The Bloody downfall Of

  • Adultery.
  • Murder,
  • Ambition,

At the end of which are added Westons, and Mistris Turners last Teares, shed for the Murder of Sir Thomas Ouerbury poysoned in the Tower; who for the fact, suffered deserued execution at Tiburne the 14. of Nouember last. 1615.

Mercy Sweet Jesus.

Printed at London for R. H. and are to be sold at his shop at the Cardinalls Hat without Newgate.

Mistris Turners Teares, for the Murder of Sir Thomas Ouerbury who was poysoned in the Towre of London.

IF euer Teares fell from a Wretches eyes,
I am that Creature: waues on waues do rise,
So fast, and swel so high they drowne my soule,
In her owne Crimes as numberlesse as foule.
Oh had my Cradle beene my sodaine Graue,
In Peace my Soule had slept, which is a slaue
Now both to sinne and shame: I had not then
Been of God hated and so scornd of Men
Vnhappy was the Wombe that lent me breath,
Would it had bin the Charnell-house of Death,
Had I bin stifled there, then had my slight
To Heau'n bin like a Doues, with wings more white.
O would to God the Day when I was borne,
Had from the Calender of time beene torne,
Where now it stands accursed, and does beare
The marke of a most fatall Character.
Many a Widdow reading there my name,
Will curse it, and the leafe that holds the same,
Children as yet vnborne, comming to spell,
Will take it for a Furies name in Hell.
And casting by the Booke no more will reade,
But onely learne to heape vppon my head
VVishes of mischeefe though in Graue I lye,
For to confound mee euerlastingly.
But leauing this, let my sad Story tell,
Both from what height I fall, & how I fell:
That though time present does not mone my state
Yet times to come may pitty my hard fate.
My birth was faire, my bringing vp was good,
My dayes were golden in my widdow hood,
And might haue been so still, but climbers hye,
Beyond their reach must downe, and so doe I.
Plenty and I at board together state,
I fed with Diues dranke in ritchest plate:
VVore ritch attires, tasted all worldly pleasure,
But ne're had care to hoord vp head'nly treasure
VVith Eue I might haue liu'd in Paradice,
But that a Serpent did my Soule intice
To touch forbidden fruit, which relish'd well
In chewing, but be [...]ng downe it smelt of Hell.
Twas not one onely Apple to deuoure,
For which I long'd: my hunger gap'd at more,
At a whole tree I look'd: it was a Tree,
Me thought the goodliest mortall eyes could see.
This Tree I climb'd, and as I pluckt it grew,
Still fresh and fresh, the boughs were euer new;
The branches euer greene, bushy and faire,
It seem'd the Darling both of sunne and ayre.
But when my Soule lookt vp with open eyes,
I saw the top bough brauing euen the skies:
VVhen the root stuck in Hell, where looking in
I knew it then to be the tree of sinne.
And though my Conscience told me I should fall,
If that I leand to: nothing could appall
My setled resolution, I would on,
Though still before me stood damnation.
From this I pluckt the guilded fruit of pride,
Like Queen-apples they shew'd, for euery side
VVas ruddy and alluring, but (what trust
Is in vaine earth) being to [...]cht they turne to dust.
From this I suckt Enchantments which drinke well,
And luscious sweet, yet prou'd the milke of hell,
Hence did I gather poysonous drugges to kill
Such as withstood my friends, or crost my wil.
Lust often lay within my widdowed sheetes,
And taught me how to tast vnbidden sweetes,
And that toward hell I might go one step furder
The last and worst I went into was murder.
O crying sinne, which smothered nere so deep,
In caues, which silent night her selfe does keep,
Bound vp in darknes, like the steeme of Hell
which none can peirce, yet the blaack deed to tell.
Euen graues of dead men rotten long agoe
VVill open wide: Vengeance walks often slow
To our weak sight, but when to Strike it stands,
On Heau'ns high Tower, it hath 3 1000. hands.
Th' Almighties Arrowes fly both sure & strong
And where they hit great Oakes fall all along,
No hidden mark but stands within his eic,
And that he cleaues, when forth his wrath does flie.
Witnesse my selfe and others, who desying,
The busiest searching Sunbeam from discrying:
Where Villany lay lurking, wrapd in cloudes,
so safe we thought as dead men in their shrouds
When to Mans Sence twas as imposible,
Mountaines to moue, as find a tongue durst tel
Our buried plots, See they are rent and torne,
By Gods least finger; and we left in Scorne.
Our maskes pluckd off our faces now appeare,
Such as they are indeed, not as they were,
Plaine on our browes are our close mischiefes writ
Who most did hide, now most discouer it.
The Wolues are caught in snares; the shepherd now,
Knows that a Lamb was flain, by whom & how,
The blood of whom by cruell friend so spilt,
Flowes like a Sea, yet washes off no guilt.
If any aske mee, why I was so led,
And why so neere to hell I ventured,
I was bewitch'd, for what I did behold,
Was a most bitter Pill, but wrap'd in gold.
That liquorish baite intic'd me take it downe,
As wholesome Phisick, but (with shāe) tis known
No poison can so soone destroy the Soule,
The out-side glorious, but the inside foule.
O Gold! thou glittering diuell that confouridest
The Richest, Fairest, Strongest, wisest, Soundest,
Would God, as He to Indians is vnknowne,
That so their Droffy God were theirs Alone.
Soules would not tumble then so fast to Hell,
Nor of my Fall should I this Story tell,
Terror to Soule and Body, had not heauen,
To Sinnes more high and horrid, pardon giuen.
Pardon of thee (sweet Iesus) then I craue,
What thou hast Bought and Payd for deerely Saue
Men let me beg forgiuenes from you too,
Because I did more then my Sex should doe.
And you of Modest dames that be are the note,
And my black Name quite from your tables blot,
As I am lost, so let my fault I craue,
And write Obliuion on my wretched Graue.
You Fathers whom of Children I bereaue,
You Children whom of Parents I deceaue,
You Wiues whom Husband les my Guilt does make,
Forgiue me All: of All this Leaue I take.
Heauen frownes to looke vpon me and my Sin,
Earth trembles that by her I fed haue bin:
My very breath poysons the Aire abont me,
Hell onely is within me, and without me.
Yet in despite of Hell, from Heauen comes down,
Mercy I see holding a glorious Crown,
Of immortality ouer my faint head,
Iesus in that and thee I'me Comforted.
Strengthen my weake heart, Death is fearefull grim,
One finger of thy Hand can vanquish him,
Giue to my fleeting Soule a prosperous gaile;
That I to Blest Ierusalem may Saile.

A Prayer made by Mistris Turner, the night before her Suffering Death.

VVIth Mary Magdalene, I kneele (O Iesus) at thy feete, which I wash with the teares of a peniten­tiall bleeding heart, dry them vp againe with the Sighes of my afflicted Soule, O my sweet Sauiour what pretious bloud didst thou pay in ransome to fetch my Soule out of euerlasting Death and Hell? And how (for a golden bribe) haue I sold that loue of thine, and my owne Saluation? I am vndone for euer, for since I could speake the Name of God, or his blessed Sonne, I did ne­ner speake or doe any thing that was worthy of Heauen. What haue I not beene, that in the world is Euell, and what is now in me, that I dare call Good? My youth was Licentious, my Age wicked, my Latter daies offensiue and odious to God and Man. Yet notwithstanding (Hea­uenly Father) Since my Repentant Soule comes crying to Thee for Mercy, as before my Sinnes cryed to Hea­uen for Vengeance: bow downe I beseech thee thine care: dry vp my Sorrowes with thy beames of Grace. I haue not knowne thee, nor neuer reguarded thy Sacred word, yet (O Lord) shut me not out of Heauen, because it is a broken, wounded, and oppressed heart that knock­eth at thy gates of Pitty. Let not my name be blooted out of thy booke of Life, but set the Seale on my forehead, that I may be knowne to be one of Thine. I defire not to liue in this World (of which I am weary, as that is of me) but onely in thy Kingdome: to the intent I may change my bloody garments, for a roabe of Immortality: Com­fort me in my Combat of Death, take dispaire from mine cies, see an Angell to guard me, Help me, Strengthen mee, Hasten me to my home, and let that dwelling be with thee for euer and euer. I come deere Redeemer, I come, into thy blessed Hands I commend my Spirit.

Master VVestons Teares, for the Murder of Sir Thomas Ouerbury who was poysoned in the Towre of London.

GOD of my Soule and Body, haue mercy vpon mee: the one I haue cast way by my folly, & the other is likely to perish in thy Fury, vnlesse in thy great mercy thou Saue it. My Sinnes are deepe Seas to drowne mee; I am swallowed vp in the bottomles Gulph of my owne transgressions. With Caine I haue beene a Murderer, and with Iudas a Betrayer of the Innocent. My body is a Slaue to Sathan, and my wretched Soule is deuowred vp by Hell. Black haue bin my thoughts, and blacker, are my deeds. I haue beene the Diuells instrument, and am now become the Scorne of Men, a Serpent vpon earth, and an Out-cast from Heauen. What therefore can be­come of me (miserable Catiffe;) if I looke vp to my Re­deemer, to him I am an Arch Traitor, if upon Earth, it is drowned with Blood of my shedding, if into Hell, there I see my Conscience, burning in the Brimstone lake. God of my Soule and Body haue mercy therefore vpon mee, Saue me, O saue me, or else I perish for euer, I die for euer in the world to come, vnlesse (sweet Lord) thou catch­est my repentant Soule in thine Armes; O saue mee, saue me, saue me.


you that are desirous to see the Reward of the Adulterer and the Adulteresse, paid by Gods owne hand: there is a little Table, called the Spectacles, where you may Read them more at Large.

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