little book, which he called, ‘A Noble Salutation to king Charles Stuart,’ wherein he showed him how matters had gone in England, viz. That his father’s party scorned those that appeared in arms against them because of their meanness; for they were tradesmen, ploughmen, servants, and the like; which contemptible instruments God made use of to bring down the loftiness of the others. But those of the parliament party growing from time to time successful, and prevailing, got into the possessions of those they conquered, and fell into the same pride and oppression which they had cried out against in others; and many of them became greater oppressors, and persecutors than the former had been. Moreover, the author exhorted the king to observe the hand of the Lord in restoring of him. ‘Therefore,’ said he, ‘Let no man deceive thee, by persuading thee that these things are thus brought to pass, because the kingdom was thy own proper right, and because it was withheld from thee contrary to all right; or because that those called royalists are much more righteous than those who are now fallen under thee. For I plainly declare unto thee, that this kingdom, and all the kingdoms of the earth, are properly the Lord’s. And this know, that it was the just hand of God, in taking away the kingdom from thy father and thee: and giving it unto others; and that also it is the just hand of the Lord to take it again from them, and bring them under thee: though I shall not say, but that some of them went beyond their commission against thy father, when they were brought as a rod over you; and well will it be for thee, if thou becomest not guilty of the same transgressions.

The author further exhorts the king to consider, this his station was not without danger, because of the changeableness of the people, a great part of which were perfidious; since one while they had sworn for a king and parliament; and shortly after they swore against a king, single person, or house of Lords; and afterwards again they swore for a single person. Some time after they cried up a parliament again. And when O. Cromwell had turned out the parliament, and set up himself, then the priests prayed for him, and asserted his authority to be just; and when he died, they fawned upon his son Richard, and blasphemously termed his father the light of their eyes, and the breath of their nostrils; and they told him, that God had left him to carry on that glorious work which his father had begun. Nay, some priests compared Oliver to Moses, and Richard to Joshua, who should carry them into the promised land. Thus they continually would flatter those that were at the helm. For when George Booth made a rising, and they thought there would be a turn, then some of the priests cried out against the parliament, and cursed such as would not go out against them. But when Booth was taken, then many began to petition the parliament and to excuse themselves, that they had no hand in that rising.

Next the author set forth the wickedness of the people by excessive drinking and drunkenness, thereby as it were to show their loyalty to the king; and he relates also, how having preached at Harwich, against the grievous wickedness of the people, he was hauled to prison in the king’s name. Finally, he exhorts the king, to take heed of seeking revenge; and to show mercy.

This paper, which was not a small one, for it took up several sheets, was delivered in writing by Richard Hubberthorn, into the king’s hand at Whitehall, and was not long after by the author published in print.

Now one of the most eminent royalists drew up divers queries to the Quakers, desiring them to answer them, and to direct their answer with this superscription, ‘Tradite hanc amico Regis,’ that is, ‘Deliver this to the king’s friend.’ For it was clearly seen, that several of their predictions came to be fulfilled, of which those of Edward Burrough were not the least. And therefore some, (as it seems,) thought that by the Quakers they might get some knowledge whether any stability of the king’s government was to be expected. By the queries it appeared, that the author of them was a man of understanding, and of some moderation also; and though I do not know who he was, yet I am not without thoughts that Edward, earl of Clarendon, and high chancellor, may have been the penman thereof. The tendency of these queries chiefly was to know from the Quakers, what their judgment was concerning the king’s right to the crown; and whether they ever did foresee his return; and also whether they could judge that his reign and government should be blessed or not. Moreover, whether he might justly forgive, or avenge himself: and whether he might allow liberty of conscience to all sorts of people, &c. Edward Burrough answered these queries, and published his answer in print. It was directed to the king and the royalists. In it he showed, that in some of their writings it had been signified, that they had some expectations of the king’s restoration. That the king’s coming to the throne was reasonable and equitable, because through the purpose of the Lord. That his reign and government might be blessed, or not blessed, according to his carriage. And that he might justly forgive his, and his father’s enemies; for though he and his father might have been injured, yet for as much as they had applied to the sword to determine their controversy with the nation, the sword went against them; and by that whereby they thought to stand, they did fall; and who then should they blame for that which befel them, seeing the sword, which they themselves did choose, destroyed them. However, the author signified, that this was not meant of the king’s death; that being quite another case. And if such, who had destroyed kingly government in name and title, and pretended to govern better, and did not make reformation, but became oppressors, having broke their promises, came to be punished on that account with death or otherwise, such could not be said to suffer for a good conscience, nor for righteousness sake; but it was because they were oppressors; and suffering for that cause could not be called persecution. ‘But none of us, (thus ran Edward Burrough’s words,) can suffer for that cause, as not being guilty thereof. If we suffer in your government, it is for the name of Christ; because nothing can be charged against us in this capacity as we now stand, and in this state into which we are now gathered and changed, not in any matter of action or rebellion against the king nor his father; nor in any thing but concerning the law and worship of our God, and the matters of his kingdom, and our pure consciences. And if any that are now amongst us were any way engaged in the parliament service in the wars, it was not in rebellion against the king or his father, as that we sought their destruction as men; but upon sober and reasonable principles, and not for corrupt ends, nor to get honour and riches to ourselves, as some others might do, who went into the war for self ends, and continued in action, after the cause which was once engaged for was utterly lost. And that principle, which some time led some into action to oppose oppression, and seek after reformation, that principle is still justified, though we are now better informed than once we were. For though we do now more than ever oppose oppression, and seek after reformation, yet we do it not in that way of outward warring and fighting with carnal weapons and swords; and you and the king ought to put a difference between such as some time acted in the wars against you, in and upon sober and reasonable principles, and that did not make themselves rich and high in the world through your sufferings, and between such as have acted against you for self ends, and have insulted over you, and have made themselves great and rich in this world through your afflictions and sufferings.’ To the query, whether the great afflictions sustained by the king divers years, from subjects of his own nation, and the guilt thereof, did lie upon all the subjects in general; or whether upon any, or some particular sorts of people, who were such more than others; E. Burrough made this answer, ‘So far as his sufferings were unjust, the guilt thereof doth not lie upon all the subjects in general, but upon some more than others; and such are easy to be distinguished from others, if it be considered who they are that raised the war in this nation against the king, and who first preached and prayed up the war, and prosecuted it against the king’s father, and who cast out the bishops and prelates from their places, and took their revenues and benefices, and are become men as corrupted, as covetous and self-seeking, as proud and ambitious, as unjust persecutors, as ever the men were which they cast out: and who is it that hath gotten great estates in the nation, and worldly honour, and raised themselves from nothing by the wars, and by your sufferings; and who got the estates and titles of their enemies, and pretended to free them from all oppressions, but have not done it; but have continued the old oppressions, and have been striving among themselves who should rule, and who should be great? And as for us, who are called Quakers, we are clear from the guilt of all the king’s sufferings. We have not cast out others, and taken their places of great benefices, neither have we made war with carnal weapons against any, ever since we were a people. Neither have we broken oaths and engagements, nor promised freedom and deliverance, and for self ends and earthly riches betrayed, as others have done, what we have pretended to. And in many particulars it doth appear that we are clear from his sufferings, for we have been a suffering people as well as they, by the same spirit which caused them to suffer, which hath been much more cruel, wicked, and unjust towards us, than it hath been towards them, though our persecution hath been in another manner. But what they have done against us we can freely forgive them, and would have you to follow the same example. And if you could accuse them in many things, so could we: but this is not a time to accuse one another, but to forgive one another, and so to overcome your enemies. When they had gotten the victory, they did not reform, but became oppressors, as well as others, and became cruel towards others, that would not say and do as they: and for this cause the Lord hath brought them down, and may justly suffer others to deal with them as they have dealt with others. Yet notwithstanding I must still say, and it is my judgment, that there was very great oppression and vexation under the government of the late king, and bishops under his power, which the Lord was offended with, and many good people oppressed by; for which cause the Lord might and did justly raise up some to oppose, and strive against oppressions and injustice, and to press after reformation in all things. And that principle of sincerity, which in some things carried them on in opposing oppressions and pressing after reformation, I can never deny, but acknowledge it; though many soon lost it, and became self-seekers, forgetting the cause pretended to,’ &c.

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This is but a small part of the queries, and the answers thereunto, which E. Burrough concluded with a bold exhortation to the king, to fear and reverence the Lord.

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Now we return again to G. Fox the elder, whom we left about Bristol; from whence he passed to Gloucester, Worcester, Drayton, (the place of his nativity,) and Yorkshire. In that country at that time a Yearly meeting was kept at Balby, in an orchard, where some thousands of people were met together. At York, about thirty miles off, notice being given of this meeting, a troop of horse came from thence; and when G. Fox stood preaching in the meeting on a stool, two trumpeters came riding up, sounding their trumpets pretty near him; and then the captain bid him come down, for he was come, he said, to disperse the meeting. G. Fox then speaking, told him, he knew they were peaceable people; but if he did question that they met in an hostile manner, he might make search among them; and if he found either sword or pistol about any there, such may suffer. But the captain told G. Fox, he must see them dispersed, for he came all night on purpose to disperse them. G. Fox asked him, what honour it would be to him to ride with swords and pistols amongst so many unarmed men and women? But if he would be still and quiet, the meeting probably might not continue above two or three hours; and when it was done, as they came peaceably, so they should part: for he might perceive, the meeting was so large, that all the country thereabouts could not entertain them, but that they intended to depart towards their homes at night. But the captain said, he could not stay so long. G. Fox desired then, that if he himself could not stay to see the meeting ended, he would let a dozen of his soldiers stay. To this the captain said, he would permit them an hour’s time; so he left six soldiers to stay there, and then went away with his troop: he being gone, the soldiers that were left, told those that were met together, they might stay till night, if they would. This they were not for, but parted about three hours after, without any disturbance. But if the soldiers had been of such a temper as their captain, perhaps the meeting would not have ended thus quietly: for he was a desperate man, having once told G. Fox in Scotland, that he would obey his superiors’ command; and if it were to crucify Christ, he would do it; or execute the great Turk’s commands against the Christians, if he were under him.

Now G. Fox went to Skipton, where there was a general meeting concerning the affairs of the church. For many of his friends suffered much, and their goods being taken from them, and some brought to poverty, there was a necessity to provide for them. This meeting had stood several years; for when the justices and captains came to break them up, and saw the books and accounts of collections for relief of the poor, and how care was taken that one county should help another, and provide for the poor, they commended such practice, and passed away in love. Sometimes there would come two hundred poor people, belonging to other societies, and wait there till the meeting was done: and then the Friends would send to the baker’s for bread, and give every one of these poor people a loaf, how many soever there were: for they were taught to do good unto all, though especially to the household of faith.

From hence G. Fox went to Lancaster, and so to Swarthmore, where he was apprehended at the house of Margaret Fell, who was now a widow, judge Thomas Fell, her husband, having been deceased about two years before. Now some imagined they had done a remarkable act; for one said, he did not think a thousand men could have taken G. Fox. They led him away to Ulverstone, where he was kept all night at the constable’s house, and a guard of fifteen or sixteen men were set to watch him; some of which sat in the chimney, for fear he should go up the funnel. Next morning he was carried to Lancaster, but exceedingly abused by the way; and being come to town, was brought to the house of a justice, whose name was Henry Porter, and who had granted the warrant against him. He asked Porter, for what, and by whose order, he had sent forth his warrant; and he complained to him of the abuse of the constables and other officers: for they had set him upon a horse behind the saddle, so that he had nothing to hold by; and maliciously beating the horse, made him kick and gallop, and throw off his rider. But Porter would not take any notice of that, and told G. Fox, he had an order; but would not let him see it, for he would not reveal the king’s secrets. After many words were exchanged, he was carried to Lancaster prison. Being there a close prisoner in the common jail, he desired two of his friends, one of which was Thomas Green, the other Thomas Commings, a minister of the gospel, (with whom I was very familiarly acquainted,) to go to the jailer, and desire of him a copy of his mittimus. They went, but the jailer told them he could not give a copy of it; yet he gave it them to read; and to the best of their remembrance, the matters therein charged against him were, that G. Fox was a person generally suspected to be a common disturber of the peace of the nation, an enemy to the king, and a chief upholder of the Quakers’ sect: and that he, together with others of his fanatic opinion, had of late endeavoured to raise insurrections in these parts of the country, and to embroil the whole kingdom in blood. Wherefore the jailer was commanded to keep him in safe custody, till he should be released by order from the king and parliament. No wonder that the jailer would not give a copy of his mittimus, for it contained almost as many untruths as words. G. Fox then wrote an apology, wherein he answered at large to all those false accusations. And Margaret Fell, considering what injury was offered to her, by hauling G. Fox out of her house, wrote the following information, and sent it abroad.