This letter, (a clear evidence of the author’s innocent courage,) was delivered to the king, who read it, and seemed to be reached thereby, and touched at heart: but his brother, the duke of York, was displeased with it, and being violently set against the author, advised the king to use severity towards him; but the king being good-natured, said, ‘It were better for us to mend our lives.’

Whilst the said G. Fox was prisoner in Lambeth-house, he wrote also a small treatise, called, ‘England’s sad Estate and Condition lamented.’ Herein he reproved the grievous abominations committed among the inhabitants, oppression by persecution, and the hypocrisy of the priests. He also predicted the pestilence, as may be mentioned hereafter in due place; and signified not obscurely, that endeavours would be used publicly to introduce superstition and idolatry; but that those who intended to do so, should be frustrated by the Lord in their attempts. And that others, whose worship also did displease the Lord, should grind and waste one another: but that beyond their expectation, he would pluck out from them, and preserve a holy seed. And that after he should have executed his vengeance upon the rebellious and treacherous dealers, he would then bring forth the remnant of his holy seed, which should be preserved from their fury; and then they should spread over all, and stand in dominion. ‘But,’ thus continued he, ‘although these things, touching the holy remnant, shall certainly be fulfilled in their season, yet before they will be fully accomplished, great will be the trials of many of the righteous, and there will be great judgments executed in thee, O land, by him, who ofttimes maketh a fruitful land barren, because of the wickedness of them that dwell therein.’ This, and much more he wrote, and published it in print. Several of his predictions we have seen fulfilled, as in the progress of this history may appear: and this last we must refer to time. After the writing of this treatise, he also gave forth the following prayer.

This G. Fox wrote also in prison several other papers and epistles, for exhortation and consolation of his friends: but his work was soon done, so that not long after he departed this life, which was in this, or the next year. He was, as may be seen from his writings, a man of extraordinary resignation and courage; and that he gave up his life, if required, may appear from a small book that he wrote, being prisoner in Lambeth-house, which he called, ‘The Dread of God’s Power uttering its Voice through Man, unto the Heads of the Nation.’ Herein he exhorted the rulers very earnestly to do justice; and said amongst the rest, ‘Friends, I must deal plainly with you in the sight of God, who hath made me a prophet to the nation. I may not flatter any of you. My life is in the hand of my Maker, and not one hair of my head can fall to the ground without his providence. He hath redeemed my soul from hell, and my mind from the earth; and he hath given me his good Spirit to lead me. I am henceforth no more my own, but I am the Lord’s, who hath formed me to his praise, and hath brought me forth, that I may sound forth his powerful Truth amongst the people. Therefore must I not fear man, neither must I be afraid of the sons of men.’

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Thus undaunted he showed himself: but it was not long before he made his exit, of which I cannot but say something. In his sickness I find, that though he was weak in body, yet he was strong in spirit, so that he would sing for joy of heart. He exhorted his friends to keep in unity, foreseeing, it may be, that something would rise which might give occasion for division: and then with much fervency of spirit, he prayed God, and exhorted his friends, to keep their garments unspotted of the world, because great was the day of trial that was at hand. Afterwards recommending them to the Lord, he took his leave of them, and slept in perfect peace with the Lord, being of sound memory to the last. Now the dust was returned to the earth, and the spirit unto God who gave it. Thus he was freed of all danger of losing the crown of immortal life, which man by temptation, and the casualties of this life, is liable unto, if he continueth not diligently watchful. But this valiant was now beyond the reach of all temptations, and so I leave him, that I may pass on to other matters.

In this year E. Burrough wrote a paper to the king and his council, which he called, ‘A just and Righteous Plea,’ in which he proposed at large, the reasons why the people called Quakers, refused to take the oath of allegiance, viz. That it was not because they would not be faithful to the king, but only for conscience-sake, since Christ so expressly had commanded his followers, “Swear not at all,” which command they durst not transgress. Yet to assure the government of their faithfulness, he said thus:

Thus fully E. Burrough declared himself, and gave also a circumstantial relation of the practice of his friends meeting together, or their way of public worship, thereby to assure the government of their peaceable behaviour and fidelity. But all this proved in vain; for it being well known that the Quakers denied swearing, they continually were vexed and persecuted, under a pretence of not giving due satisfaction of their being faithful to the government, and so transgressing the laws.

Now the deputies of New England came to London, and endeavoured to clear themselves as much as possible, but especially priest Norton, who bowed no less reverently before the archbishop, than before the king; and thus fawning upon the Episcopalians, they found means to keep in a condition to vex the Quakers, so called, though they were forbidden to put them to death: and that many of the bishops were great enemies to the said Quakers, appeared plainly from the cruel persecution which after a short calm arose in England.

But to return to the New England deputies, they would fain have altogether excused themselves: and priest Norton thought it sufficient to say, that he did not assist in the bloody trial, nor had advised to it: but John Copeland, whose ear was cut off at Boston, charged the contrary upon him: and G. Fox, the elder, got occasion to speak with them in the presence of some of his friends; and asked Simon Broadstreet, one of the New England magistrates, whether he had not a hand in putting to death, those they nick-named Quakers? He not being able to deny this, confessed he had. Then G. Fox asked him and his associates that were present, whether they would acknowledge themselves to be subjects to the laws of England; and if they did, by what laws they put his friends to death? They answered, they were subjects to the laws of England; and they had put his friends to death by the same law, as the Jesuits were put to death in England. Hereupon G. Fox asked, whether they did believe that those his friends, whom they had put to death, were Jesuits, or jesuitically affected? They said, ‘Nay.’ Then replied G. Fox, ‘Ye have murdered them; for since ye put them to death by the law that Jesuits are put to death here in England, it plainly appears, you have put them to death arbitrarily, without any law.’ Thus Broadstreet finding himself and his company ensnared by their own words, asked, ‘Are you come to catch us?’ But he told them, they had catched themselves, and they might justly be questioned for their lives; and if the father of William Robinson, (one of those that were put to death,) were in town, it was probable he would question them, and bring their lives into jeopardy: for he not being of the Quakers’ persuasion, would perhaps not have so much regard to the point of forbearance, as they had. Broadstreet seeing himself thus in danger, began to flinch and to sculk; for some of the old royalists were earnest with the Quakers to prosecute the New England persecutors. But G. Fox and his friends said, they left them to the Lord, to whom vengeance belonged, and he would repay it. Broadstreet however, not thinking it safe to stay in England, left the city, and with his companions went back again to New England.

Not long before this time, G. Fox, with the help of John Stubbs and Benjamin Furly, published a book called, ‘A Battledoor.’ In this book were set forth examples of about thirty languages, to show that every language had its particular denomination for the singular and the plural number, in speaking to persons; and in every place where the description began, the shape of a battledoor was delineated. This work was promoted to public view by G. Fox, to show the learned, (if possible to convince them,) that the custom of those called Quakers, to say Thou to a single person, though it were to the king, and not You, was not irregular nor absurd, but had been used anciently; and that therefore they could not justly be charged with unmannerliness, because they followed not the common custom, which was crept in by the pride of men. Now though Ger. Croese doth disapprove in G. Fox, that he put his name to this book as well as J. Stubbs and B. Furly, yet I do not think it so improper as the said author doth; for G. Fox was a great promoter of that work; and though he was not skilled in languages, and some were for calling him an idiot, or a fool, yet I know him to have been a man of good understanding, and of deep judgment. In his journal he freely owns, that John Stubbs and Benjamin Furly took great pains in the compiling of the said book, which he put them upon, and added also some things to it; so that in some respect he might be esteemed author too. At the end of the book he added:

This book, (in which J. Stubbs and B. Furly gave also directions for learners to read the Hebrew, Oriental, and other languages,) was liberally disposed of; some of them were presented to the king and his council, to the archbishop of Canterbury, and to the bishop of London, and also one to each university. The king confessed that the distinction between plural and singular, in regard of persons, was the proper language of all nations; and the archbishop being asked what he thought of it, was so at a stand, that he could not tell what to say to it; for it appears he would not commend it, neither could he resolve to disapprove it. Yet it did so inform and convince people, that many afterward were not near so much offended at saying Thou and Thee to a single person, as they were before.

Now many Papists and Jesuits began to fawn upon those called Quakers, and said publicly, that of all the sects the Quakers were the best, and most self-denying people; and that it was great pity that they did not return to the holy mother church: and though they might have been in hopes thereby to have gained proselytes from the Quakers, yet they were disappointed. In the meanwhile they did but ill service to the Quakers thereby; for this gave occasion to their enemies to divulge, that there was an affinity and collusion between the Quakers and the Papists. Some Jesuits signifying that they would willingly discourse with the Quakers, G. Fox consented to it, and in order thereunto, time and place were appointed: whereupon two of the loyalists came, being dressed like courtiers, and they asked the names of G. Fox and those with him. G. Fox then asked them the same question he had once before, as hath been said already, asked a Jesuit, viz. whether the church of Rome was not degenerated from the church in the primitive times; from the spirit, and power, and practice, that they were in, in the apostles’ time. The Jesuit to whom the question was put, said he would not answer it. G. Fox asked him, why? but he would give no reason. His companion then said they were not degenerated from the church in the primitive times. Then G. Fox asked the other, whether he was of the same mind; and he said, ‘Yes.’ G. Fox, to give no room to any excuses of a mistake, repeated his question thus: Whether the church of Rome now was in the same purity, practice, power, and spirit, that the church in the apostles’ time was in. The Jesuits seeing how exact G. Fox would be with them, said it was presumption in any to say, they had the same power and spirit, which the apostles had. But G. Fox, told them, it was presumption in them to meddle with the words of Christ and his apostles, and make people believe they succeeded the apostles, and yet be forced to confess, they were not in the same power and spirit, that the apostles were in. ‘This,’ said he, ‘is a spirit of presumption, and rebuked by the apostles’ spirit.’ Thereupon he showed them how different their fruits and practices were, from the fruits and practices of the apostles. This so displeased the Jesuits, that one of them said, ‘Ye are a company of dreamers.’ ‘Nay,’ said G. Fox, ‘ye are the dreamers, who dream ye are the apostles successors, and yet confess, ye have not the same power and spirit, which the apostles were in.’ Then he began to tell them also, how they were led by an evil spirit; and that this spirit had induced them to pray by beads, and to images, and to put people to death for religion. He spoke yet more; but the Jesuits soon grew weary of this discourse, and went away, giving charge afterwards to those of their persuasion, not to dispute with the Quakers, nor to read any of their books.

Sometime after G. Fox went to Colchester, where he had very large meetings. From thence he went to Coggeshall; not far from which there was a priest convinced of the truth of the doctrine held forth by him and his friends; and he had a meeting in his house. And after having visited his friends in their meetings thereabouts, he returned to London, where he found more work: for John Perrot, of whom mention hath been made already that he was at Rome, had so far complied with his vain imaginations, that he thought himself further enlightened than G. Fox, and his friends; and from this presumption he would not approve, that when any one prayed in the meeting, others should put off their hats, calling this a formality, and a common custom of the world, which ought to be departed from. And since novelties often draw people after them, so it was in this case, insomuch that he got a pretty many adherents. But he did not stand here; for as one error proceeds from another, so he made another extravagant step, and let his beard grow; in which he was followed by some. In the meanwhile G. Fox laboured both by word and writing, to stop his progress: and though most of his friends also bore testimony against it, yet there passed several years before this strange fire was altogether extinguished: to the quenching whereof, it contributed not a little that Perrot, who now walked in an erroneous path, grew worse from time to time, even to that degree, that being come into America, he fell into manifest sensualities, and works of the flesh: for he not only wore gaudy apparel, but also a sword; and being got into some place in the government, he became a severe exactor of oaths, whereas before he had professed that for conscience-sake he could not swear. Before I leave Perrot, I will insert here a letter wrote by him from Rome, when he was released from prison: and though I believe he was then in a better state than afterward, yet in that letter some sparks of spiritual pride may be seen, which though then under some limitation, yet in process of time so broke forth, that it caused his fall. The letter was thus:

He added not his sirname, in imitation, as it seems, of the apostle John. He omitted it likewise in another letter he wrote from the prison at Rome, which began thus:

Who were the two lambs he mentions in his letter, I cannot tell; whether they were persons that had been imprisoned with him in the inquisition jail, and converted by him, as he thought; or whether he meant John Stubbs and Samuel Fisher, I know not; it may rather be supposed that he meant Charles Bayley and Jane Stoakes, who went to Rome to procure his liberty: but J. Stubbs and S. Fisher came away long before; yet if I am not mistaken, it was about this time that these were at Rome, and they perhaps, having endeavoured to obtain his liberty, departed before him towards England.

When Perrot afterward lived in America, about the beginning of the year 1665, John Taylor wrote thus from Jamaica concerning him:

Such a one was John Perrot, though even some wise men admired him for a time; but he became a man of a rough behaviour. Whether he ever repented sincerely, I cannot tell. Robert Rich, who took too much part in the extravagancies of James Nayler, as hath been related, did also combine with Perrot, and became estranged from the Quakers, and in that condition he died: but he was of the number of those, of whom the apostle John said, “They went out from us, but they were not of us.”

Now since persecution continued in England, Edward Burrough, who continually was laborious with the pen to oppose this evil, wrote also a small book, which he called, ‘The Case of Free Liberty of Conscience in the Exercise of Faith and Religion, presented unto the King and both Houses of Parliament.’ In this treatise he showed, that to deprive honest and peaceable people of liberty of conscience in the exercise of worship to God, was unjust, an intrenching on God’s sovereignty, and an usurpation of his authority. He also recommended it to consideration, that to impose by force a religion upon men, was the way to fill the land with hypocrites. And he showed with sound reasons, that to persecute people for the exercise of religion and their worshipping of God, must unavoidably tend to destroy trading, husbandry, and merchandise. To which he added, that such as were called heretics were punished, as malefactors, whereas drunkards and other vicious persons were left unpunished; which to inculcate with more strength, he made use of the words of Dr. Taylor, a bishop in Ireland, who said thus: ‘Why are we so zealous against those we call heretics, and yet great friends with drunkards, and swearers, and fornicators, and intemperate and idle persons? I am certain a drunkard is as contrary to the laws of Christianity as an heretic: and I am also sure that I know what drunkenness is; but I am not so sure that such an opinion is heresy,’ &c.

It happened about this time in England that some covetous persons, to engross inheritances to themselves, would call the marriages of those called Quakers in question. And it was in this year that such a cause was tried at the assizes at Nottingham. A certain man dying, and leaving his wife with child, and an estate in copyhold lands: when the woman was delivered, one that was near of kin to her deceased husband, endeavoured to prove the child illegitimate: and the plaintiff’s counsel willing to blacken the Quakers, so called, asserted the child to be illegitimate, because the marriage of its parents was not according to law; and said bluntly, and very indecently, that the Quakers went together like brute beasts. After the counsel on both sides had pleaded, the judge whose name was Archer, opened the case to the jury, and told them, that there was a marriage in Paradise, when Adam took Eve, and Eve took Adam; and that it was the consent of the parties that made a marriage. And as for the Quakers, said he, he did not know their opinion; but he did not believe they went together as brute beasts, as had been said of them, but as Christians; and therefore he did believe the marriage was lawful, and the child lawful heir. And the better to satisfy the jury, he related to them this case: ‘A man that was weak of body, and kept his bed, had a desire in that condition to marry, and did declare before witnesses that he did take such a woman to be his wife; and the woman declared, that she took that man to be her husband. This marriage was afterwards called in question: but all the bishops did at that time conclude it to be a lawful marriage.’ The jury having received this instruction, gave in their verdict for the child, and declared it legitimate.

It hath been mentioned before, that G. Fox being prisoner at Derby, in the year 1650, was exceedingly vexed and ill treated by the keeper of the prison. But this man being struck with the terrors of the Lord, became such a notable convert, that in the year 1662, he wrote the following letter to G. Fox:

I have heretofore made some mention of the imprisonment of Catharine Evans, and Sarah Cheevers, by the inquisition at Malta. It was about this time that they were released: for G. Fox and Gilbert Latey, having understood that the lord d’Aubigny could procure their liberty, went to him, and having informed him concerning their imprisonment, desired him to write to those in authority at Malta for their release. This he promised to do, and told them if they would come again within a month, perhaps they might hear of their discharge. They went again to him about that time, but he said he thought his letters had miscarried; yet he promised he would write again, and so he did; which had such effect, that the said two women were discharged of their long imprisonment. G. Fox had now opportunity to reason with this lord, (who was a Roman Catholic priest in orders,) about religion, and he brought him to confess that Christ had enlightened every man that cometh into the world with his spiritual light; and that he had tasted death for every man; and that the grace of God, which brings salvation, hath appeared to all men; and that it would teach them, and bring their salvation if they did obey it. Then G. Fox asked him what the Romanists would do with all their relics and images, if they did own and believe in this light, and receive the grace to teach them, and bring their salvation? And he answered, those things were but policies to keep people in subjection.

But leaving these discourses, I will now give a clear and circumstantial relation of the imprisonment of the forementioned Catharine Evans, and Sarah Cheevers, chiefly collected from letters and papers, written by them in prison, and sent from thence to England, where they were published in print, not long after their return, in the year 1662.

In the year 1658, these women having drawings in their mind to travel towards Alexandria, went in a ship from England to Leghorn in Italy, and having been thirty-one days between Plymouth and Leghorn, they at length safely landed at that city: where they found some of their countrymen and friends, and stayed there several days, dispersing many books when occasion offered. They spoke also with people of various degrees, without being molested by any. From thence they got passage in a Dutch ship bound for Alexandria, or Scanderoon; but the master of the ship being in company with another ship going to Malta, went also thither, though he had no business in the place: but before they came there, Catharine fell into such an anguish of mind, that she cried out, ‘Oh! we have a dreadful cup to drink at that place!’ Being come into the harbour, and standing on the deck of the ship, and looking upon the people who stood on the walls, she said in her heart, ‘Shall ye destroy us? If we give up to the Lord, then he is sufficient to deliver us out of your hands: but if we disobey our God, all these could not deliver us out of his hand.’ And so all fear of man was taken from them.

The next day, being the First-day of the week, they went on shore, where the English consul met them, and asked them what they came there for; they answered what they thought convenient, and gave him some books. Then he told them there was an inquisition; and kindly inviting them to his house, said all that he had was at their service while they were there. They accepting of this invitation, went thither, and many came to see them, whom they called to repentance, so that several became tender. About night they went on ship-board, and the next day came again into the city, and going to the governor he told them he had a sister in the nunnery, who desired to see them. Thereupon they went to the nunnery, and talked with the nuns, and gave them books: and one of their priests, who brought them into the chapel, would have them bow to the high altar, but they refused, being grieved because of the idolatry committed there, and went to the consul’s again, where they staid some weeks. During that time they once went into one of the places of worship in the time of worship; and Catharine standing in the midst of the people, turned her back to the high altar, and kneeling down, she lifted up her voice in prayer to the Lord. The priest that officiated, put off his surplice, and kneeled near her till she had done. Then he reached forth his hand to them to come to him, and offered her a token, which she taking to be the mark of the beast, refused. Thereupon he put the piece into Sarah’s hand, but she gave it him again, and showed him her purse that she had to give, if any had need, and as yet was in no want. He then asked if they were Calvinists or Lutherans? And they answered, ‘Nay.’ He asked if they would go to Rome to the pope. They denying this, he asked if they were Catholics; to which they said they were true Christians, servants of the living God. But since they had yet learned but little of the language spoken there, they expressed themselves very defectively; what they did was partly in words and partly by signs, as well as they could: and many that came about them were amazed: however at last they departed peaceably. Some time after they went again to a mass-house, where the sacrament, as they call it, was administered: there were many lights, and great costliness and fineries; and being grieved because of their idolatry, they stood about three quarters of an hour, weeping and trembling, especially Catharine: and this so struck the congregation with amazement, that some removed further from them for fear. At length they both went out, but yet under such a trembling, that they went along the street reeling and staggering, so that they became a wonder to all that saw them.

They were about three months at the house of the English consul; and he, for that reason, being under a suspicion, did not what he might have done to save them; but in some respect he delivered them up to the inquisition, though by his oath he was obliged to protect the English there. In the meanwhile he kept them in his house, and suffered them not to go abroad, though the governor had told him he might let them go about their business; ‘For,’ said he, ‘they are honest women.’ The consul might also have let them go free, before they came under the power of the black rod. Now they perceiving that something to their prejudice was in agitation, and making account already that a prison would be their lot, they signified that they suspected him, and told him that Pilate would do the Jews a service, and yet wash his hands in innocency. He being at a loss, required a sign of them, if they were the messengers of God. And they gave him to understand, that this might serve for a sign: that it would be well with them; but that it should not go off well with him.

Afterwards it happened that they were sent for by the inquisition: and that day the consul’s wife brought them some victuals; but as she passed by, Catharine was smitten, as with an arrow, to the heart, and she seemed to hear a voice, saying, ‘She hath obtained her purpose.’ Then Catharine would not taste of the meat, but went aside, and wept exceedingly. The consul having called her, told her, the inquisition had sent for them, having received letters from Rome, but that he did hope they should be set free; which however was not true, for he knew, (as they understood afterwards,) there was a room prepared for them in the prison of the inquisition. Neither was it long ere there came the chancellor, the consul, and one with the black rod, who brought them before the lord inquisitor; and he asked them whether they had changed their minds; for it seems that had been required of them before. But they answered, ‘No,’ and that they should not change from the Truth. Then he asked what new light it was they talked of; they answered it was no new light, but the same the prophets and apostles bore testimony to. Next he asked how this light came to be lost since the primitive times; they replied, it was not lost; men had it still in them, but they did not know it, by reason that the night of apostacy had overspread the nations. Then he said, if they would change their minds, and do as they would have them, they should say so, or else they would use them as they pleased. But they, signifying that they would not change, said, ‘The will of the Lord be done.’ He then arose, and went away with the consul, leaving them there: and the man with the black rod, and the keeper, took and put them into an inner room in the inquisition, which had only two little holes in it for light and air. This place was so exceeding hot, that it seemed as if their intent was to stifle them, as we may see in the sequel.

Not long after they were brought before the inquisitors to be further examined, and they not only asked their names, but also the names of their husbands and parents, and what children they had, and also why they came thither? To which they answered, they were servants of the living God, come there to call them to repentance. The next day they were called again, but then examined asunder; and Sarah being asked whether she was a true Catholic, said, that she was a true Christian, worshipping God in Spirit and in Truth. Then they held forth a crucifix to her, and would have her swear that she should speak the truth. To which she said, she should speak the truth, but she would not swear; for Christ had commanded, “Swear not at all.” The English consul who was present, endeavoured to persuade her to swear, and said that none should do her any harm. She having some books with her, they were taken from her; and they asked her, wherefore she brought those books; to which she answered, because they could not speak their language. Then they asked her, what George Fox was? She answered, ‘A minister.’ Further they asked, wherefore she came thither? And she replied, to do the will of God as she was moved of the Lord. The next question was, how the Lord did appear unto her: to which she answered, ‘By his Spirit.’ And being asked whether she did see his presence, and hear his voice, her answer was, she heard his voice, and saw his presence. They then asked what he said to her? She answered, that he required of her to go over the seas to do his will. This made them ask how she knew it was the Lord who required this of her? To which she answered, that since he had signified to her, that his living presence should go along with her, she found him to perform his promise, for she did feel his living presence. After this they went away.

Two days after the inquisitors came and called for Catharine, and offering her the crucifix, they told her, the magistrates commanded her to swear, that she should speak the truth. To which she said, that she should speak the truth, for she was a witness for God; but she should not swear, since a greater than the magistrates said, “Swear not at all; but let your yea, be yea, and your nay, nay; for whatsoever is more, cometh of evil.” Then said they, ‘You must obey the justice; and he commands you to swear.’ She returned, ‘I shall obey justice, but if I should swear, I should do an unjust thing; for the just, (Christ,) said, “Swear not at all.”’ Then they asked her whether she did own that Christ that died at Jerusalem? She answered, ‘We own the same Christ and no other; he is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.’ Next they asked her, what she would do at Jerusalem: she answered, she did not know that she should go thither; but she intended to have gone to Alexandria. They asked what to do: her answer was, ‘The will of God: and, (said she,) if the Lord opened my mouth, I should call people to repentance, and declare to them the day of the Lord, and direct their minds from darkness to light.’ They asked her also, whether she did see the Lord: she answered, God was a spirit, and he was spiritually discerned.

Now, though from the answers of these women little could be got to blame them, yet they were kept close prisoners, which seemed to grieve the English consul, for he came to them with tears in his eyes, and said he was sorry as for his own flesh; for it seems he had received something for delivering them up, which he would willingly have given back, if thereby he could have obtained their liberty: but a slavish fear possessed him, and he never had peace while he lived. Some days after this came a magistrate, two friars, the man with the black rod, a scribe, and the keeper of the inquisition to examine them; and they were again required to swear: but they answered as before, that Christ said, “Swear not at all;” and that the apostle James gave the same charge. Hereupon the magistrate asked if they would speak truth: and they said, ‘Yes.’ He then asked whether they believed the creed; to which they said, they did believe in God, and in Jesus Christ, who was born of the Virgin Mary, and suffered at Jerusalem under Pontius Pilate, and arose again from the dead the third day, and ascended to his Father, and shall come to judgment, to judge both quick and dead. He further asked, how they did believe the resurrection: and they answered, that they believed that the just and the unjust should arise according to the Scriptures. Next he said, ‘Do you believe in the saints, and pray to them?’ To which the answer was,‘We believe the communion of saints, but we do not pray to them, but to God only, in the name of Jesus.’ His next question was, whether they did believe in the Catholic church: and they answered, they did believe the true church of Christ, ‘but the word Catholic, said they, we have not read in Scripture.’ He also asked if they believed in purgatory: to which they said, ‘No; but a heaven and a hell.’ Then one of the friars, who was an Englishman, said, we were commanded to pray for the dead; for, those that are in heaven have no need; and for those that are in hell, there is no redemption; therefore there must be a purgatory: and he asked if they believed the holy sacrament; to which their answer was, they never read the word sacrament in Scripture. The friar replied,‘Where you read in your bibles sanctification, it is sacrament in ours.’ And he said, their holy sacrament was bread and wine, which they converted into the flesh and blood of Christ, by the virtue of Christ. ‘Then,’ said the women, ‘ye work miracles, for Christ’s virtue is the same as it was when he turned water into wine, at the marriage in Cana.’ The friar said, ‘If we do not eat the flesh, and drink the blood of the Son of God, we have no life in us.’ They replied, ‘The flesh and blood of Christ is spiritual, and we do feed upon it daily; for that which is begotten of God in us, can no more live without spiritual food, than our temporal bodies can without temporal food.’ Then he said, ‘You never hear mass.’ ‘But we,’ said they, ‘hear the voice of Christ; he only hath the words of eternal life; and that is sufficient for us.’ He said, ‘Ye are heretics and heathens;’ to which they replied, ‘They are heretics that live in sin and wickedness, and such are heathens that know not God.’

Then it was asked them who was the head of their church: they told him, ‘Christ.’ It was further asked what George Fox was: and they said, ‘He is a minister of Christ.’ And it being asked whether he sent them, their answer was, ‘No: the Lord did move us to come.’ Then the friar said, ‘Ye are deceived, and have not the faith; though ye had all virtues.’ And they replied, ‘Faith is the ground from whence virtues proceed.’ Hereupon it was told them, if they would take the holy sacrament they might have their liberty; or else the pope would not leave them for millions of gold; but they should lose their souls and bodies too. To this they said, ‘The Lord hath provided for our souls, and our bodies are freely given up to serve him.’ Then it was asked them if they did not believe marriage was a sacrament: and they answered, it was an ordinance of God. It was further asked if they did believe men could forgive sins: and their answer was, that none could forgive sins but God only. After some other words to and fro, the women asked, ‘Wherein have we wronged you, that we should be kept prisoners all the days of our life? Our innocent blood will be required at your hands.’ The friar said he would take their blood upon him. They replied, the time would come he should find he had enough upon him without it. Then it was told them the pope was Christ’s vicar, and what he did was for the good of their souls. To which they answered, ‘The Lord hath not committed the charge of our souls to the pope, nor to you neither; for he hath taken them into his own possession: glory be to his name for ever.’ Then it was said unto them they must be obedient. And they returned, they were obedient to the government of Christ’s Spirit or light. The friar said, ‘None have the true light but the Catholics; the light that you have is the spirit of the devil.’ ‘Wo, (said they,) to him that curseth Jesus; can the devil give power over sin and iniquity? That would destroy his own kingdom.’ ‘You,’ replied the friar, ‘are laughed at and mocked of every one.’ ‘But,’ said they, ‘what will become of the mockers?’ ‘It was no matter,’ he said: ‘you run about to preach, and have not the true faith.’ They returned, ‘The true faith is held in a pure conscience, void of offence towards God and men. Every one hath the true faith, that believeth in God, and in Jesus Christ whom he hath sent: but they that say they do believe, and do not keep his commandments, are liars, and the truth is not in them.’ The friar confessed this to be true, though he was continually very troublesome to them with threats, to make them turn; and to this end they were locked up in a room, so exceeding hot, that it was said it was impossible they could live long in it. They were also so exceedingly stung by gnats, when they lay in bed, that their faces became swoln, as if they had been sick of the small-pox, so that many began to be afraid of them; and the friar said to Sarah, he spied an evil spirit in her face.

At another time being examined, they were asked, how many of their friends were gone forth into the ministry, and into what parts: they answering to that query what they knew, it was told them, all that came where the pope had any thing to do, should never go back again. But they said, the Lord was as sufficient for them, as he was for the children in the fiery furnace, and their trust was in God. Catharine being sickly, was asked why she looked so; whether her spirit was weak: she answered, ‘Nay: my body is weak, because I eat no meat.’ The friar hearing this, offered her a license to eat flesh; for it was in their Lent. But she refused this, and said, she could not eat any thing at all. And going afterwards to bed, she lay there night and day for twelve days together, fasting and sweating, for she was in much affliction, and great was her agony.

After having lain ten days, there came to her two friars, the chancellor, the man with the black rod, a physician, and the keeper. One of the friars commanded Sarah to go out of the room, and then pulled Catharine’s hand out of the bed, and said, ‘Is the devil so great in you, that you cannot speak?’ To which she said, ‘Depart from me thou worker of iniquity: the power of the Lord is upon me, and dost thou call him devil?’ Hereupon he took his crucifix to strike her on the mouth; and she asked him whether it were that cross that crucified Paul to the world, and the world unto him. This ignorant monk said it was. But she denied it, and said, ‘The Lord hath made me a witness for himself, against all workers of iniquity.’ He then bade her be obedient, and went to strike her; at which she said, ‘Wilt thou strike me?’ And he saying he would, she further said, ‘Thou art out of the apostles’ doctrine, for they were no strikers. I deny thee to be any of them who went in the name of the Lord.’ To which he said, he had brought her a physician in charity: and she returned, ‘The Lord is my physician, and my saving health.’ The monk growing angry, said she should be whipped and quartered, and burnt that night at Malta, and her mate too. But she told him modestly, she did not fear; the Lord was on her side; and he had no power but what he had received; and if he did not use it to the same end the Lord gave it him, the Lord would judge him. At these words they were all struck dumb, and went away. Then the friar went to Sarah, and told her that Catharine called him worker of iniquity. ‘Did she,’ said Sarah, ‘art thou without sin?’ To which he said he was. ‘Then,’ replied Sarah, ‘she hath wronged thee.’

Late in the evening, something was proclaimed at the prison gate, by beating of a drum, and early in the morning some came again with a drum, and guns. It seems to me that this was done on purpose to frighten these poor women, and to make them believe that they should be put to death; for indeed they looked for little else, having for several weeks expected that they should be led to the stake: but they were fully resigned, and given up to what the Lord might be pleased to permit. In the meanwhile Catharine continuing sickly, the friar came again with the physician. But she told him, she could not take any thing, unless she felt freedom. He then said, they must never come forth of that room while they lived: and pretending to be kind to them, he further said, ‘You may thank God and me, that it is no worse; for it was like to be worse.’ Thereupon they said, that if they had died, they had died as innocent as ever any servants of the Lord. He then said, it was well they were innocent; and turning to Sarah, bade her take notice what torment Catharine should be in at the hour of death; saying, thousands of devils would fetch her soul to hell. But Sarah told him, she did not fear any such thing. He then asked Catharine if she did not think it expedient for the elders of the church to pray over the sick. And she said, ‘Yea, such as are moved of the Spirit of the Lord.’ He then fell down on his knees, and did howl, and wish bitter wishes upon himself, if he had not the true faith. The physician in the meanwhile was enraged, because she did not bow to him.

Now whilst Catharine was sick, Sarah was not without great affliction: for it grieved her to see her dear companion so ill; and she easily foresaw, that if Catharine died, her own sufferings would be heavier. But yet she was given up to the will of the Lord, and would not in the least grudge at Catharine’s eternal rest. But in time Catharine began to mend, and grow hungry; and eating, she was refreshed. But the room wherein they were locked was so excessively hot, that they were often fain to rise out of their bed, and lie down at the chink of the door for air to fetch breath; and this heat was the greater, because it came not only from without, but within also: which so affected them that their skin was parched, the hair fell off their heads, and they fainted often; and their afflictions were so great, that when it was day they wished for night, and when it was night, they wished for day; yea, through human weakness, they desired death, eating their bread weeping, and mingling their drink with tears. Once Catharine asked the monks, who came to her with a physician, and said it was in charity, whether they did not keep them in that hot room to kill them, and bring a physician, to keep them longer alive? To this the friar said, the inquisitor would lose his head if he should take them thence; and it was better to keep them there, than to kill them. Then they wrote to the inquisitor, and laid their innocency before him; and said also, if it were their blood they thirsted after, they might take it any other way, as well as to smother them in that hot room. But this so incensed him, that he sent the friar to them, who took away their ink-horns, their bibles being taken from them before. They asked them, why their goods were taken away: to which it was answered, ‘All is ours; and your lives too, if we will.’ Then they asked, how they had forfeited their lives: to which it was told them, ‘For bringing books and papers.’ They replied, if there were any thing in them that was not true, they might write against it. To this the monk said, they scorned to write to fools and asses, that did not know true Latin. And it was further told them, the inquisitor would have them separated, because Catharine was weak, and she should go into a cooler room; but Sarah should abide there. Then Catharine took Sarah by the arm, and said, ‘The Lord hath joined us together, and wo be to them that part us. I had rather die here with my friend, than part from her.’ This so struck the friar, that he went away, and came no more in five weeks, and the door of their room was not opened in all that time.

Then the monks came again to part them, but Catharine was sick, and broken out from head to foot. They thereupon sent for a doctor, and he said, they must have air, or else they must die. This was told the inquisitor, and he ordered the door to be set open six hours in a day. But ten weeks after they were parted; which was such a grievous affliction, that they declared death itself would not have been so hard to them. But the monks said they corrupted each other, and that being parted, they would bow and submit. But they saw themselves disappointed; for the women were stronger afterwards than before, the Lord fitting them for every condition. Before they were parted, the friars brought them a scourge of small hempen cords, asking them if they would have it; and saying they were used to whip themselves till the blood came. But the women said, that could not reach the devil, he sat upon the heart. Then the monks said, ‘All the people of Malta are for you; if ye will be Catholics, none but will like you.’ To which they returned, ‘The Lord hath changed us into that which changeth not.’ The monks then said, ‘All our holy women do pray for you: and ye shall be honoured of all the world, if ye will turn.’ They replied, ‘The world lies in wickedness; and the honour and glory of the world we have denied.’ To this the monks said, ‘Ye shall be honoured of God too; but now ye are hated of all.’ ‘This,’ said one of the women, ‘is an evident token whose servants we are. The servant is not greater than his Lord.’

Once, on a First-day of the week, the friars came, and commanded them to kneel down with them to prayer. They signified they could pray but as they were moved by the Lord. Then the friars commanded them the second time, and kneeled down by their bed-side, and prayed after their manner; which being done, they said to the women, ‘We have tried your spirits; now we know what spirit ye are of.’ But they told them they could not know that, unless their minds were turned to the light of Christ in their consciences. The English friar then growing angry, showed them his crucifix, and bade them look on it. But they told him, the Lord saith, “Thou shalt not make to thyself the likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or in the earth beneath, or in the water under the earth; thou shalt not bow down to them, nor worship them; but I the Lord thy God am a jealous God.” The friar seeing Sarah speak so boldly to him, called for the irons to chain her. She then bowed her head, and said to him, ‘Not only my hands and feet, but my neck also for the testimony of Jesus.’ The friar seeming appeased, said he would do them any good he could; for he saw what they did was not in malice. And the friars came often, and said to them, ‘If ye would do but a little ye should be set at liberty; but you will do nothing at all, but are against every thing.’ To which they returned, that they would do any thing that might tend to God’s glory.

While they were imprisoned here, it happened that the inquisition house was new built or repaired, which took up about the space of a year and an half; and during this time, some of the great ones came often to see the building, which gave opportunity to these women to speak to them, and to declare the Truth in the name of the Lord.

Now, though they were threatened by the monks for preaching the light of Christ so boldly, yet not only the magistrates, but the lord inquisitor grew moderate towards them, and gave order they should have pens, ink, and paper, to write to England. And they seemed inclined to have them set at liberty; but the friars worked mightily against it; and had laboured about three quarters of a year to part them, before they could bring it to pass. And when at length they had effected it, they told Catharine that they should never see one another’s faces again.

In the meanwhile Catharine being sickly, had little stomach to eat, and had no mind to eat any thing but what came from Sarah to her. And having told one of the friars that she wanted somebody to wash her linen, and to prepare some warm victuals for her, he sent to Sarah to know if she would do it for her; and she said she would. And by that means they for some weeks heard of one another every day; and the friar said once to Catharine, ‘You may free yourself of misery when you will; you may make yourself a Catholic, and have your freedom to go where you will:’ to which she told him, ‘Thus I might have a name that I did live when I was dead: thou hast Catholics enough already. Endeavour to bring some of them to the light in their consciences, that they may stand in awe and sin not.’ But he was so eager, that he said he would lose one of his fingers if she and Sarah would be Catholics. Then she told him that it was Babylon that was built with blood, but Sion was redeemed through judgment.

Many ways were used to draw them off; and once they would have persuaded her to set a picture at her bed’s head, for a representation: but she said, as with abhorrence, ‘What, do ye think I want a calf to worship? Do ye walk by the rule of Scriptures?’ To which the friar said, ‘We do; but we have traditions too.’ She replied, ‘If your traditions derogate or dissent, from the fundamentals of Christ’s doctrine, the prophets, and apostles, I deny them in the name of the Lord.’ But he asserted that they did not. Then she asked what rule they had to burn those that could not join with them for conscience-sake: and he returned, ‘St. Paul did worse, for he gave them to the devil:’ and further said, that they did judge all damned that were not of their faith. Then she objected to him several of the superstitious rites of the church of Rome, and mentioned also the forbidding of marriage, which, said she is a doctrine of devils, according to the saying of the apostle. The friar being put to a nonplus, told her that St. Peter was the pope of Rome, and did build an altar there, and the pope was his successor, and he could do what he would. But she refuted this with sound reason. He then boasting of the antiquity of their church, she signified that the church she was of was yet older; ‘For,’ said she, ‘our faith was from the beginning; and Abel was of our church.’ The friar being at a loss, and no longer able to hold out against Catharine, went to Sarah, and talked with her at the same rate; and she also told him Abel was of our church: to which he said, ‘Abel was a Catholic;’ and quite overshooting himself, he said likewise, ‘And Cain and Judas were so.’ To which Sarah returned, ‘Then the devil was a Catholic; and I will not be one: I will not turn; though ye would tear me to pieces, I believe the Lord would enable me to endure it.’

At another time the said friar, whose name was Malachy, came again to Catharine, and told her if she would be a Catholic, she should say so; otherwise they would use her badly, and she should never see the face of Sarah again, but should die by herself, and a thousand devils should carry her soul to hell. She then asked him if he were the messenger of God to her: and he said ‘Yes.’ ‘Why, what is my sin,’ said she, ‘or wherein have I provoked the Lord, that he doth send me such a message?’ ‘It is,’ returned the monk, ‘because you will not be a Catholic.’ Whereupon she said, ‘I deny thee and the message too, and the spirit which speaks in thee; for the Lord never spoke so.’ He growing angry, said that he would lay her in a whole pile of chains, where she should see neither sun nor moon. She intimating how resigned she was, said he could not separate her from the love of God in Christ Jesus, lay her wherever he would. And he further saying he would give her to the devil, she resumed, ‘I do not fear all the devils in hell; the Lord is my keeper. Though thou hadst the inquisition, with all the countries round about it on thy side, and I was alone by myself, I do not fear them; if they were thousands more, the Lord is on my right hand; and the worst they can do, is but to kill the body, they can touch my life no more than the devil could Job’s.’ Then the monk said she should never go out of the room alive. To which she courageously said, ‘The Lord is sufficient to deliver me; but whether he will or no, I will not forsake the living fountain, to drink at a broken cistern. And ye have no law to keep us here, but such a law as Ahab had for Naboth’s vineyard.’ The monk then cursing himself, and calling upon his gods, ran away; and as he was pulling the door, he said, ‘Abide there, member of the devil.’ To which she said, ‘The devil’s members do the devil’s works; and the woes and plagues of the Lord will be upon them for it.’

He then went and told the inquisitor of it, who laughed at him; and before he came again, Catharine was moved out of that room: when he came he brought one of the inquisitor’s men with him, and two very good hens, and said, the lord inquisitor had sent them in love to her. To which she said, she received his love, but yet she showed herself not very ready to accept them; and signified that she was willing to pay for them, being loath to be chargeable to any, whilst she had of her own. The friar, who it seems would have had them lay down their money at his feet, said they must not count any thing their own, for in the primitive times they sold their possessions, and laid them down at the apostles’ feet. He further said, ‘You shall not want any thing, though we should spend a thousand crowns. But you are proud, because you will not take the inquisitor’s hens which he sent you in charity.’ She then asking what kind of charity this was, since he kept her in prison; the friar said, it was for the good of their souls he kept them in prison; further adding, ‘If you had not been going to preach, ye might have gone where ye would.’ She returned, ‘Our souls are out of the inquisitor’s reach. Why should your love extend more to us than to your own family: for they commit all manner of sin, which you cannot charge us with. Why do not ye put them into the inquisition, and bid them turn?’ He then said, ‘You have not the true faith;’ and showing her his crucifix, asked her, if she thought he did worship that: and she asked him, what then did he with it: to which he answered, it was a representation. And she replied, it did not represent Christ, for he was the express image of his Father’s glory, which is light and life. ‘But,’ continued she, ‘if thou canst put any life in any of thy images, then bring them to me. What representation had Daniel in the lion’s den, or Jonah in the whale’s belly? They cried unto the Lord, and he delivered them.’ The friar, who could not abide to hear her speak so much against idols, said she talked like a mad woman, adding, ‘I will give you to the devil.’ She not fearing this, said, ‘Give thy own, I am the Lord’s.’ He then stood up, and said, ‘I will do to you as the apostles did to Ananias and Sapphira.’ She then standing up also, said, ‘I deny thee in the name of the Lord, the living God, thou hast no power over me.’ Then away he went with the hens to Sarah, and told her that Catharine was sick, and the lord inquisitor had sent two hens, and she would be glad to eat a piece of one, if she would dress one of them presently, and the other to-morrow. Sarah no less circumspect and cautious than Catharine, and unwilling to receive this gift before she knew what might be expedient, answered him accordingly as Catharine did. Then he carried the hens away again, saying, ‘You would fain be burnt, because you would make the world believe, you love God so well as to suffer in that kind.’ Catharine hearing this, said, ‘I do not desire to be burnt; but if the Lord should call me to it, I believe he will give me power to undergo it for his Truth; and if every hair of my head was a body, I could offer them up all for the testimony of Jesus.’

The friar coming afterwards, again asked Catharine whether she had not been inspired of the Holy Ghost to be a Catholic, since she came into the inquisition: she said, ‘No:’ but he maintaining the contrary, said, ‘You are those who call the Spirit of the Holy Ghost the Spirit of the devil.’ ‘No:’ replied they, (who though they were parted could hear one another,) ‘the Spirit of the Holy Ghost in us will resist the devil; and the inspiration of the Holy Ghost is not wrought in the will of man, nor in man’s time; but in God’s will and time.’ More discourse they had about this matter, and then asking for their bibles, which had been taken from them, he said they should never see them again, for they were false.

Thus they were often troubled and importuned by the friars, who generally came two at a time, though sometimes but one. One of these often lifted up his hand to strike them, but did not: for they not being moved by fear, he was put out of countenance, and would say they were good women, and he would do them any good. As indeed sometimes he did work for them, and would say it was for God’s sake, and that they ought to thank him for it; to which they replied, those that did any thing for God, did not look for a reward from man; which once made him so angry, that he said they were the worst of all creatures, and that they should be used worse than the Turks, Armenians, and Lutherans. Whereupon one of them said, ‘The pure life was ever counted the worst; and if we suffer, we are the Lord’s, and can trust him. Do what ye will with us, we do not fear any evil tidings: we are settled and grounded in Truth; and the more ye persecute us, the stronger we grow.’ For this they experienced indeed, according to what they signified in their letters, though they were separated a year from each other. The friars coming once to Sarah, told her if she would she might go out of the prison, and say and do nothing. And she saying she would on that account, they said they would come next morning. But Sarah perceived their deceit, and therefore when they came, she, to avoid the snare, could not resolve to go forth, though the friars behaved themselves friendly, and told her that the inquisitor had said, if they wanted linen, woollen, stockings, shoes, or money, they should have it.

Once it happened that an Englishman who lived there, having heard that Sarah was in a room with a window next the street, got up by the wall, and spoke a few words to her; but he was violently hauled down, and cast into prison upon life and death; for he was one they had taken from the Turks, and made a Papist of him. The friars coming to them to know whether he had brought them any letters, they said ‘No.’ Neither had Catharine seen him; yet it was told them, he was like to be hanged. Of this Sarah gave information to Catharine, by writing a few lines to her, (for it seems they then could not hear one another,) and she told her, she thought the English friars were the chief actors of this business. This grieved Catharine, and she wrote to Sarah again, (for they had a private way to send to each other.) In this letter, after her salutation, she said to Sarah, that she might be sure the friars were the chief actors; but that she believed the Lord would preserve that poor Englishman for his love, and that she was made to seek the Lord for him with tears; and that she desired her to send him something once a day, if the keeper would carry it; that she herself was ravished with the love of God to her soul, and her beloved was the chiefest of ten thousands; and that she did not fear the face of any man, though she felt their arrows: moreover that she had a prospect of their safe return into England. And in the conclusion, she bade Sarah take heed, if she was tempted with money. But this letter, (by what means they never knew,) came to the English friar’s hands, who translating it into Italian, delivered it to the lord inquisitor; and afterwards came with the inquisitor’s deputy to Catharine, and showed her both the papers, and asked her if she could read it: viz. the English one: ‘Yea,’ said she, ‘I wrote it.’ ‘O, did you indeed?’ said he. ‘And what is it you say of me here?’ ‘Nothing but what is true,’ replied she. Then he said, ‘Where is the paper Sarah sent? Give it, or else I will search your trunk, and every where else.’ She then bidding him search where he would, he said, she must tell him who it was that brought her ink, or else she should be tied with chains presently. And she returned she had done nothing but what was just and right in the sight of God; and what she did suffer on that account would be for Truth’s sake. And she would not meddle with the poor workmen. Then he said, ‘For God’s sake tell me what Sarah did write.’ And she told him something, and said, what she spoke was truth. ‘But,’ returned he, ‘you say it is much we do not tempt you with money.’ And this indeed happened afterwards. The deputy then took Catharine’s ink, and threw it away; and so they went also; and the poor Englishman was released the next morning. They now coming to Sarah, told her that Catharine honestly had confessed all, and that she had best to confess too: and they threatened her with a halter, and that they would take away her bed and trunk, and her money too: to which Sarah said, it may be she might not send to Catharine any more: and she asked the deputy, whether he was a minister of Christ, or a magistrate; if he were a magistrate, said she, he might take her money, but she would not give it him. He then growing angry, said she was possessed; to which she replied, if so, then it was with the power of an endless life.

Thus from time to time they suffered many assaults; and sometimes it so happened that those who came to see them, were struck to the heart, which offended the friars. Now at length their money was almost gone, they having sometimes employed it for victuals. But the friars told them they might have kept their money for other services; for they should have maintained them whilst they kept them prisoners. To this they said they could not keep their money and be chargeable to others. Then it so fell out that their stomachs were taken away, and they did eat but little for three or four weeks, till at length they found themselves obliged to fasting for several days together: which made the friars say, that it was impossible that people could live with so little meat as they did. And it was told them the lord inquisitor had said, they might have any thing they would. To which they signifying that it was not in their own will they fasted, said they must wait to know the mind of the Lord, what he would have them to do. They continued weak, especially Sarah, who apprehending her death near, did therefore dress her head as she would lie in the grave. They both were so feeble that they could not put on their clothes, neither put them off, being also unable to make their beds. And though they desired to be together in one room, yet the friars would not permit it. In this condition they concluded they were like to die; but heaven had provided otherwise.