Venenum Effusum, OR, Poyson spilt on the ground.

DECLAMATION XVII.

Page  399For the Son against the Father.

WEary as I am, my Lords, with the different hurries of my woful mind, my grief being the same in each of them, whilest that which pushes me on, does likewise pluck me back from every frame of Spirit I am in, so that I cannot endure either to be so hardy as to live, or so desperate as to dye; yet I humbly beg this in the first place of your Lord∣ships Clemency, (which I have already had so much experience of) that you wou'd not wonder to see me unresolv'd what to do, when so many sad distresses do press me on every side; so that by reason of my Misery, I can find no better Reme∣dy, than to dye; and by reason of my Inno∣cency, no better Expedient than to live. There∣fore, my Lords, seeing I am accused upon both accounts, in such a new and unusual kind of Action, how shall I sufficiently bewail or lament my Calamity? 'Tis true, I was a Person wil∣ling to make away my self in secret, and it had almost Kill'd me out-right, that my Fa∣ther chopt in upon me on a sudden. You see him yet quarrelling with me, as he did when we were in that close Room, where he found me. Whatever doth not destroy, and bring me Page  400to my Grave, he calls Contumacy; so little doth he respect my absolution, or my Life. Af∣ter this, who can make any doubt, with what intent he bid me drink the Poyson, seeing he calls it Parricide, that I did not drink it? No Question, he wou'd ha' let me ha' taken it all off, if I had been willing. I beseech you there∣fore, my Lords, look narrowly into the Cause of this present Suit. Do you think my Father objects Parricide to me, upon his own account? No, he is even cut to the heart, he frets, •e is tormented that I am alive. For this is that he can't endure to hear of; that he commanded me to kill my self, and yet could not compel me thereto; he knows, it was Wickedness in him to command it, if it were Innocence in me to refuse it. This is a great piece of Cruelty in him, he defends and excuses himself from any odious reflection by my crimes, and that you might not hate that word (Parricide) as if the deed had been done, he substitutes a miserable for a bad Father. My Lords, this is the rage of his Impi∣ety, now he is sound out. No Father would ever have his Son seem innocent, if he has a mind to destroy him.

My Lords, I humbly beseech this also of your publick Wisdoms, that none of you would ima∣gin I was not peremptorily resolv'd to dye. As yet I make my defence at the rate of my former Constancy; but if I get the better in the Suit, then I stand upon another Foot; I stand firmer as accused, than I shall be, if acquitted. For then only I shall not be able to bear my calamity, when it begins to appear, that I am Page  401only miserable not innocent. 'Tis well for me, that my Father su's me again at Law, he oc∣casions me thereby to plead my Innocent Cause, and he does me the Favour, to make me think my death had been lost, if I had drank the Poyson. If my Father repents, that he bid me drink off the Poyson, I can't abide that I spilt it. Thô therefore the Merciless Old Man endeavours to confound publick Affections, by changing the nature and kind of his Complaint, yet we are no new Customers, we have been Plaintiff and Defendant before, nor hath the late immanity of his impious Suit discharged us? Par∣ricide in an old accusation with him. 'Tis just so, my Lords, 'tis just so, 'tis a long time ago, since I was indicted as the veriest Villain in the World. So that the first Churlish unnatural∣ness of my Father did endeavour to blast me. And now , thô you have already commanded him to desist and give over, yet this is the Man, that will trouble your Lordships still, thô he be cast never so many times, yet he's at it again. He is deceiv'd that thinks the Old Mans disposition will be tyred out and made to endure it. No, a Father, that cou'd not prevail in Law to disinherit his Son, had rather have him found Guilty than Acquitted. A Mans own Parents, when they are cast in their Suits, are the most pertinacious Accusers of all; they'le never give over. Whilst you maintain the Authority of your Power strongly by imperious affections, and , lest you should confess your shame or penitence, do vindicate error by calumny, this addition is made to my calamity, that I was Page  402acquitted thrice. For when the Old Man found that his spight against me was successless the very first Tryal he had; he cou'd not abide I shou'd be turn'd back upon him, against his Will; and because your Lordships would not give way, he should legally disinherit me, yet he was stiff in his resolution still, to desire to do it. He kept up his belief, that it wou'd be for his advantage, if he persisted in his unjust Complaints; and he hop'd that by his common barretting against me, People at last would be weary of pitying me. What should I do in this Case? My Innocence being tir'd out as it were, whither should I turn my self? 'Twas not con∣venient, I should leave the House, for then I should seem to have own'd, what your Lord∣ships wou'd not believe; nor could I well stay at home, for he threatned me with another Set of miseries, for now he seem'd to hate me with such an additional eagerness, as he shew'd towards you for my sake. At last, poor Man, I took pity on my self, and on my Father too, for seeing I foresaw by what was past, that he would be at variance with me as long as I liv'd, I confess I catcht at every opportunity, which seem'd to me to exasperate my present State, to beseech his favour till I dy'd; and I found out this as the last Expedient I had for it, that seeing I was willing to dye for honour and reverence of him, he would at last cease hating me, even as if I had gon out of the way till his rage was over. That Son can have no other Exit but death only, that can neither be Page  403reconciled to hit Father, nor yet be disinherited by him.

There was a private Room in our House, into which, when I was Accused, I us'd always to re∣tire myself, and when I was Acquitted in Court, I did the same; here, and no where else, I had liberty to make my Complaints and shed my Tears. Yet, let me tell you, I went not into it, as if I could deceive the watchful Guard my Father set upon me, for alas, 'twas not possible to find out any place at all, where his Spyes, that stu∣died to take even the least advantage against me, could not find me out? But as those Persons do, who are resolved to dye, I separated my self, out of modesty not out of wrath, from all things that might have diverted me from my purpose. For, to tell you the truth, I never lik'd a quarrelsom and noysy Exit out of the World; nor such as would leave any reflection upon others behind it. But what have I to do with this extraordinary sim∣plicity of Innocence? He that prepares Poyson for himself to drink, never thinks it possible that he can be discovered. Here, poor Man, considering all things, within and without, I will not deny, but I stuck a little at that Fatal business of dying; I confess, I us'd some cunctation and delay, for a good Conscience covets not an hasty death; neither do such Persons run headlong to their Graves, who dye only out of Pity to themselves. My Soul, be∣ing wholly fix't on the Contemplation of Death, was taking its flight by secret complaints; and when I was about to drink the Potion, that was to give me my Farewel from the World, my mind was inwardly pondering upon my compleat Innocence. Page  404When lo, my Father rush'd in upon my Privacy, thô I had fill'd the Room full enough with the Impatient moans of a dying Man; I believe he was guided to the place, by the noise of my Groanings and Tears. My Lords, he can't seem to have suspected any thing of Parricide: He that put the Question to me, what I was a pounding, and for whom I was preparing it, must needs be ignorant of both. I tell you plainly, my Lords, dy∣ing Men can't counterfeit, and nothing more harm∣lesly innocent, than a Soul that's ready to part from the Body. At the sudden rushing in of my Father, I confess, I was somewhat astonished, but not as Criminals are, when they are surprised; if I had held my peace, my Countenance was not pale at all, nor did any guilty trembling betray me; nor did I stumble or falter in my Answers or Excuses, as Offenders, when they are questioned, use to do: But, when my Father, with his sud∣den Question, made me start and look about me, What are you Compounding, says he, and for whom? I Answered him truly, without any hesi∣tation or stop in the least, Sir, said I, I have a mind to put an End to my own Life: and I con∣fess'd as truly, that 'twas Poyson, I was a tam∣pering. Is there any Father, my Lords, that is unwilling his Son should Poyson himself, and yet believes him, that he will? Who, would believe him, thô he says it himself? If a Father find his Son tampering with Poyson, methinks he should ha' spilt it himself rather; but he stood stock still, fearless and huffy, thô he saw he was like to lose his Son, and thô I was resolv'd and had threatned to destroy my self therewith, yet he would make Page  405me gulp it down presently. Drink it, says he, or I'le pour it down thy Throat. After such a word as that, my Lords, could any body expect, that I should immediatly obey him? If I had don so, I had been gon for ever. Here, O ye Heavens, and hearken O Earth, what, after three Abdica∣tions and as many Complaints, thô they were all disappointed by the Wisedom of your Lordships, what, I say, my Father, like a wild hair-brain'd Man, tells the World; Oh. says he,* my Son is a Savage Fellow, he is a cruel Parricide; he would not drink Poyson, when I bad him. This is all my Offence, forsooth, that I am alive, that I answer him at Law, that I decline not to be tryed by the Court, that I do not fly for't. Now I don't wonder, what 'tis, that makes him fret so impatiently for the disappointment of his Cruelty, besides his joy for my loss, wherein he was disappointed too; 'tis this, he hop'd to destroy me with my own Poy∣son.

But because he thinks, he hath found out an Art to make you believe, that thô he was cast in his former Actions, yet new Causes of Grievance may bear more weight in Court, he hath there∣fore devised unusual Methods. As ever I desire to live any longer, I deny the Crime, he objects a∣gainst me, with the same plain-heartedness and integrity, as I confess'd concerning the Poyson. You accuse me of Parricide, forsooth. Sir, you have cut me off from this part of my defence, to cry out in this place, 'tis impossible such a thing should ever be. I know how much difficulty it adds to my defence, that long since you have forgot pa∣ternal duty to your Child in your own House, but Page  406'tis plainly evident, which of us two is more prone to Impiety, and which of us had rather live, let t'other be never so much in distress. For your part, Sir, you are every day heaving at your only Son, to cast him out of doors; you wou'd be glad to see him an errant Beggar and a very Tatterdemallion, with all your heart. As for me, I kiss those hands, that throw me out in∣to the street, I cling about the knees and legs of him that wou'd kick and spurn me; and to a Fa∣ther, that hates me so mortally, I cou'd ha' no rea∣son to return, but my extraordinary Love. Per∣haps, Sir, the Authority of your paternal Name might have carryed the point against me, if this had been your first Action, about the Poyson: But you have spent already all those Pleas, which may defend Fathers from any suspition of Wickedness. A Father cannot believe any Child of his will be guilty of Parricide, unless it be such an one, that he himself is as willing to destroy. Truly, Father, if any body should ask me concerning the simple and honest ground of my unhappy opinion, I have this to say, that I believe it impossible you would ever destroy me, but with a Poyson of my own Brewing. But a Villany, which is hardly to be believ'd in any relation at all, is yet, I think, much more difficult for a Child to act. You, Fathers, can hurry your Children to their Graves, upon the ac∣count of your Authority; to Murther a Child with you, is but a point of Gravity; you disinberit 'm to make them better,* forsooth: The rest of your Childrens punishments, you vayle under the name of reasonable Corrections; and all your rigid hard-heartedness you guild with a softer Appellation. Page  407We, Children, can't so much as conceive so borrid a Villany in our minds, let our circumstances be what they will, either happy or miserable. Ne∣cessities, even the greatest that are, cannot drive us to so high a wickedness. All Grief and all Pas∣sion flags, before it comes to such desperate at∣tempts. And, Oh Heavens! Is it not much more difficult to be committed without a Complice, with∣out an Assistant, when the whole of the Villany must be intirely perpetrated, only by the Sons hand and heart? Besides, pray consider what horrour such an Immanity would strike into a Man, to say, You wou'd have kill'd your Father. Such an Ac∣cusation receives strength only from this, that he who is catch'd attempting it, must needs be put to death.

That you may know, says he, What I now lay to his charge is true, I had a mind to disinhe∣rit him, before. Pray, Father, don't think to make your obstinacy in complaining, as any kind of Proof against me. You, when you say, My Son wou'd have Murthered me, think, that you raise an Odi∣um upon your former Judges, and cry out, You, forsooth, were too easie, you were too merciful, you sent home my Son to me back again. But 'tis most unjust, that an Action of disinherison, which could not prevail for itself, should procure credit to a greater Crime. This is not the first time, that my modesty hath been tryed in Court; nor is this the first Suit that hath been commenc'd against me, upon the account of the precedent part of my life; 'Tis true, that Mans Innocence is more happy, that never comes under suspicion, but it is made more sure and unquestionable, when it has Page  408stood a Tryal at Law. And as much Infamy as Objections do raise upon a Man, while they are under a probability of proof, so, when they are once clear'd and answer'd, they procure him as much credit. What! De' think, I got the better of my Father in my Suit, upon the account of Favour; and that I overthrew him by my Autho∣rity amongst Old Men, Grave Elders and Parents? Let them look to it, who are so Indulgent to themselves in their Distresses, that they think Fa∣vour and Mercy must be shew'd? to them: But a Son, that is accus'd by his own Father, Can no ways prevail over him, but by the Merits of his Cause. Yet, in earnest, let us grant, that in your first A∣ction to disinherit me, you did not spend all your stock of grief, but you were over-modest, forsooth, to complain of all my faults,* nor could your pa∣ternal Piety in your Old Age call'm all to mind, yet, I trow, your second Actions will make sure work, even to over-measure? You are return'd to Court, now the Judges are angry? With how great terrour were all the Spectators struck, when they saw you so shameless, that after you had been so often beaten, you wou'd again come into the Pit? Grief always grows more eager, after a shameful repulse. Yea, the Judges will brow-beat those more, who come under their cognizance a se∣cond time. How many doth the Authority from the dissimilitude of the decision please, and does not the contrary sentence seem the more se∣vere? But the third Suit, Oh Heavens! What a Clutter did it make; What an Expectation did it raise? For my part, I wonder I had any leave given me to make any defence at all, that in Page  409the very first hubbub, my Brains, had not been knock'd out? After all this, pray, what new Crime can my Father object against me? I am grown Old in a well-regulated Government, I have nothing in my manners or conversation, but the Judges know it better than myself. I beseech you, is such a thing possible in nature, that, he, which will be a Parricide hereafter, should shew no sym∣ptoms of it, before-hand? A Villany, so notorious and immane, does it not use to be ushered in by some puny Offences, as Harbingers thereunto? That sa∣vageness, that is to be expiated by the* Culeus and by Serpents, what, can it lurk under a pleasing frame of Spirit in ones Youth? 'Tis another sort of miserable Persons, that the Clemency and Fa∣vour of the Court doth relieve. Those Persons ac∣quitted me, that knew, 'twould do me no good, that I was not disinherited. Therefore, thô you cry out, I accus'd thee ever and anon, I complain'd against thee many a time, I would have disinheri∣ted thee, thrice; yet all this ought to do no more, than make you not to be believed, if you levy any new Objections against me. For 'tis a plain non-sequitur, good Father, that you should accuse me of what you yourself are guilty; and I must be an Offender, forsooth, because you judge of me by your own naughty self. 'Tis not all your severi∣ty, nor your Cruelty, nor your Terrour, can make me a Parricide; To make me guilty of so great a Crime, you must not bring your own Passion but my Conversation in Evidence; not your grief, but the frame of my spirit. Men are exasperated less, and they hate less, on the account of other inju∣ries. Page  410The revenge of a Son, that's Innocent, is on∣ly to kill himself.

But if it be evident, that there was nothing at that time in my Conversation, that might give any ground of suspicion of Parricide, let us consider then what Cause might afterward arise. Let me here propound a Question to your Lordships, Who, in such circumstances, ought to have had a great∣er regard to Innocency, than myself? I got the better of my Father, it was then a duty incumbent upon me, with might and main, to keep my self in your Lordships good Graces, and to study how to reward my Counsellours, and to pay you your due, by whose favour I can boldly return home; and by whose means I am not afraid of any sudden mishap, or malignant fate, from my Father. 'Tis past all belief, that Three Acquittals in Court should prove me Innocent, and yet make me a Parricide too. Besides, dear Father, my very Casting of you in your Action, how jealous and how fearful doth it make me? Do I not know, that, assoon as I re∣turn'd, the whole House had a watchful and an ill eye upon me; that I live amongst Pick-thanks, who curry Favour with you, by telling Lyes and Stories of their own devising, upon me? But you'l say, perhaps, I may be hurried on to such a Vil∣lany, because I hope to get something by your death. Bur alas? Do I not know, that thô I am sent home upon the account of such another Wicked∣ness, yet I am as much hated by you, as ever? I beseech you, with what confidence can I under∣take such a mischievous Exploit, seeing I have been so often accused of it before, and pointed at as it were, by the Complaint of my Father? What Page  411Plea and Apology can I hope to make for my Par∣ricide? I could make no defence at all, if you had drank the Poyson. Suppose I had a mind to Mur∣ther my Father, suppose I had Cause so to do; yet how should I have an opportunity; or how, the Confidence to attempt it? I cannot so much as dye, but that I must be found our. Can I prepare Poyson, that have no Assistant, nor no Complice, to help to Administer it? The Journey-men despise me, the Apprentices set me at nought, avoid my company, they shun my discourse, they pretend they hate me, out of the Love they bear to you. Pray tell me, de' think it possible, that I can Ad∣minister it, myself? For I, forsooth, may have easie access to you at all times, may I not?* Let me tell you, let these hands of mine give you what they will, you'l say, 'tis nothing but Poyson. And what! Do I prepare such a Poyson as kills immediatly, that seizes and flies out all of a sud∣den? How then can I make the least shadow of defence? Or, was it a slow Poyson, that wasts a Man by Inches, so that you can't presently cry out; nor can't immediatly believe, that you have drank any Poyson, at all? I beseech you, tell me, for whom I prepared that Poyson, which I could give to none, but myself?

But, says he, even this shews thou hadst a Parricidal Intent, because thou hadst Poyson, by thee. I answer, my Lords, all those things that we have about us, whereby wicked attempts may be furthered, and which Mortals ordinarily turn to the worst use, yet nature hath not there∣fore put them in our power, only that we may use them, as the corrupt and guilty minds of some Page  412Men would have us; no, the use of them is good or ill according to the Intent of their Owner; All the good or hurt they do is, as it were, spe∣cificated and comes from the Conscience of him, that possesses them. For, I beseech you, can you prove a Man a Robber, only because he has a Sword about him? You know, Men that are asleep have Swords too, hanging by their Beds-side. If you search any Traveller, you'l find that Fear makes him carry some Weapon or other about him. The Laws don't forbid us to have, or to make provision of such things; they do not pro∣hibit the Weapons themselves, but they direct and regulate their use. Suppose, I should say, as if I were in the Ruff of all my prosperity,* I provided Poyson, that if any sudden hazard, if any weak∣ness, pain, or unfore-seen distress should seize me, I might have it ready at hand, as my last refuge. You need not wonder, if I did so, who have stood a long time as Fortunes Butt, and who have almost wearied out all human Chances; and a∣gainst whom, my Father is brewing another Acti∣on thô he hath been so often cast already. That Son has need to have death in his Power, whose own Father could ha' kill'd him, before.

Again, 'tis no eredible, says he, that thou shouldst be willing to Poyson thyself, when thou wert Acquitted; seeing thou wouldst not do it, when thou wert Accused only: I could tell you in answer, dear Father, I was willing to live, as long as I cou'd conceive any probable hope, that you would at last have some pity upon me, that my woful plight might affect you, that my tears might mitigate you, and that my very paleness Page  413might overcome you; but, pardon my Innocence, I had then need of a pertinacious and stubborn de∣fence. I was willing to live, I say, that People might not report, after I was gon, that I was ta∣ken napping in the highest of Villanies, and that I hurried my self out of the World, that I might not bear the blowing of it. And that you your self might not proclaim over my dead Corps, You see I had cause to fear, 'twas not for nothing that I told you of Poyson, he had not the Confidence to live, to abide the Tryal. That you might not rail at me, when I am gon; and make Objections, when I am not in a Condition, to answer. Yet I shall confess this Truth to you concerning my Impatience, I was not willing to dye when you would disinherit me, upon the same ground, that I would not drink the Poyson when you bad me. But, make your best, Sir, I say, again, make your best of my woful Confession, and because you could not glut your Eye with the sight, you may satisfie your Ears; I confess, I was willing to dye: And, if you will, you may add this further jeer to my mise∣ries, as to ask me, Why, pray, wou'd you re∣nounce and cast me off? What says Natural Pie∣ty to this? Hath not my Grief a juster ground, than any bodily loss, or than the ruin of ones E∣state? My own Father hurries me to destruction: Doth not that one Speech contain all misery, in the Bowels of it? Are not all woes summ'd up in that one Complaint. Perhaps, we may expect some end of other mishaps, but the hatred of Re∣lations never cease. Alliances joyn'd together by bonds of nature, as by Kindred or Brother-hood, they can't be slackned or loos'ned, but they must Page  414be overthrown; those that from their very rise can scarce be master'd and turn'd to the better, and are hardned too in a long course of Wickedness, when they are allow'd, do not presently re∣turn back to their former course, but bending downwards draw all their weight and strength; by that very vigor they increased, when left to themselves, they grow up to the very heigth of vice. All the difficulty lies here, how a Father may begin not to love his Son, for if he once loap over that Block, then all the rest comes on amain; and that which hindred him to hate at first, the same is a bar to the return of his Love: If Children and Parents are once chang'd in their Affections, at the same time the Relation is cancell'd between them. They are happy, who are sensible they have something to correct and amend within 'm. No an∣ger of a Father with his own Children can cease, but that which is grounded on their Faults. What then shall I do, I have no luxury to repent off; nor no petulancy to bewail? And whose Abdi∣cation is grounded not on my own Manners, but my Fathers? In vain do you comfort me, in vain do you sooth me up, with Honey-words. A Man, whose Father never gives over hating him, his only Issue is, to hate himself. But alas! when I come to complain before a Judg in Court, 'tis but a small part of my Grief, I can utter: When I say, my Father hates me, I do as good as proclaim to all the World, that he counts every day a Ho∣ly-day, without me; that there's no Mirth, when I am by; that he never comforts me when I am sad; nor ministers to me, when I am sick and weak. If any Man can tell him of some disaster, Page  415that hath befallen me; if any one do rail and re∣proach me behind my back, Who but He with my Father. If I am able to endure all this, you may well say, I have deserv'd it. There are some Crosses, whose very continuance makes us patient under them, which do firm and barden our minds by their duration. That a Mans Father hates him, 'tis a new Tryal every day. Perhaps when Men arc cross one to another, their natural grudges less affect them, and 'tis some kind of relief to a Man, if he be chid to chid again; No Son can bear a Fathers hatred, but he, who returns hate for hate.

I, poor unhappy Man, my Lords, do ask you, yea I interrogate all Mankind in the Case, what would you have me to do? Without doubt the Issue of my Suit hath discharged me from my In∣dictment, seeing I am acquitted; and yet my dis∣charge hath not taken me off from my desire to dye, it hath only condemn'd me to live still, if I please. For certain, my Lords, I had the worst of it when I was acquitted, and (which is the undeniable weakness of a troubled Soul) I fainted under a piteous kind of Happiness. When I re∣turnd home, pray tell me, how I shall order my Looks, and how, my Spirit? Joy is not fit for me, for my Mirth does exasperate: If I am sad, then my Melancholy offends: If I seek for an opportu∣nity to discourse, than I am hated, as an arrogant Insulter. If I come near, he tells me, I am an Eye-sore to him; if I go farther off, then, for∣sooth, I despise and sleight him. How long shall I have the better of 't? 'Tis plain, they can't be cur'd by Suits of disinherison, who do not present∣ly Page  416give up the bucklers, but stand upon the strict terms of their Innocence; my Father was not cast, now was I acquitted, when I came home, for no body loves me, no body shews any respect to me, there: I can now go to none, but the blind and dark corners of the House. I put not off, nor lay aside my nasty weeds, I think upon my Old Fa∣ther every day, as if he had as accusing a Face, as ever. I am jealous what to do, what to speak, or how to look, and (which is the cursed'st kind of care, than can be) I am fain to set a Guard on my self. Now, Sir, you have sated me, I say, you have sated me with Life. And where∣as even happy Persons are glutted with the conti∣nuance of too much prosperity, what an irksomness do you brew for me, to tire me out in my Mi∣sery? My Age is spent in Tears and Prayers, I pass the day in slavery, and the Night in anxieties. What doth my Innocency hold forth to, ballance such undeserved and burthensom things? That Son ought to be disinherited, that his Father hates, if he be guilty; and he ought to dye if he hate him, being innocent.

But, says my Father, grant that we believe, you were willing to dye, why must you chuse Poyson, a∣bove all, to do the Feat? Truly, Father, you may make the like-quarrel with dying Man, let him chuse what Death he pleases; and because Na∣ture has been so good, as to allow us several ways of Exit out of this Miserable World, you may as well find fault with whatever of them, a Man please to chuse. Thus if I had fallen on a naked sword to kill my self, then you wou'd ha' cryed out, Why had you not made use of Poy∣son, Page  417rather? But nothing is more nice, than such an Exit, that is not occasioned by legal Punish∣ment or by Fear, but proceeds from weakness of Spirit, grounded on the Miseries of Life. For my part, I have a greater and a more particular kind∣ness for a death by Poyson, than any other way: It sheds no Blood; it does not leave the Corps dis∣mal and gastly to look upon; 'tis a quiet, and an easie kind of death. O thou most ungrateful of all Aged Fathers, I took care in dying so, that no body else might have been thought to ha' kill'd me. And now, I think, Father, I have got you at a lock, I make bold to interrogate you. What! Can I be a Parricide, who brought Poyson into your House unprepar'd, as 'twere in the Oar, and such as had need of Compounding, still; and that must have a great deal more don to it, before it can be administred? Can I be a Parricide, that seek to hide my self in your own House, that answered you so plainly and so readily about a Potion, that you knew nothing of before, and which no body had complain'd to you about? I got me to a room into the middle of the House; I set no body, to watch at the door, to keep folks out; I car'd not who passed by, I shut out no Comers at all. I beseech you, are these signs that I would have Murthered you, and not rather, that I would ha' kill'd myself. If I had prepared the Poyson for you, you wou'd ha' found it hid close in some hole or corner, you would have found me astonished about it, and as pale as a Clout, my words would have been bro∣ken, my sighs trembling, and to be sure I should ha' denyed it. If a real Parricide had been catch'd, Page  418he would ha' spilt the Poyson, that he might not have confess'd it.

But why then, says he, if you had provided it for yourself, would you not drink it off? I'le an∣swer you, Father, in brief, and according to the condition of human Nature: There is nothing else in the power of the Miserable, but to be willing to dye. Yet when I say, I am willing to dye, I do not say, I must of necessity dye immediatly. I an∣swer according to my own resolution, I do not pro∣mise what Fate will do. Do you wonder, that thô I have Poyson ready at hand, yet many things may fall out between the Cup and the Lip? We see sometime a Man is run quite thorough the bo∣dy with a Sword, and his very Life despair'd of, and yet he miraculously recovers. Some Men have had the Rope about their Necks, and yet either the nooze ha's slipt, or the very Fall of their bodies has broken it; when others have been to be thrown down a Precipice, the very spring of their bodies has freed them. 'Tis as fit, he should not dye that is willing, as that we dye against our wills: But I had rather deal with you by plain reason, as I have begun. There is nothing, Father, that consists so much in an Impetus or Effort, as to be willing to dye. And Nature knows nothing more impatient, than the Passion of a dying Man. If you wou'd retain this, 'tis sufficient that you are willing to dye; he that takes away the ardour of death from a Man, takes a∣way the reason of it too. He that chops in upon a Man, in that case, interrupts and breaks off his ea∣gerness; he that doth but speak two words to him doth divert and hinder him. Every minutes stop Page  419doth as it were supplicate for Life. And there∣fore 'twas, to deal plainly with you, that I chose such a private place to do my business in. The least thing in the World will trouble a Man, when he dyes through weakness; and the smallest causes of all do make that death displeasing, which a poor Mans Innocency persuades him too. What if one should step in, that would rejoyce at it? What if he thinks to revenge it? If he be an Eye-wit∣ness, that should be grudg'd such a sight? Then presently, forsooth, his arrogant Life will be blamed, and his contumacious grief will disagree with his death, when 'tis found out. You don't know how much hesitation you occasion, while you interrogate me, and force me to answer you. And he that thou makest to give thee an Answer, thou givest him opportunity to abide another Suit, and to make another Plea. As for me, at that time all manner of Passions seized upon me at once, as Indignation, filial duty, paternal reve∣rence, and grief. I can dye for my Father, but I cannot dye before him. Add hereto, your perem∣ptory words, Drink it. In earnest, if when I had been wounded and panting for Life, you had com∣manded me to thrust the Sword further in, I would have shut up my Wounds, and laboured to keep in my departing Soul; if you had bid me hang my self in a Halter, ready prepar'd, I wou'd have endeavoured to have broke the rope and leap down; if when I was running in post hast to throw my self down a Precipice, and you did lay no hands on me to pull me back, I would have directed my course to the Champain of my own accord. 'Twas with great reason, O my Page  420Soul, that thou didst long for secrecy and solitude. But in comes a Father, and now I am undon, my eagerness to perfect my death is at an end, and he discharges me of a double Passion; for I ought not to dye, if he forbid it; and I cannot dye, if he command it. Off with it, says he. But stay, the poysonous Drug is not yet put into the draught; but you apprehend me for the nonce, because I was yet but a pounding it. Alas, Father, there are many things to be done, before I drink it, I must call first all the Slaves; together, and then all the Li∣berti or Journey-men, I must make my moan to 'm, I must complain, I must leave them something in charge, I must make my defence. Drink it off! At the tail of that word I thought you had ad∣ded, now thou art catch'd, now thou art non-plust, let's away to the Court. Drink it off, say you! Perhaps, Sir, you bid me do it, as if I denyed it to be Poyson. My Lords, let me ask you as if you had been present in that secret appartiment, what frame of Spirit, what courage, de' think I could have, after such a word as that? 'Tis my Accuser that says it, 'tis, he says it, that was cast before, he says it in secret, he says it so that he might have denyed it, if I had taken it off at his bidding. Take it off! Sir, I'le do it with all my heart, and I pro∣vided it for no other purpose but that, but you, with your grey-hairs, are so over-eager upon me, that you have quite chang'd my mind. Drink it off, say you! What else have you now to do, but to pull my Chops asunder, if I refuse so to do, as you bid me? Or, that you pour it down my throat, even thô I lift up both my hands to oppose you? In this struggle, I had e'ne quite forgot, Page  421what I had resolved to do, I had forgot what I was preparing. I saw, you look'd so fierce upon me the first word you spake; and your very counte∣nance was so bent and set upon accusing me of Par∣ricide, that I e'ne thought you had bid me drink Poyson, even of your own brewing. You did not know the way, Father, I say again, you did not know the way, how to keep up my pertinacious resolutions. When your Son was resolv'd to dye for your sake in a Corner, you, forsooth, must find him out. What, will he kill himself? Do you forbid him; pluck the Cup out of his hand, that he may not take down or drink the Fatal dose. Cry out, O thou rash Fellow, what art thou a doing? Hold thy hand, now I am angry with thee no longer, now we are perfect Friends again. Yet I'le make hast to do the Do, that my Ears may carry this sound along with them, and that my Eyes may be somewhat pleased with your Impa∣tience. You may impute it to yourself, that you have retorted upon me, and that you have made me forget all my solemn vows to destroy myself. An Innocent Man can dye with more ease, if he be de∣sired to live. Oh Heavens! Into what stubborn∣ness of Spirit, into what fiery quarrelsom humour did you cast me, when you said to me, Drink it off. I could hardly tell, whether 'twere best live or dye. Poor heart, I was almost beside my self, I was astonished at such an unexpected Command, I stood stock still as one quite stupid, without any power so much as to deny it, so amazed and transported was I, so that I had almost kill'd my self another way. For certain there is nothing more surprising than sudden and unthought of grief, Page  422for when our minds are already weakned with striving against our miseries, when new onsets come, they quite undo us. After this I could not find words to make my complaint, nor had I a vent for Tears. It suffices for no undertaking, to dye at another Mans pleasure, and with his own Poy∣son. Thô therefore you ply me with a bundle of new Indictments, yet it repents me not, I say it re∣pents me not, to have slackned that ardour and eagerness to dye: I did dye as a Parricide. My Fa∣ther, who complains I did not drink it, would now say, he was taken in the Fact, he cannot deny it. I should now be addicated three times, and he would urge, that I dar'd not for my ears re∣turn into the Court again. 'Twas well that I spilt the Poyson, as if I had a mind to live again. That Poyson that is found out in secret, no Man ever will be thought to drink it, because he had provided it for himself. You'l say now perhaps, That I would not have suffered you, if you had shew'd yourself willing to drink it; and you prove it, since that, by a very good Argument, forsooth: You seek my Life, even now. You wou'd not have suffered is! Pray, did you ever lay hands upon me to hinder me? You might as easily have done that, as to bid me drink it. You would not ha' suf∣fered it, wou'd ye! And further, you were not afraid, lest even the sense I had of your Command should raise up in me a desire to destroy my self. 'Tis a Crime in me, if I dye, that it may be que∣stioned afterwards,* whether you wou'd ha' kill'd me or no? Thô you, forsooth, endeavour to take off the Odium of that word, by pretending ano∣ther Frame of Spirit, yet the very Experiment Page  423shews a Murtherous Intent. Nor is there any great difference in point of Cruelty, whether you suffer a thing to be don, or essay to do it your self. That Father will never be moved with the actual death of his Son, that is not moved with his readiness to dye.

My Lords, what shall I now do to his pertina∣cious rigor? To what kind of Mould of Patience, shall I cast myself? You see a Man, that no po∣sture at all of my Spirit can change; he takes offence at my constancy, and he is as much offen∣ded with my soft-heartedness and infirmity. If I am willing to live, he takes me by head and shoulders and throws me out of doors: If I endeavour to dye, then he stops and vexes me. Yea perhaps, he hath prepared and invented something against me, even this very day, if your Lordships Clemen∣cy should be willing to releive me. What end, what issue is there of my unspeakable miseries? Of a Son that was Acquitted, he has made me wil∣ling to dye; of a Son, that was a dying, he has made me willing to live. But, with what Mo∣tives and with what Prayers shall I make my Ad∣dress to your most upright Lordships? Your poor unhappy Client, your thrice acquitted Defendant, is forbid so much as to shed a Tear. He has not so much Favour, as to fall down at your Feet so of∣ten; he hath wearied out your Compassion already, and yet he brings before a new pressing Grievance. O death! who standest always aloof of from the Miserable, who stoppest thy Ears to those that de∣sire thy Company, When wilt thou relieve me? Wo is me, poor Youth, I have lost the fruit of my Poyson. And yet, Father, seeing I have put you Page  424at least in some kind of hope, pray don't whol∣ly despair. But before I am dead and buried, take some comfort in this Speech of mine, You have overthrown me at Law. 'Tis true, I know not yet what other kind of death I shall chuse, or whe∣ther it were best for me to get any more of that unlucky Poyson. But this I proclaim, and be∣seech, that which way soever I resolve to go out of the World, take so much pity of me, as not to command me; take so much pity, as not to enforce me. Your Groans and your Tears wou'd kill me a great deal sooner. And that you may not think I have forgot that word, you uttered to me in secret, I tell you, thô I cou'd not drink the Poy∣son at your bidding, yet your very bidding of me so to do, will one time or other most certainly be my Death.