No More Learning

Mr. Cornish was seized in October, 1685, and the Monday after his Commitment, which was on Tuesday or Friday, Ar raigned for High Treason, having no Notice given him till Saturday noon. His Charge was for Conspiring to kill the King, and promising to assist the Duke of Monmouth, &°c, in their Treasonable Enterprises. He desired his Trial might be deferred, because of his short Time for Preparation ; and that he had a considerable Witness an Hundred and Forty Miles off, and that the King had left it to the Judges, whether it should be put off or no. But 'twas denied him; the Attorney telling him, He had not deserved so well ofthe Government as to have his Trial delayed. That was in English, because he had been a Protestant Sheriff, he should not have Justice.
The Evidences against him were Rumsey and Goodenough. Rumsey swears, [That when he was at the famous Meeting at Mr. Shepherd's, Mr. Shepherd being called down, brought up Mr. Cornish ; and when he was come in, Ferguson opened his Bosom, and under his Stomacher pulled out a Paper in the Nature of a Declaration of Grievances, which Ferguson read, and Shepherd held the Candle while 'twas reading; that Mr. Cornish liked it, and what Interest he had, said, would join with it; and that out of Compassion he had not accused Mr.
Cornish before^
Goodenough swears, That he talkt with Cornish ofthe Design
of seizing the Tower. Mr. Cornish said, He would do what good he could, or to that purpose.
To Goodenough' s Evidence was opposed Mr. Gospright's, who testified Mr. Cornish opposed his being Under-Sheriff, saying,
That he was an ill Man, obnoxious to the Government, and he'd not trust an Hair of his Head with him. And is it then
92 Cfje flfllesftern S^artprologp
probable that he'd have such Discourses with him as would endanger Head and all ? Mr. Love, Jekil, and Sir William
Turner, witness to the same Purpose.
As to Rumsey's Evidence, the Perjury lyes so full and staring,
that 'tis impossible to look into the Trial with half an Eye with out meeting it. Compare what he says on Russel's Trial, and here, and this will be as visible as the Sun. Being askt there,
Whether there was any Discourse about a Declaration, and how long he staid; he says, [He was there about a Quarter of an Hour, and that he was not certain whether he heard something about a Declaration there, or whether he had heard Ferguson report afterwards, that they had then debated it. ] Now turn to Cornish's Trial, he is there strangely recovered in his Memory, and having had the Advantage, either of Recollection, or better Instruction, remembers that distinctly in October 1685, which he could not in July 1683. {He had been there a Quarter of an Hour] the Time he states in the Lord Russel's Trial, but lengthens it out, and improves it now, to so long Time as Mr. Shepherd's going down, bringing Cornish up, Ferguson's pulling out the Declaration, and reading and that, as Shepherd said in Russel's Trial, a long one too, as certainly must be, as 'twas sworn, contained all the Grievances of the Nation, and
yet all this still in a Quarter of an Hour; thus contradicting _ himself both to Time and Matter.
But he of such Villanous Credit, that his Evidence scarce fit to be taken even against himself. Let's see then how Shep herd does Point-blank contradict, and absolutely overthrow in every Particular, as expressly as 'tis possible to ruin any Evi dence. He says, [At one Meeting only Mr. Cornish was at his House to speak with one of the Persons there; that then he him self came upstairs, and went out again with Mr. Cornish.
That there was not one Word read, nor any paper seen while Mr. Cornish was there, and this he was positive of, for Mr. Cornish was not one of their Company. ]
Now who should know best, Rumsey what Shepherd did, or he what he did himself? Could a Man hold the Candle while Declaration was read, as Rumsey swears Shepherd did, and yet know nothing of nay, protest the quite contrary What Sizes the Consciences of his Jury were, let any Christian, Turk,
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or Jew, be Judge ; and Providence has already visibly done it on the Foreman of who came to an untimely End, being beaten to Pieces by the Fall of some Timber at a Fire in
Thames-street.
All that pretended to bolster Rumsey's Evidence, and hinder
Shepherd'shomsavingihe Prisoner, was, That Shepherd strength-' ened Rumsey, and proved Cornish guilty of a Lie. But we enquire into the Matter, we shall find one just as true as the other.
Cornish on his Trial said to have denied his being at the Meeting, and discoursing with the Duke of Monmouth. Which they'd have us believe Shepherd swears he was, tho' not a Syllable of appears. [He had been there several Times, Shep
herd, says, but was not of their Consult, knew nothing of their Business, nor can he be positive whether 'twas the Duke of Monmouth he came to speak with that Evening. ] But sup posing in two or three Years Time, and on so little Recollection,
Cornish's Memory had slipt in that Circumstance, what's that to Shepherd's Evidence against the very Root of Rumsey which hang'd the Prisoner
In Spight of all he was found Guilty, and Condemned, and even that Christian Serenity of Mind and Countenance, where with 'twas visible he bore his Sentence, turned to his Reproach by the Bench.
He continued in the same excellent Temper whilst in Newgate, and gave the World glaring Instance of the Happiness of such Persons as live a Pious Life, when they come to make an End on't, let the Way thereof be never so violent. His Carriage and Behaviour at his leaving Newgate was as follows.
Some Passages Henry Cornish, Esq, before his Sufferings.
Coming into the Press-yard, and feeling the Halter in the Officer's Hand, he said, Is this for me The Officer answered, Yes he replied, Blessed be God, and kissed and after said,
blessed be Godfor Newgate, have enjoyed God ever since came within these Walls, and blessed be God who hath made me fit to die. am now going to that God that will not be mocked,
to that God that will not be imposed upon, to that God that
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knows the Innocency of his poor Creature. And a little after he said, Never did any poor Creature come unto God with greater confidence in his Mercy, and Assurance of Acceptation with him, through Jesus Christ, than Ido; but it is through Jesus Christ, for there is no other Way of coming to God but by him, to find Acceptance with him : There is no other Name given under Heaven whereby we can be saved, but the Name of Jesus. Then speaking to the Officers, he said, Labour every one ofyou to be fit to die, for Itell you, you are notfit to die : Iwas not fit to die myself before I came hither; but 0 blessed be God, he hath made me fit to die, and hath made me willing to die ! In a few
I
shall have the Fruition
Moments
that not for a Day, but for ever. of
I
God the Son, and of God the Holy Spirit, and of all the Holy
God, where
shall enjoy the Presence God the Father, and of
of
I
of
the Blessed Jesus, and am going to the Kingdom
Angels; 1 am going to the general Assembly of the First-born, and of the Spirits of Just Men made perfect : O that God should ever do so much for me I O that God should concern himself so much for poor Creatures, for their Salvation, blessed be his Name ! For this was the Design of God from all Eternity, to give his only Son to dieforpoor miserable Sinners. I Then the Officers going to tie his Hands, he said, What, must
be tied then ? Well, a Brown TI
ITurn; you nI thank God
hred might have served the
Fellow-Prisoners here ;
shall not stir
am not to die. As he was going out, he
eed not tie me at all,
from you, for
afraid Newgate; farewel
all
Farewel,
the Lord comfort you, the Lord be with you all.
said,
my
Thus much for his Behaviour in the Way to his Martyrdom. The Place of it was most spitefully and ignominiously ordered, almost before his own Door, and near Guildhall, to scare any good Citizen from appearing vigorously in the Discharge of his Duty for his Country's Service, by his Example. If any thing was wanting in his Trial, from the Haste of for the clearing his Innocency, he sufficiently made up in solemn Assevera tions thereof on the Scaffold: [God is my Witness, says he, the Crimes laid to my Charge were falsly and maliciously sworn against me the Witnesses for never was at any Consult, nor any Meeting where Matters against the Government were discoursed of] He adds, never heard or read any Declaration
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tending that Way. ] Again, [As for the Crimes for which suffer, Upon the Words of a dying Man, I'm altogether Inno cent. ] Lower he adds, [He died as he had lived, in the Com
munion of the Church of England, in whose Ordinances he had been often a Partaker, and now felt the Blessed Effects thereof in these his Agonies. ]
He was observed by those who stood near the Sledge, to have solemnly, several Times, averred his absolute Innocence of any Design against the Government, and particularly that which he died for.
There were some persons, who are sufficiently known, who were present at, and exprest a great deal of barbarous Joy at his Death : The open Publication of their Names is here spared, in
Hopes they have or will repent of so unmanly and unchristian a Behaviour ; tho' some of them then were so confounded with his Constancy and Chearful Bravery, as wickedly to report,
That he was Drunk or Mad when he died. His Quarters were set up on Guildhall, in Terrorem, and for the same Reason, no doubt, before mentioned, for which he was executed so near it. There was such a terrible Storm the Day of his Death, as has scarce been known in the Memory of Man ; and will never be forgot by those who were in it ; ten or a dozen Ships being founder'd, or stranded in one Road, and a vast many more in other Places. And as Heaven then did him Justice, and vindicated his Innocence, so Earth also has done it since, the Judgment against him being reverst by that Honourable, ever
Memorable Parliament, which under God and our King, has settled the Happiness both of this Age and Posterity.
There wanted not a Sort of Men at this Time who would have persuaded the World, that Murder was a Royal Sport ; for at this Time was printed a Ballad, call'd, Advice to the City, sung to the King at Windsor, wherein are these entertaining
Lines.
Stlfierman
Then, London, be wise, and baffle their Power, And let 'em play the Old Game no more,
Hang, hang up the Sheriffs, Those Baboons in Power, Those Popular Thieves, Those Rats of the Tower.
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a2lcsftem S^artprologp.
The Instruments of shedding this Blood may do well to reflect upon the Fate of Clowdesly, one of the Jury-men, and upon some others since, that were concerned in that Bloody Tragedy.
His Character.
He was a Person of as known Prudence as Integrity; a good
Christian, a compleat Citizen, a worthy Magistrate, and a worthy Church of England Man. He was so cautious and wise, that he was noted for it all thro' those worst of Times, and often proposed as an Example to others of hotter and more imprudent Tempers ; nor could the least Imputation be fixt on him of hearing, or con cealing any unlawful or dangerous Discourses, any other ways than by plain force of Perjury, being known to have shunned some Persons, whom he, as well as some other prudent Men, suspected to have no good Designs, and to be indued with no more Honesty than Discretion, as it afterwards proved. But he was designed to glorifie God by such an End as all his Care could not avoid, which he submitted to, with Bravery rarely to be met with, unless among those who suffered for the same Cause in the same Age ; or their Predecessors, Queen Mary's Martyrs. There was seen the same Tenour of Prudence and Piety through all the Actions of his Life, tho' most conspicuous in the last glorious Scene of it. There was such a firmness in his Soul, such Vigour, and almost Extatick Joy, and yet so well regulated, that it shin'd through his Face, almost with as visible Rays as those in which we use to dress Saints and Martyrs ; with which, both at his Sentence and Execution, he refresht all his Friends, and at once dazzled and confounded his
most bitter Enemies.
MR. CHARLES BATEMAN.
HE next and last was Mr. Bateman the Chyrurgeon, a Man of good Sense, good Courage, and good Company, and a very large and generous Temper, of considerable Repute and Practice in his Calling : A
great Lover and Vindicator of the Liberties of the City and Kingdom, and of more Interest than most of his station. He
S$r. Cljarlesf Batemaiu 97
was swore against by Rouse, Lee, and Richard Goodenough, upon the old Stories of seizing the Tower, City, and Savoy. We had had a better Defence, had he himself been able to have made it : But being kept close Prisoner in Newgate, the Windows and Rooms all dark, and little or no Company, he being a free jolly Man, and us'd formerly to Conversation and
Diversion, soon grew deeply melancholly ; and when he came on his Trial, appeared little less than perfectly distracted ; on which the Court very kindly gave his Son Liberty to make his Defence —The first instance to be sure of that Nature ; since he himself might probably, had he been in his Senses, have remembered and pleaded many Things more, which would have invalidated their Evidence against him. But had not the mistaken Piety of his Son undertook his Defence, certainly they could never have been such Cannibals to have tried one in his Condition. —Yet could but what he brought for him, been allowed its Weight and Justice, he had escaped well enough. For as for Lee, one Baker witnessed, [He had been practised upon by him in the Year 83,
and would have had him insinuate into Bateman's Company, and discourse about State-Affairs to trepan him, by which Means he should be made a Great Man. ] 'Twas urged besides, that there was three Years between the Fact pretended, and Lee's Prosecution of him, which, though they had but one Witness, could not have brought him to Punishment, which
would have been judged sufficient by any, but those who would be content with nothing but Blood. For Goodenough, he was but one Witness, and pardoned only so far, as to qualifie him to do Mischief. However he was found Guilty ; and just before his Execution very much recovered himself, dying as much like a Christian, and with as great a Presence of Mind as most of the others.
H
%ty flfllegtern S^artprologp,
DR. OATS, MR. JOHNSON, MR. DANGERFIELD.
E are now obliged, by the Thred of our History, to resume a Subject, which, 'tis not doubted, will be ungrateful enough to some Persons ; and that is, — the Popish Plot ; the Belief of which, by the in
defatigable Industry of that Party, and the weekly Pains of their Observator, and especially this last pretended Plot against the Government, was now almost entirely obliterated out of the Minds of the less thinking Part of the Nation. To accomplish
which more fully 'twas thought necessary by the Managers, either quite to take off, or expose to Miseries and Disgraces worse than Death, all those few Persons who remained honest and firm to their first Evidence : the Generality of the World judging by outward Appearance, and thinking it impossible but that one who stood in the Pillory, and was whipt at the Cart's- Arse, must be a PerjurM Rogue without more ado. Mr. Bedloe was dead, and his Testimony therefore would be easier forgotten ; tho' at his last Breath after the Sacrament, he Solemnly and
Juridically confirmed every Word of it before one of the Judges, who was happily in Bristol at the Time of his Death. Most of the Under-Evidences in the Plot were threatned, or promised, or brought off from what they had witnessed, or forced to leave the Land for the securing their Persons. None remains now besides Oats and Dangerfield, with whom all Means possible, fair and foul, had been used, to make 'em turn Villains, and deny their Evidence ; but to their eternal Praise, they still continued firm to their first Testimony, to the Rage and Confusion of their Enemies. They therefore went first to Work with the Doc tor ; and 'twill be worth the while to consider the Reason of his first persecution, by which Men that are not very prejudiced may see the Reason and Justice of those which follow, and 'twas \For scandalizing the Duke of York with that notorious Truth — That he was reconciled to the Church ^/"Rome, adding, What
every Man knows, that 'twas High Treason so to be. ] Would but the Doctor's greatest and most passionate Enemies reflect on this Beginning of his sorrows ; as well as calmly examine all
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that's to come, they must form a juster Judgment of his Person and Actions, than what seems too deeply fixed in 'em, ever to be rooted out ; for which he was adjudged to pay that reasonable little Fine of a iooooo Pounds, which, till he paid, tho' there was no great Haste for his doing he was committed to the Bench.
Having him thus in Limbo, they resolved to strike at the Root with him, and therefore after new fruitless Attempts to make him quit and revoke his Evidence, they made the last Effort on his Constancy and Honesty and indeed Life self, Indicting him
on the 8th and 9th of May 1685. for Perjury in some Branches of his Evidence, given in some of almost Seven Years before. His first Accusation was, [For swearing in Ireland's Trial, he himself was here in London, whereas 'twas pretended he was at that very Time at St. Omers. ] The second, That Ireland was at that Time in Town, when they would have believed he was in Staffordshire.
The Evidence for the first were all Lads of St. Omers, who, tho' they blundered ill-favouredly in former Attempts the same Way, and were accordingly told so by the Court in other Trials, were now grown expert in the Business, being all of a Religion that makes Perjury meritorious all Youths and
under such a Discipline as oblige them to obey their Superiors, without any Reserve, or questioning the Reason or Justice of the Thing all or most of 'em afterwards, rewarded with Places of Trust and Profit under King James, as, no Doubt, promised e'm before for their good Service. They all swore point-blank, That Oats was at St. Omers, when he swears he was here at
the Consult. Not one of these Witnesses who had not been bred at St. Omers, and but one who pretended to be a Protestant. For the second Indictment — Of Ireland's not being in Town in August, as Oats had sworn him They brought Witnesses to prove and that he was at that Time in Stafford shire; most, not all of which were great Papists.
In Answer to which, let's first be persuaded fairly to consider what may be said in his Defence, and most part of his Vindica tion over And first — These were most, or all of 'em, the self same Witnesses who in the successive Trials, Whitebread's, Harcourt's, &c. and Mr. Langhorn's, could not find Credit;
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Boys, and
several
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and who had several Witnesses who swore point-blank contrary to what they affirmed, some of whom were dead before this last Trial. Let's then consider what Defence Oats made for him self, which in Spite of his own and Jeffreys Passions, seems strenuous and unanswerable.
He had in the former Trials produced no less than Eight Persons who swore positively to his being in Town at that very Time, when the Jesuits and their Younkers would so fain had him been out of whose Names were Mr. Walker, an Ancient Minister of the Church of England, Sarah Ives, Mrs. Mayo,
Sir Rich. Barker, Mr. Page, Mr. Butler, William Smith, and Mr. Clay, a Romish Priest, Four of which, Mayo, Butler, Page, and Walker he now produced again at his Trial the two first of whom positively swore the same they did before the Minister was too Old to remember, and the last too fearful positively to affirm what they had before done.
As to the second Indictment, a Crowd of Witnesses, such as they were, came to testifie Ireland was in Staffordshire when
Oats swore him to be in London.
To this same Objection he had formerly answered, and
proved by the Oaths of Mr. Bedloe, and Sarah Pain, and after wards of Mr. Jennison, That Ireland was in Town, when others witness he was in the Country. But now at his Trial, Bedloe and Pain being dead, and Jennison fled into Holland, he was absolutely incapacitated of making any Defence that Way and so was found guilty of both Indictments.
The Judgment against him was just as merciful as could be
from Papists, acting by Jeffreys, Part of, which was, [To be whipt from Algate to Newgate on Wednesday, and on the Fridayfollowingfrom Newgate to Tyburn, and standon the Pillory five times a Year, and be Prisoner during Life. "] Which he bore with great deal of Strength and Courage tho' had not Providence provided him Body and Soul, made, one would think, on Purpose for 'twould have killed him, he'd had the Strength of Twenty Men. He had in all above two thousand Lashes, as some that were by reckon'd 'em up—Such
Thing as was never inflicted by any Jew, Turk, or Heathen, but Jeffreys nay, the merciful Jews thought one less than God Almighty had appointed sufficient, and never gave but 39 at
expected
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time, all St. PauPs three times not coming near the third Part of the Doctor's. Had they hang'd him, they had been merciful ; had they flead him alive, 'tis a Question whether it had been so much Torture. How good and merciful those Persons, who will vindicate this worse than barbarous and inhumane Action, are, let the World and future Ages be Judges ; in the mean while we'll safely defy all History to shew one Parallel of it either on Man or Dog, from the Creation of the World to the Year 1685.
But there needs no more Aggravation of or urging what
plain enough, that the thus dealing with him, even supposing his Crime as great as they'd have was yet the highest Affront and Indignity even to Humanity self. 'Twill, besides this, be an unanswerable Observation — That had been impossible for a Man to have held out the Second Whipping, after the First was over, while the Wounds were fresh about him, and every new Stroak more than a double Torment, either to have under
gone this without Confession, or dropping down dead with Extremity of Pain, had he not both had Truth on his side, and also a more than common Support and Assistance from him who saw his Innocency. This Whipping of his being the greatest Confirmation to his Evidence that was possible to be given.
After his Return to Prison, after all this Usage, yet possible, more barbarous, tearing off the Plaisters from his Wounds, crushing him with Irons, thrusting him into Holes and Dungeons, and endeavouring to render him as infamous to the Nation, and all the World, as Cain or Judas; he bore up against all this, and more, with- so strange and almost miraculous a Patience, that during his four Years Imprisonment, he was never once heard to sigh, or manifest any Impatience under his Condition. He refused all the Offers of the Jesuits, who even after this had the
Impudence to propose to him his recanting his Evidence. He' had still strong Belief that he should see better Times, and get his Freedom again, which he had in that General Goal- delivery, granted all England by the then Prince of Orange's
Heroick Undertaking. Since that, he has presented his Case and Petition to the Parliament to the House of Commons, as well as the House of Lords And tho' the Honourable House of Lords were offended at what they judged a Slight of their Jurisdiction, in his Addressing to the House of Commons,
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if
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while his Cause lay before them, and exprest their Resent ments thereof accordingly ; the Commons have since that taken his Case into Consideration, and, as well as four succed- ing Parliaments before 'em, own'd his Cause, and censured the Proceedings of Jeffreys against him ; and 'tis not doubted but will appoint him Rewards suitable to his Sufferings and Merit.
His Character.
His Firmness and Courage, even perhaps to Fault, have been visible through these mentioned, and all his other Actions since he appeared on the Publick Stage : His Passions are lively and warm, and he is the worst made for a Dissembler, an Hypocrite, or a secret Villain, of any Man in the World. Nor have all his
Sufferings much sunk him, tho' he be a little altered in this Par ticular. He's open and frank, and speaks whatever he thinks of any Persons or Things in the World, and bearing himself justly enough, on his Services to his Country, is not careful enough to keep that Guard which others do, on his Words and Actions. He has Wit enough, a pleasant Humour, and sufficiently diver- tive to those he knows, and his Learning is far from con
He has a good Library, is no mean Critick in the Greek, and well acquainted with the Schoolmen and Fathers. He's Owner of as much Generosity as any Man, and as much Tenderness to any in Misery, scorning to strike at those below
him ; an Example of which very remarkakle there was in his in humane Judge's Fall, he being almost the only Person who has been heard to pity him ; though one would have thought he should have been the last. In a Word, as this present Age has now begun to do him Justice, so 'tis not doubted but they'll make an End on't, and those succeeding join with it in making honourable Mention of his Name and Services to the Protestant Religion.
temptible.
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MR. JOHNSON.
UCH about the same Time, the Pious, Reverend, and Learned Mr. Johnson met with much the same Usage. His great Crimes were, —Being my Lord Russel's Chaplain, writing the Famous
Julian the Apostate, and endeavouring to persuade the Nation, not to let themselves be made Slaves and Papists, when so many others were doing their part to bring 'em to it. And 'tis a Question whether any Man in the World, besides his Friend the Reverend Dr. Burnet, did more Service with his Pen, or more conduced to our great and happy Revolution, both among the Army, and in other Places. For some of these good Services, he was Accused, Imprisoned, Tried, and Condemned to be divested of his Canonical Habit, and be whipt as far as Oats was before him ; which was performed, and which he underwent, as he did, with Courage and Constancy above a Man, and like a Christian and a Martyr. He remained ever since in the King's Bench, till
the Prince's Coming delivered him.
The following Paper was Published by Mr. Samuel Johnson,
in the Year 1686. For which he was Sentenced by the Court of King's Bench, (Sir Edward Herbert being Lord Chief Justice) to stand Three Times on the Pillory, and to be Whipped from Newgate to Tyburn ; which Barbarous Sentence was Executed.
An Humble and Hearty ADDRESS to all the English Protestants in this present Army.
Gentlemen,
Next to the Duty which we owe to God, which ought to be the
Principal Care of Men of your Profession especially (because you carry your Lives in your Hands, and often look Death in the Face ;) the Second Thing that deserves your Consideration, is, the Service of your Native Country, wherein you drew your first Breath, and breathed a Free English Air : Now I would desire you to consider, how well you comply with these Two Main Points, by engaging in this present Service.
io4
Miegtern
St^artproIog^
Is it in the Name of God, and for his Service, that you have joined yourself with Papists ; who will indeed fight for the Mass-
Book, but burn the Bible ; and who seek to extirpate the Protes tant Religion with your Swords, because they cannot do it with their own ? And will you be Aiding and Assisting to set up Mass- houses, to erect that Popish Kingdom of Darkness and Desolation amongst us, and to train up all our Children in Popery ? How
can you do these Things and yet call yourselves Protestants? And then what Service can be done your Country, by being
under the Command of French and Irish Papists, and by bring ing the Nation under a Foreign Yoak ? Will you help them to make forcible Entry into the Houses of your Country-men, under the Name of Quartering, contrary to Magna Charta and the Petition of Right ? Will you be Aiding and Assisting to all the Murthers and Outrages which they shall commit by their void Commissions ? Which were declared Illegal, and sufficiently blasted by both Houses of Parliament (if there had been any Need of it) for it was very well known before, That a Papist cannot have a Commission, but by the Law is utterly disabled and disarmed. Will you exchange your Birth-right of English Laws and Liberties for Martial or Club- Law, and help to destroy all others, only to be eaten last yourselves? If I know you well, as you are English-men, you hate and scorn all these Things. And therefore be not unequally yoaked with Idolatrous and Bloody Papists. Be Valiant for the Truth, and shew yourselves Men.
The same Considerations are likewise humbly offered to all the English Seamen, who have been the Bulwark of this Nation against Popery and Slavery ever since Eighty-Eight.
His Character.
If any Man does not know what he is, let him read his Julian, and Defences of it ; he'll find there as much clear, close, fair Reason, Scripture, and Law, as ever an ill Cause had brought against or a good one for it. Mr. Johnson a true Christian Stoick and tho' he writes warmly, thinks and acts as coldly as
any Man in Chistendom. His Piety as remarkable as his Constancy, and his Universal Charity as both. — But he's still alive and 'tis better to say no more of him, than either too much, or too little.
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MR. DANGERFIELD.
^IS Father was a Gentleman, who lived in good Fashion at Waltham-Abby, or thereabout,—had B9 been a great Sufferer for K. Charles I. , and charged
this his Son on his Death-bed, after his Dis covery of the Plot, never to have any Hand in any thing against the Government ; which he promis'd, and faithfully observed. He was a Man of Business and Courage, and therefore employed by the Papists, while among 'em, in their desperate and most dangerous Concerns. He was then of a Religion that excused
and encouraged the worst Things he or any other Man could be guilty of. The great Thing which brought him on the Stage, was Mrs. Celiers Business, called, The Meal-Tub-Plot.
The Papists had design'd to kill two Birds with one Stone — Divert the Laws and People from themselves, and ruin their Enemies ; for which End they had among 'em made a Plot to bring in the Best Men and Patriots of the Kingdom into a pretended Design against the King and Government, by a kind of an Association, like that which afterwards took better Effect. And for this Transaction Mr. Dangerfield was made Choice of, a List of their Names, with the Design, being by him, according to Order, con veyed into one Colonel MansePs Chamber — But he was disco
vered, and seized in the Design, and acknowledged all the In trigue, giving so clear an Account of that they had never to this very Day the Impudence to pretend any Contradiction, or Trip in his Evidence, nor any other Way but flat Denial. But there was somewhat yet deeper in the Case, which he afterwards revealed in his Depositions before the Parliament, That he was employed by the same Party to kill the King, and encouraged and promised Impunity and Reward, and Part of it given him
a Great Person for that End.
When the Stream ran violently for Popery, he went over, for
Security, into Flanders, but continued no longer there and re turning back, he was some time after seized, and carried before the Council, where, before the King himself, persisting to Tittle, in all his former Evidence, he was committed to Newgate; and after having lain there for some Time, Petitioned for Trial,
a
; a
by
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1o6 flfllesftern Sl£artprologp,
which they could not do upon any Account but Scandalum Magnatum, and that in a Matter which lay only before the Par liament to whom he had revealed it. Yet for that he was tried, and found Guilty, as Wi. Williams the Speaker afterwards for
Licensing his Narrative, by Order of Parliament. He was to undergo the same Whipping Oats and Johnson did. Before he went out, he had strong Bodings of his Death, and chose a Text
for his Funeral Sermon in the
. . .
of Job, There the Wicked cease from troubling, and there the Weary are at Rest. Saying, He was confident they had such a particular Malice against him, he should ne'er return alive : Confirmed the Truth of all his former Evidence, and took a last Farewel of his Friends. After the
Sentence was executed on him, in his Return home, one Francis stabb'd him into the Eye with a sort of a Tuck in the End of his Cane, which touching his Brain, he was hardly ever sensible after, but died of the Wound in a few Hours, not without great Suspicion of Poison, his Body being swoln and black, and full of great Blains all over. The Murderer fled, but was pursued by the Rabble, who had torn him to Pieces, had not the Officers rescued him. He defended and justified the Fact whilst in Newgate, saying, He had the Greatest Men in the Kingdom to stand by him; to whom after his Trial, and being found Guilty upon clear Evidence, great Applications were made, which had been successful for his Pardon, had not Jeffreys himself gone to
Whitehall, and told the King, He must die, for the Rabble were now throughly heated. Attempts were made to bribe Mr. Dan- gerfield's Wife, that she might consent to the Pardon of her Husband's Murderer ; but she too well deserved to be related to him, to sell his Blood ; and had an Appeal ready against him, had he been Pardoned. So the poor State-Martyr was hang'd, as Coleman was before him. Mr. Dangerfield's Body was con veyed to Waltham-Abby, with several Coaches attending and there handsomly buried. He has left one Daughter behind him who, she lives, will be the true Child of her Father.
His Character.
The worst of his Enemies have owned he was a Man of Wit, Courage, and Business all which he reconciled the best of any
;
if
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2Dangerfieltu
107
one ; he had as much Address, as perfect and great a Presence of Mind, in whatever Exigences, as can be met with. He was the best Companion, the best Friend in the World, and as generous an Enemy. He did nothing but what lookt very hand some ; and there was a Charm in the meanest, and something most bewitchingly pleasant in the most indefensible of his Actions. He could do almost every Thing, and 'tis hard to say what he did with the greatest Grace. In a Word, all that knew
him must say, That he wanted nothing but an Estate to have made him as compleat a Gentleman as most in England.
An ELEGY upon Mr. Thomas Dangerfield.
Go then, Mount-on ! Wing through the midway Air, And Godfrey's hovering Shade shall meet thee there : A Thousand Martyrs thou, a Wound all o'er,
Thy mighty Mind leaps out at every Pore,
My rising Heart boils high, the ungrateful World shall see Something Immortal, something worthy thee :
Larger within the Noble Image grows,
Free, like thy Blood, the uncall'd Satyr flows ;
But not one Tear to affront thy pious Grave,
Russel and Generous Essex died less Brave ;
Love, Pity, Friendship, all their Claims begin,
But Vengeance drowns 'em all. and roars aloud within, And thou Hell's Ehud, by black Rome decreed, Hallow'd and Blest to do the Glorious Deed ;
If his dear Name can ought of Passion move, Ifthere are any Strings in Blood or Love,
Ev'n at Hell Gates I'll reach and stab thee there ; Nor can so just a Rage be too severe.
Tho' my wild Satyr means a Nobler Wound. Others I strike, thee but at the Rebound. Like him we'll tell 'em to their Teeth 'tis true. Defie a Stab, and give the Devil his due.
And if you Bright Exalted Names above, Know any thing but how to Sing and Love, Look down dear Sharer of my Soul, and see A Vengeance worthy of thy Friend and Thee.
io8
flfliostern Spartprologp.
A Friend's Revenge may thy black Murtherers feel, Oh may my Pen dart Groves of poison'd Steel,
Till through their lustful Veins the Venom rolls, And with a double Rot consumes their very Souls. None, none ! shall 'scape the just and deadly Blow, None that these Grand Intrigues of Murder know, From Conclaves down to little Kings below :
Let Laureats belch a pocky Herds Fame,
When Canbieb o'er with some cramp Hebrew Name,
As their good Fellow Catholick Jews before
Nick-name a Calf Jehovah, and adore.
No well-wrote Story, no Romance can yield,
A Greater, Nobler Name than ©anoerfielb ;
Nothing he wants, tho' Fate no Title brings,
That single Name's above an Earl's, a Duke's, a King's. When Ease and Plenty their Brisk Forces join,
Or the heigh Veins are swoln with lusty Wine ; When we on Honour's lofty Turrets go,
And look with Scorn on little Crouds below,
Ev'n Fools and Cowards bold and witty grow,
When Jeffreys on the Bench, Ketch on the Gibbet fits, Some take ev'n them for Courages and Wits.
Nay, Nobler Souls than those, if Fortune frown,
Oft broke and conquer'd meanly tumble down.
If Fate unjust Success to Tyrants give,
Ev'n the Heroick Brutus dares not live.
But greater he's still what he was before,
Nay, greater yet, is all himself and more.
Tho' man ungrate he ever yet has known,
Tho' they forsake him, he's not yet alone.
For some too Honest, and for some too Brave,
How should he thrive, when neither Fool nor Knave. He's not alone, another Spirit attends,
. A nearer Comfort than a Thousand Friends.
V? eat>atf ! see how bravely he maintains his Ground ! Tho' with whole Hells of Devils baited round ;
Charge on, charge thicker yet ! He stands, he stands ! The Blest above look down, and clap their Hands; Envy the ungrateful world so great a Bliss,
2DangerfieltL
And almost wish to change their Place for his. Unbriffd he stands, with Hopes of Victory,
Knowing his greatest Conquest was to die.
Thus the Brave Lion, when base Hounds pursue, And seize on every Pass and Avenue ;
Tho' from within his mighty Genius call,
And KneFs of sudden Thunder bode his Fall, Walks careless on, walks on and looks about, Terror and Death, thro' all the ignoble Rout, And sells his Life so dear, tho' pleas'd to die, 'Tis hardly worth the while for them to buy.
Nothing his equal Temper e'er could move,
No, tho' a very Jeffreys sate above.
Had some good Heath'nish Pilate been preferr'd, To fill the Place, he had at least been heard,
But he so fair a Measure must not find,
For Justice now's grown deaf as well as blind. Justice is deaf, but yet her Mouth's so wide,
So loud she yells lis deafens all beside.
If she's return'd from HeaVn, as all must say, Sure she call'd in at Billingsgate by the Way, Raving, her Collar from her Neck she tore,
Knowing another would become it more.
Thus the Gay Mad-man twists Straw-wreaths, and then
He knows not why, tears 'em to Dust again.
Ah Mystick Fate I Who can thy Methods know ? Jeffrey's above, and Dangerfield below /
But since no Friend, nor Poet can invent,
Deeper Damnation for his Punishment,
May he be Jeffreys still, and ne'er repent.
And now the Fatal Day begins to dawn,
The Curtain of the last sad Scene is drawn;
Pale let it ever rise with doubtful Light,
Hardly distinguisht from preceding Night.
May Birds obscene and ominous round it stray, May troubled Ghosts keep dismal Holiday.
Curse on each Hour — But hold, for he looks down,
And over his calm Face has drawn a Frown.
Forgive, bright Soul 7 the Starts of a distracted Mind ;
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The Poet now the Christian leaves behind. Withdraw that just, that now unusual Frown. Blest be the happy Day that brought thy Crown :
Thy Radiant Crown of Martyrdom, which brings
A thousand Joys more than the Crowns of Kings; A thousand Joys without a thousand Stings.
Soon rose the Sun so great a Day to see,
Soon rose the Sun but not so soon as he.
A brighter Sun, Assistance down he calls ;
He draws all Heav'n within his dusky Walls.
So laught the Apostles at Hell's baffled Rage,
And sung in spite of Fetters and a Cage.
Around Heav'n' s Battlements bright Legions wait, And crouding Seraphs open wide the Gate.
One who of Martyrs has peculiar Care,
Is sent to whisper in his Soul, Prepare;
Or else his Guardian-friend had made him know, That long expected Message — He must go,
For sure he knew the worst their Rage could do ;
He knew, he saw it all, and scorn'd it too.
Pray on, Great Soul! and like thy Master be,
For those that now begin to murder thee ;
Thy Master thus, thus thy Lord Jesus dy'd ;
He must be scourg'd before he's crucify'd.
Though milder Jews far more good Nature have ; They Forty Stripes, Jeffreys Four Hundred gave. Far more had he at first from Vertue fell ;
Ten times afitter Friend for Rome and Hell ;
Ten times less than this Torment would alone,
For ten times worse, and ten times more attone : Blood might ha' done, had not fair Tears done more, And PeniteInce washt him whiter than before.
—
Might rescue ei/n a Jeffreys out of Hell. But this is Mercy, tender Mercy all : One Death is for a ©angcrfieTl) too small.
All Hell had doubly sworn he should not live, And they'll as soon repent, as they'll forgive.
Papist too
Nay were
I'd say those precious Show'rs which from him fell
2Dangerfielti. m
High rampt great Lucifer above his Throne, Where Monarch Absolute he Reigns alone, Shaking the Scaly Horror of his Tail,
He swore this last Plot could not, should not fail.
A Pursuivant was sent, nor far he sought,
But soon this Engine to the Presence brought,
The milder Furies started, when he came,
The Ghosts div'd down thro' Seas of melted Flame,
And heard and felt new Torments at his Name ;
Th' Old Dragon only smiled and thus began,
Dear part of me ! Dear some thing more than Man / Let Parry, Clement, Ravil'ack combine,
And cram their Souls great Murderer into thine. I love a Man that's resolute and brave,
Not silly Consciences, or Custom's Slave.
Safety you're sure of, that at least is due ;
Nor must we (Sir) forsake such Friends as you.
Go then and prosper I Thus I thee inspire
With Sparks of my own noble gen'rous Fire ! Chuse what you like ! Rewards you need not fear !
%t Chancellor, or i©6#ertiatnr fare.
Go on, and act a Deed so worthy me,
That Hell may both admire and envy thee !
Away he comes : a double Francis now,
Half Devil, half Papist, rivell'd on his Brow ;
Two Strings to's Bow, for fear one should not do, Stelletto's sometimes fail, take Poison too.
Against such powerful Reasons, who'll presume
To speak ? These, these are the Two Keys of Rome; These to blest Peter's Successor were given,
Opening Hell to themselves, to others HeaVn.
Poison, which o'er so many a Convert brings, Poison, the safest Pillfor resty Kings.
Not all the Reasons in strong Box e'er pent, Can challenge half so much of Argument.
Steel, that can sometimes work as great a Cure, Where Patients th' Operation can endure. Steel, which tho' so unlike poison Apes, Drest in as many neat, convenient Shapes.
it,
ii2 Wit flfllegtem S^actpirolog:g.
A Knife, when the French Harry is to die,
Anon a Sword, a Razor by and by.
But now, since holy Church requires it, 'twill
Turn Coward, and sneak into Canes to kill.
Close by the Hero, now Hell's Viceroy stood,
And views him crusted o'er with Wounds and Blood, Who all unmov'd, tho' all one Clod of Gore,
His Master's Characters undaunted wore ;
Such Marks he wore as Scythians ne'er invent,
At which all but a Francis would relent.
He Hell and his Great Master does invoke,
Then with a generous Fury gives the Stroak.
Wretch, well thou aim'dst, too well thou'st struck his Head,
Thou'st pierc'd his Eye, or else he'd lookt thee dead.
Tho' wounded all, tho' like great Sampson blind,
Ah could he too like him his Enemies find,
No Fiend, no Devil should have reprieved at all,
He'd crusht thy pois'nous Soul away, and Kill'd thee with his Run Monster, for thy cursed Life, and see
If Vengeance cannot run asfast as thee.
The very Rabble's mov'd, the unthinking Croud ;
Th' unweildy Clocks wound up, and strikes aloud. Tho' Hag-rid now so long, yet 'tis not tam'd :
Revenge they name, but ah 'tis only nam'd.
Ah had their Clacks but held Heav'en had lookt down, And with kind Thunder fir'd the ungrateful Town.
Pity the noble Stain was washt with Blood,
It like a Noble Canker should have stood.
Consuming, rotting, pois'ning great and small,
Cottage and Pallace, Beams and Stones, and all.
Tis well at last he merits their Esteem :
Now, now they love, yes now they pity him.
Revenge they with unknown good Nature cry,
With unsuspected Ingenuity !
But to please Fools 'twa'nt worth the while to die.
Yes Brutes ! at last no doubt you think him brave, O he's done well ; his Death will Charges save. Revenge, Revenge runs through the opening Town, Revenge they cry and hunt the Murd'rer down.
[Fall.
2Dangerfielti.
The Beast was earth'd indeed, but 'twas in vain : (Cainfled, but God had set a Mark on Cain,)
Close, close they hunt, and lug him out again. May Conscience and the Rabble him attend, While we our Duty pay to such a Friend.
Some Tears e'en by Religious Leave are due, Some Tears, and some well-meaning Curses too. Can Mothers weep when their soft Infants Bones Kind Papists crush against the kinder Stones.
When the dear Pledges from chase Nuptials born, Are for their milder Hounds in pieces torn : Sleeping and smiling from their quiv'ring Breast
Are broacht on Pikes, and sent to longer Rest. Can Man himself restrain unmanly Cries,
When his dear other Self is rape'd before his Eyes ? Nay, can he Groans, Curses, Tears themselves forbear,
To see his Babes hang in their Mother's Hair ? All this have the good Catholicks done before : All this they now prepare again, or more.
And he the Handsel of their Malice tries : To see if yet their Hands be in, he dies.
Tare off his useless Plaisters you that can,
You that have more, or less than Hearts of Man,
Look their he floating lyes, o'erflown, and drown'd
In Tides of Poison'd Gore roll'd from the weltring wound. All o'er beside it dropt in gentle Rains,
But here burst down in Seas and Hurricanes.
What dire Convulsions shake that Beauteous Frame,
None of its self is left besides the Name.
How ghastly Horror rears its dismal throne,
Where once sat Charms that could be there alone ?
Dreadful distortions rack that bloated Face, And gone are every Beauty, every Grace.
His gloomy Eye-ball rolls in mortal Pain ;
And feels for the departed Light in vain.
Where are those Eyes that could so well inspire Love's soft, fair, charming, harmless, lambent Fire. Blood flows without, as Poison flows within,
And half bears up his black distended Skin.
114 %ty Wlt&tem S^artprologp.
Where manly Friendship reign'd and softer Love, Blood, Blood is all below', and Horror all above.
•
Pity be gone, and Nobler Rage succeed ! Others besides a Dangerfield shall bleed. Bring forth the Prisoner, let him, let him live,
For I
0 for an Age of Torment ! Might he lye Like Titius rackt, like the keen Vulture I.
no more than can forgive. Jeffreys
Jove's own Ambrosia can't be half so good As his broyPd Flesh, nor Nectar as his Blood.
But what's one Mouth ? Loose him, and cry 'tis he ! Loose him among the well teeth'd Mobile !
They'll quarter him, not by the Arm or Leg,
But into Atoms tare HelPs Scanderbeg.
What a bare hanging ! Such a Death were fit
For some well-meaning, harmless Jesuit,
One who poor Soul knows but their little Things, Burning proud Cities, pois'ning, stabbing Kings.
He hath a Deed well worth Damnation done, And perfected those Stroaks they but begun. Hanging ! Why they almost deserv'd that Curse Who darM but think that he deserv'd no worse. The best, the bravest Thing for which almost
I could be foolish, and forgive his Ghost,
Is that he triumphs in the Blood he spilt, And bravely stands and glory's in his Guilt ; He's hit me full, and I'd no worse invent,
No, no, 'twas pity he should e'er repent.
But ye who hallow with deserv'd Applause,
A better Martyr for a better Cause.
You who to Fate and Fortune scorn to yield
Who still dare own you're Friends to Dangerfield ; And you dear Partner of his Joy and Grief,
The worthiest him, the best, the tend'rest Wife, Who most, who best adore his Memory,
Who only I must grant lov'd more than me. Bring his dear All which at your bottom lyes, Hisfair Remains which I shall ever prize,
apr, 2Dangerfielti.
Whose Father's vigorous Soul plays round her Eyes. All, all in a full Ring together come,
And join your Pray'rs and Curses round his Tomb.
Curst be the Wretch who did him first ensnare, Too mean to let his Name have here a Share.
A double Curse for them that thought it good, Such a Wife should sell such a Husbands Blood. Still double, double, till I'm out of Breath,
On all that had a Hand, a Finger in his Death, My Curse, a Friend's, a Wife's, an Orphans's too,
For all of this side Damning is their due. The little Plagues of Egypt to begin : Ashwedn'sday's Curses for each lesser Sin. With whate'er angry Heaven since could find To bait and lash impenitent Mankind.
Gouts, Feavers, Frenzies, Claps, Consumptions, Cramps, Whatever may put out their stinking Lamps ;
May kind Abortions in some lucky Hour,
The Fruit and Hope of their vain Lust devour: Or if they're born, may the unwholesome Fry, Creep only like young Toads abroad, and die. Heartily thus let's curse, and if vain Pity move, Straight think again on manly Rage, and love, Swear by his Blood, and better while we live, This on our selves if we his Blood forgive.
And may whoe'er his Murd'rer's Death deplore, Feel all these Curses, and Ten Thousand more.
Dangerfield's Ghost to Jeffreys.
Revenge ! Revenge! My injur'd Shade begins
To haunt thy guilty Soul, and scourge thy Sins : For since to me thou ow'st the heaviest Score, Whose living Words tormented thee before,
When dead, I'm come to plague thee yet once more. Don't start away, and think thy Brass to hide,
But see the dismal Shape in which I dy'd I
My Body all deform'd with putrid Gore,
Bleeding my Soul away at every pore ;
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Pusht faster on by Francis, less unkind ; My Body swoln, and bloated as thy Mind. This dangling Eye-ball rolls about in vain, Never to find his proper Seat again,
The hollow Cell usurpt by Blood and Brain : The trembling Jury's Verdict ought to be Murder d at once, by Francis, and by Thee.
The Groans of Orphans, and the pond'rous Guilt Of all the Blood that thou hast ever spilt ;
Thy Country's Curse, the Rabble's Spite, and all
Those Wishes sent thee since they long-wisht Fall ; The Nobles just Revenge, so bravely bought,
For all thy Ills thy Insolence has wrought :
May these and more their utmost Force combine,
Join all their Wrongs, and mix their Cries with mine. And see if Terror has not struck thee blind ;
See here along, a ghastly Train behind !
Far, far from utmost WEST they crowd away, And hov'ring o'er fright back the sickly Day. Had the poor Wretches sinn'd as much as Thee, Thou shouldst not have forgot Humanity : Whoe'er in Blood can so much pleasure take ?
Tho' an ill Judge would a good Hang-man make. Each hollows in thy Ears, Prepare ! Prepare
For what thou must, yet what thou canst not bear ! Each at thy Heart a bloody Dagger aims,
Upward to Gibbets point, downward to endless Flames.
MR. NOISE.
MONG those who suffered innocently for Lee's Plot, this poor young Gentleman was one, tho' omitted in due Place, who tho' he lost not his Life imme diately by was yet put to such Extremities, as
both injured his Reason, and ruined his Fortunes. He was born of good Family not far from Reading, in Barkshire; and being a younger Son, was bound Apprentice to Linen-Draper
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in London. In which Capacity he was a great Promoter of the Apprentices Addresses, intended to be presented to the King for Redress of Grievances, and further Prosecution of the Popish Plot. A Crime, which those concerned, could never pardon, and which was now lookt on, both by himself, and all his Friends, as the Cause of these his Troubles.
Lee swore against him that he was concerned in this Plot, which he absolutely denying, tho' no other Witness came in against him, and he was never brought to a Trial, he underwent a long and severe Imprisonment, loaded with Irons, and kept from his Friends, so long till his Trade was ruined before he was set free, and he himself then rendered so unfit for Business, that he was forced entirely to leave it off, and betake himself to Travel :
Where, never quite recovering himself, he in a little Time after fell sick and died.
And here 'twill not be improper to remind my Readers, that about this Time Things running very high for Popery and Arbi trary Power, the Consideration thereof was very afflicting to Mr. Noise: Yet notwithstanding all this, he was silent a long while and minded only the proper Business of his Calling, resolving not to concern himself with State-Affairs, as deeming them above his Sphere and Condition ; which Silence and Resolution he had still kept, notwithstanding the great and ineffable Evils he saw impending over us, (which were much the more apparent upon the Prorogations and Dissolutions of so many Parliaments in so dangerous and so critical a Juncture ;) but that casually reading one of the Weekly Intelligences, he happened therein to meet with something, Entituled, An Address from the Loyal Young Men Apprentices of the City of London to His Majesty : The Title (he thought) concerned him, as being a Loyal Appren tice of the same City, and therefore he deliberately read it over. At first it seemed to bear a fair Aspect, as it was a Tender of Thanks to His Majesty for His most Gracious Declaration ; but considering that this Declaration contained in several severe Reflections on the Proceedings of the late Parlia ments, terming them Arbitrary, illegal, and unwarrantable, Mr. Noise dreaded the Consequence of such Reflections, as believing that stood not with Modesty, for Apprentices to charge the Great Senate of the Nation with Arbitrary, Illegal, and Un
it
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n8 Uty Wit&ttvn S^artpirologp.
warrantable Proceedings ; and resolved what in him lay, to Vindicate himself and fellow-Apprentices (which is thought to have been the Cause of all his Sufferings before related) and to satisfie the whole World, that the far greater Part of the Apprenties of London have too great a Veneration for Parlia-
" ments, (which under his Majesty are the Bulwarks of our Lives, Liberties, and Properties) for to be concerned in any Thing tending to Reproach, or reflect upon them ; he advis'd with several sober Persons about who did not disapprove of his Design, but Advice therein they would not give Wherefore Mr.
Noise thinking to Petition the Lord Mayor would be the most modest and proper Way to demonstrate Dislike of, and Detes tation to all such Actions, he caused the following Petition to be drawn up and Presented, viz.
To the Right Honourable Lord Mayor of London, the Humble Address of many Thousand Loyal Apprentices of the same City, whose names are hereunto Subscribed,
In all Humility Sheweth,
That as we are justly sensible of our Happiness, in being bom under the Enjoyment of the Protestant Religion, so Ex cellent a Government, and so Gracious a King, to whose Service we shall ever be ready to sacrifice our Lives so have we continually applied our selves to discharge our Duties in our
proper Callings, without presuming to intermeddle in Affairs beyond our Sphere or Concernment.