The Earle of STRAFFORDS GHOST, Complaining of the crueltie of his Countrey men in killing one another.
WHat ſtill at it Countrey men? Do's your thirſt increaſe with your drunkennes? Will nothing cure your dropſie but a generall devaſtation? Are not your veines yet dry enough? Is not the earth moiſt enough with your blood? I little thought ye had lov'd me ſo dearly, that for my ſake ye would have all bled to death as I did; and indeed had I miſtruſted any ſuch matter, I would for your ſakes have beene honeſt in ſpight of Honour, and have liv'd to give my Soveraigne better counſell. O the guilt that ſticks upon my ſad ſoule will never be waſh'd off with theſe ſhowers of blood and teares, ſpare them deare Countrey men, ſheath not your ſwords in one another bowels till there be none left to puniſh, nor any to periſh: pray make not me your example. Alas, I was a mightie Malefactour, you are innocent; I died becauſe I was guiltie, do not you make your ſelves guiltie by dying. Indeed I was made an Inſtrument i'my life time to ſet theſe warres o'foot: for which my afflicted Ghoſt (haunted with horrour) can take no reſt, as long as they continue; ther's not a man falls, nor a wound given but I am ſenſible of it, I ſmart for't, ſo cloſely am I follow'd by Divine Juſtice, for betraying Innocency. Conſider O yee Mortalls that live i'the ſame ſtate I died in, what I might have been, and what I am; how bravely I might have liv'd, how wretchedly I died, and how juſtly I am tormented. Survay the courſe I ran, and ſhun it; keepe from the Court, 'tis infectious; be not bewitch'd with the vaine hope of greatnes; purchaſe not honour with diſhoneſtie,3 leſt your lives and fames periſh together, and your Ghoſts hereafter affright your poſteritie with diſmall apparitions, and the fearefull Relations of theſe bloodie broiles.
And O King, I muſt not flatter thee now, nor need I; I am out of thy power! Looke upon thy owne worke, and conſider how other Kings liv'd and died, and what fame follow'd 'em that gave their minde•to Tyrannie, to crueltie, to murther. Haſt never an honeſt man about thee to lay theſe things before thee? none but villaines at thy elbow ſtill, that ſeeke the ruine of thee and all thy Kingdomes? why where are all thy Biſhops now? thou't heare them; they can (if they pleaſe) tell the ſtrange and true Stories of the lives of thy Predeceſſors; they have bin forward enough to bring thee on; wher's now their wiſedome and learning, their zeale and affection, their power and pollicie to bring thee off againe? What good have their counſels done thee? Poore Ireland's deſolate, England's deſperate, and Scotland's in danger; and can thy Biſhops make thee beleeve that thy perſon is in ſafety, when thy three Kingdoms are a fire about thy eares? or that the Prince may proſper, when his people periſh? Truſt'em no longer King, they f••tter thee for their own ends, and feare onely their owne falls, and that makes 'em endeavour to perſwade thee that the Miter and the Crowne are inſeparable; They love thee for their owne honours not for thine; for the benefit of Rome, not of England, they deſire thou ſhould'ſt live to be ſubject to them, rather then thy people ſhould live to be ſubject to thee, and therefore according to their owne law and honeſtie theſe inhumane Maſſacres and Murders are cryed up, and kept up by their care and counſell as convenient and neceſſary: Wher's little Land, and great Canterbury all this while, do's the Tower ſtill keepe that grace and goodneſſe together? Hath the holy man wrought ſo many miracles, that they cannot all this while be reckon'd up, and ſet downe in a Chronicle? I have look'd long for him, and wonder he ſhould be ſo ſlow to follow mee, that was ſo forward to ſend me packing. O how carefull he was at our firſt acquaintance to get me into favour at Court, and make mee acquainted with a Duke of his owne condition, that I might be hanſomly handl'd betwixt 'em, and ſcrew'd up into a capacitie of furthering Court deſignes, and abuſing the Common-wealth. He tooke a great deale of paines to make me a great Counceller, that he might with the leſſe pains bring me and the Kingdom to nothing; I muſt forſooth be converſant with my King and flatter him, this (he told me) would bring me along by the path of preferment to the honour I aim'd at; ſo I follow'd his advice and proſper'd: My carriage and my councells were ſo approv'd of, that I was held a fit man to be a Governour Away I went for Ireland, where (my ſwelling thoughts appearing4 in my countenance) I ſoon purchaſed (to the ſatisfaction of my ſoul) the reſpect of a Prince. What was then to be done? Meane actions are not fit for mightie men, I muſt exceed my Predeceſſors, and I muſt pleaſe my Soveraigne, all fell out according to mine own heart, for I could not doe the one, but I muſt needs doe the other; ſo I preſently bent my endeavours to ſubvert the laws I lik'd not, and made (for mine own advantage) what laws I liſted. The power of a Prince would no longer content me, ſo that I cauſ'd many times the beſt men to be puniſh'd by the hands of the baſeſt, on purpoſe to have my actions grac'd with the name of tyranie. This was the Government I aim'd at, and to maintaine this, I made bold (by His Majeſties leave) to compell the people (by force of Armes) to obedience. Thus their lives and liberties were at my diſpoſure, honour and wealth came flowing in upon me, and ambition told mee I had found out the true way to be great, and happy. But for all this I was not unmindfull of the worke I was put upon, I ſtuck cloſe to my maine buſines, the riſe of the Papiſts muſt be the ruine of the Proteſtant, and whether I have not prov'd faithfull in that, let the world judge: But O monſtrous ingratitude! how am I rewarded? O ye Iriſh, Engliſh, and Scot'ſh Catholike Gentlemen, what affront have I given you? if your owne plots have wrought your own deſtructions, what's that to me? I ſpent my life in your quarrell, and now for my paines I am toſſed from one ſide to another, and not ſuffered to reſt in my grave; which way have I deſerv'd this? Wherein have I been diſobedient to his Majeſtie, or croſſe to any of your wicked Counſells? What have I done to purchaſe reproach on your part? nay, what have I not done to merit your love and favour? Did I not in my life time bring on the buſines bravely? Was it not I that arm'd the Iriſh Catholikes, and diſarm'd the Proteſtants, on purpoſe to make you happie (if heaven had had a minde to't?) Was it not I that indeavour'd to make the Engliſh and Scottiſh Proteſtants worke themſelves into a weake condition, by ſetting the two Nations together by the eares, when Arundell, Digby, Cottington, Windebank, &•. had made way for the Spaniſh ſecond Armado to ſecond the buſines? 1639. Was it not I that laid huge taxes, and impoſ'd great ſums upon many Townes and houſes in Ireland, and forc'd payment by my ſouldiers in a warlike manner? Did not I with my Troopes compell divers great Lords and Gentlemen there, to forſake their own poſſeſſions, and yeeld up their rights i'their livings contrary to Law and Juſtice? Did not I am many other unlawfull and unconſcionable enterpriſes enhaunce the rates of al cuſtomarie commodities, and make reſtraint of their tranſportation at my pleaſure, and all to bring in money to maintaine the (then) intended Rebellion, and the wars like to5 follow it? Did not I alſo (for the ſame cauſe) become the onely Merchant of Tobacco in Ireland, as his Majeſtie did of Gunpowder in England? The ingroſſing of two ſuch commodities by a King and his Ʋice-ray, are worthy the worlds obſervation. Did I not beſides reſtore your Frieries and Maſſe-Houſes, and force a new Oath upon the Proteſtant to tie him to the obſervation of all Church Ceremonies in uſe for the preſent, or to be hereafter eſtabliſhed by his Majeſties authoritie? Did not Canterbury and I (when we perceiv'd we could not couſin the Parliament of ſo many Subſidies, as we thought would ſerve our turnes to undoe the Kingdome) cauſe it to be broke up, and did I not then promiſe his Maieſtie to bring downe the ſturdy ſtomacks of His people by my Iriſh Catholike Armie? Did I not further perſwade his Majeſtie to reviue the levying of Shipmoney, and to puniſh many Sheriffes of the Counties, about that and other payments for being obſtinate honeſt men? And did I not threaten the Lord Maior and Sheriffes of London at the Councell-Table, for not yeelding to a buſines of the like nature? Was not I the cauſe of ſome of the Aldermen of Londons commitments, for not diſcovering the abilities of their neighbou•s. And were not all theſe things done for your ſakes? Yes, yee know they were, and yee lik'd 'em well enough, and mee too all the vvhile yee proſper'd. VVhen the Rebellion in Ireland grew to ſuch a height, that yee ſuppoſed no power could hinder your conqueſt: when ye were either bloody actors, willing ſpectators, or joyfull hearers of the Stories of thoſe horrid maſſacres; and when the men, money, and Armes, ſent over by the Parliament (his Majeſtie deſiring it) againſt the Rebells, were again (by your counſells) at his Maieſties command, made uſe of by the Rebells againſt the Proteſtants, then were my actions of high eſteem, and my Name was famous amongſt you. O you Romane Catholike Courtiers, you that are ſtill mighty men with his Majeſtie, can you not worke your wills in England yet? No new project? No quaint device to cleere the Kingdome of Proteſtants? Did I begin to work ſo handſomly, and can you not goe forward; can you not finiſh't? Have not the lazie Iriſh done their worke at home yet, that they may move with a full body, and make an end of their Tragedie here, to you•eternall content! But oh —! Eternall did I ſay? Did you with your clamours raiſe me from my grave, to have my counſell? Did you in ſerious ſadneſſe? take it then: proceed not in theſe dangerous and damnable courſes, except ye have no ſoules, or know no God; remember the word Eternall! and be confident, that ſuch works as you are now in hand with, cannot be finiſhed in this world. Y'are content for the preſent to hear of the cruell ſlaughter of your innocent Countrey-men, and think your ſelves ſafe under6 the wings of your Soveraigne; but the more ſecurity, the more danger: Take heed ye be not couzen'd of your lives, as I was; remember the word Eternall, and make preparation for a better world, before y•leave this, that's the worſe for ye, and growes weary of ye: Be acceſſary to no more blood, y'ave waded deep already, conſider my condition, that am hurried (as in a whirl-wind) from one place to another, now I am in York, ſtraight in London, by and by in Ireland, and in every place ſuffer varietie of afflictions, according to my crimes: Here I am plagu'd for my bad Councells, there for my worſe actions; in one place for my Ambition, in another for my luxurie; but every where for being acceſſary to this h•lliſh Plot, of murthering Chriſtians. In York I am much tormented, in London more, in Ireland moſt of all; where many times, as in a Theater, the bloody Tragedies I made way for in my life time, are preſented to my view. The lamentable cries of my own Countrey-men inhumanely murthered, affright me on one ſide, and the damnable oathes and execrations of the perfidious Rebells terrifie me on the other. The high wayes and fields are ſtrew'd with mangl'd Carcaſes, ſome dead, o pittifull, ſome dying, o miſerable, but many lame and wounded, lie gaſping and groaning, expos'd to the lingring rage of cold and hunger, O intollerable! Sometimes I meet with hundreds of men, women, and children ſtark naked, running from one death to meet another, as rather truſting to the fury of froſt and ſnow, then to the mercy of the inſulting Enemy. Theſe are no ſooner out of my view, but as many more (betraid by promiſe of quarter) are rob'd and ſtrip'd in my ſight, by a crew of periur'd villaines, that ſhow they are uncapable of mercy themſelves, by denying mercy to Innocents that beg it. I have bin forc'd to behold with horror, as I am now to report with paine, the eruelty exercis'd upon Miniſters by Monſters; ſome I have ſeen cut in pieces, ſome whipt, ſome hang'd up, cut down, quarter'd, and their mouthes ſtop'd with their members; others I have ſeen hang'd, and their fleſh pull'd from their bones in the ſight of their wives, and ſome tyed to tre•s, whil'ſt the baſeſt of the rabble have raviſhed their wives and daughters before their faces, and then hang'd up their parents in the ſight of their children.
I have ſeen men and women ſet upon burning hot Gridirons, and others tortur'd by clapping hot Tongs to their hands and feet to make 'em diſcover their hidden Treaſure.
Young virgins have been bound and raviſhed by the Rebells, whereof ſomo have had their tongues cut out, that the cruelty might be conceal'd, and others been ſcript, and turn'd naked amongſt the common Souldiers.
I have beheld young infants roſted upon ſpits before their Parents faces,7 whilſt they have been tyed in Chaires, and forc'd to be wofull ſpectators of their childrens inhumane tragedier, and expecters of their own: then the wife has bin ſtript, and forc'd in the ſight of her husband, and at laſt the huſband••s'd of the intollerable torment he ſuffered in (ſeeing all this) by being murdered.
I have beheld women with child rip'd up after they have been raviſh'd and the children ſlung into the fire; ſome I have ſeen hang'd, and ſome dragg'd up and down the ſtreets by the haire of the head; and I have ſeen children toſſ'd into the water with Pitchforkes, the braines of ſome daſh'd againſt the poſts, and others ſnatch'd out of their mothers Armes, and burnd before their faces; amongſt theſe, and thouſands, the like barbarous cruelties, and murthers, I have beheld ſome throwne upon dunghills with their guts half out, that have not been able with their wofull cries and lamentations to move ſo much pittie in the mercileſſe murtherers, as to put 'em out of their pain.
And what think ye now? are theſe commendable Actions? are theſe pleaſant objects? is all this done for the grace of Chriſtianity, or the glory of his Maieſtie! Was ever Religion ſought, or bought with ſo much blood, or abſolute Soveraignty with ſuch infinite ſlaughter! And are ye not ſatisfyed yet? not yet weary? not yet aſhamed ▪ d'ye ſuppoſe that ye have not yet made work enough for a Chronicle, that your childrens children will be amaz'd to read? and bluſh when they ſhall find i'the Margent, that all this blood was ſpilt by the pernitious counſells of their graceles grandfathers! Are the miſeries of Ireland nothing, unleſſe England ſmart in the ſame degree? O I am rack'd and tortur'd, poor England ſuffers in a farre higher nature, and is hardly ſenſible of it: Alas, in Ireland the Papiſts only kill the Proteſtants, the Iriſh murther the Engliſh, but heere the Engliſh kill the Engliſh, the Proteſtant murders the Proteſtant, there the greateſt part of them that are kill'd, are women and children, heere the beſt men are pick't out, and arm'd to kill one another.
This is your device Digby, your craft Cottington, your policie Porter; what the Iriſh Rebells, Engliſh Papiſts, and the Biſhops cannot doe, to promore Popery, muſt be done by the Proteſtant himſelf; when this plot was firſt contriu'd i'the Devils fencing-ſchool, ſome of ye plaid your Maſterprize there. But to what end have ye taken all this paines? where are your hopes (for all this) of working your wills, and advancing their Papall Monarchie? How much the neerer are you to the good you aime at, by doing all this miſchief! O for ſhame give over, lay by your wicked reſolutions, theſe courſes will neither purchaſe happineſſe heere, nor heaven hereafter. Hark how the Rebells rave, as if they were in hell already, you6 have vndone 'em, their Liberties, Lands and Lives are all forfeited through your unhappy counſels, this is their clamour. Your own Countrey men the Papiſts are growne ſenſible now at length of your ſhamefull proceedings, and curſe your plots and practiſes, d'ye not heare 'em? And the King whom you threatn'd to make Mightie by killing his Subiects, is brought into ſuch ſtreights by your ſtratagems, that hee dares not doe what hee ought, nor find fault with that hee likes not, what thinke ye of this, are yee not in a fine condition? and how will yee recover? your favourers ſuſpect you, and your favourites hate you, what will become of you? O wretched men, why doe ye ſtill trouble the world, that would be ſo glad to be rid of yee! ther's nothing in't but vanitie and villanie, and ye know ye muſt part with't ſhortly; the Courts of Kings cannot give perperuall protection to their unhappie inhabitants. I was great enough, and good enough to be a Courtier, and yet I fell in the height of my glorie. Come away. But let me not forget the Parliament, that remembers mee no queſtion.
Noble Lords and Gentlemen, though it will ſeeme ſtrange to the world that I ſhould comply now, who have beene ſo averſe in my life time, yet I cannot but acknowledge my thankfulneſſe to you for freeing your Countrey of the danger my longer life would have made it lyable to. I confeſſe I would faine have liv'd ſtill, that you might have periſhed; but as ſoone as yee had tooke off my head, my minde was alter'd. If the reſt that are ſicke of the ſame diſeaſe were cur'd i'the ſame manner, 't would be happie for England. My abode is very ſolitary, and I am inclin'd to Melancholy, pray ſend me ſome company: but in the meane time that I may with the more eaſe beare my affliction, go forward ſtill with courage in your admirable worke of preſerving two diſtreſſed Kingdomes. Truſt men as you know 'em, and relieve not all particular perſons according to their wants, but their merits: for there are many pretend they have been robb'd by the Rebels, that are little better then the Rebels that robb'd 'em, they make ſuit for maintenance, when they meane miſchiefe; their malice is ſo great they cannot hide it. 'Tis ſtrange we o'the other world, ſhould know more then you doe in this: but I cannot ſtay now to make any further diſcovery, my houre limited is expir'd, harke, I am call'd, I come, I come.