AS a chaine consists of diuers linkes, and euery linke depends and is inyoak'd vpon one an­other: Euen so our sinnes, be­ing the Chaine wherewith Sa­tan doth binde and manacle vs, are so knit, twisted, and so­dered together, that without our firme faith ascending, and Gods grace descending, wee can neuer bee freed from those infernall fetters; for Sloth is linked with Drunkennes, Drunkennes with Fornication and Adultery, & Adultery with Murder, and so of al the rest of the temptations, suggestions and actions, wherewith miserable men and women are insnared, and led captiue into perpetuall perdition, except the mercy of our gracious God be our de­fence and safegard.

For a lamentable example of the Diuels malice, and mans misery, this party, of whom I treat at this time, was a wretch, not to be matched, a fellow not be fellowed, & one that scarce hath an equall, for matchlesse misery, and vnnaturall Mur­ther. But to the matter.

[Page]This Iohn Rowse being a Fishmonger in London, gaue ouer his trade, and liued altogether in the Towne of Ewell, neere Nonesuch, in the County of Surry, ten miles from London, where he had Land of his owne for himselfe and his heires for euer to the value of fifty pounds a yeere, with which hee liued in good and honest fashion, being well reputed of all his neighbours, and in good estimation with Gentlemen and o­thers that dwelt in the adioyning Villages.

Vntill at the last he married a very honest and comely wo­man, with whom hee liued quietly and in good fashion some six moneths, till the Diuell sent an instrument of his, to di­sturbe their Matrimoniall happinesse: for they wanting a Maidseruant, did entertain into their house a Wench, whose name was Iane Bl [...]ndell, who in short time was better acquain­ted with her Masters bed then honesty required, which in time was found out and knowne by her Mistris, and brake the peace, in such sort, betweene the said Rowse and his Wife, that in the end, after two yeeres continuance, it brake the poore womans heart, that she dyed & left her Husband a widdower, where he and his Whore were the more free to vse their cur­sed contentments, and vngodly embracements.

Yet that estate of being vnmarried was displeasing to him, so that he tooke to wife another woman, who for her outward feature, and inward qualities was euery way fit for a very ho­nest man, although it were her hard fortune to match other­wise.

With this last Wife of his he liued much discontented, by reason of his keeping his lewd Tr [...]ll in his house, so that by his dayly Ryot, excessiue drinking, & vnproportionable spen­ding, his estate began to be much impouerished, much of his Land morgag'd and forfeited, himselfe aboue two hundred pounds indebted, and in processe of time to be (as a lewd [Page] liuer) of all his honest neighbours reiected and contemned.

His estate and credit being almost past recouerie wasted and impaired, he forsooke his Wife, came vp to London with his Wench, where hee fell in new league with a corrupted friend; who (as he said) did most courteously coozen him of all that euer he had, & whom at this time I forbeare to name; because it was Iohn Rowse his request before his execution, that he should not be named in any Booke or Ballad, but yet vpon a Dye his name may be picked out betwixt a sinke & a trey. This false friend of his (as he said) did perswade him to leaue his Wife for altogether, and did lodge and boord him and his paramore certaine weekes in his house, and afterward caused him and her to be lodged (hauing chang'd his name) as Man and Wife in an honest mans house neere Bishops­gate, at Beuis Marks, where they continued so long, till his money was gone, (as indeede he neuer had much, but now and then small petty summes from his secret friend aforesaid) and he being fearefull to bee smoak'd out by his Creditors, was counselled to leaue his Country, and depart for Ireland; and before his going ouer-Sea, his friend wrought so, that all his Land was made ouer in trust to him, and Bonds, Coue­nants, and Leases made, as fully bought and sold for a summe of two hundred and threescore pounds; of all which money the said Rowse did take the Sacrament and his death, that hee neuer did receiue one penny, but hee said that now and then he had fiue or ten shillings at a time from his said friend, and neuer aboue twenty shillings, and that all that euer he had of him, being summ'd together, was not aboue three & twenty pounds, the which moneys his friend did pay himselfe out of his Rents. But some more friend to him, then he was to him­selfe, did doubt that he was cheated of his Land: whereupon (to make all sure) he said that his false friend did so farre pre­uaile [Page] with him, that hee the said Rowse tooke an Oath in the open Court at Westminster Hall, that hee had lawfully sold his Land, and had receiued the summe abouesaid, in full sa­tisfaction and paiment, and his said friend did vow and pro­test many times vnto him, with such oathes and vehement curses, that he neuer would deceiue his trust, but that at any time when hee would command all those forged Bonds and Leases, that hee would surrender them vnto him, and that hee should neuer be damnifide by them or him, to the value of one halfe-penny. Vpon which protestations (hee said) he was enticed to vndoe himselfe out of all his earthly possessi­ons, & by a false oath to make hazard of his inheritance in Heauen.

In Ireland he stayd not long, but came ouer againe, and was by his friend perswaded to goe into the Low Coun­tries: which he did, neuer minding his Wife and two small Children which he had by her, hauing likewise a brace of ba­stards by his Whore (as some say) but he said that but one of them was of his begetting. But he, after some stay in Holland, saw that he could not fadge there, according to his desire, and withall, suspecting that he was cheated of his Land, and aboue all, much perplexed in his Conscience for the false oath that he had taken, pondering his miserable estate, and ruing his vnkindnesse to his Wife, and vnnaturall dealing to his Children, thinking with himselfe what course were best to take to helpe himselfe out of so many miseries which did in­compasse him, he came ouer againe into England to his too deare friend, demanding of him his Bonds and Leas [...]s of his Land which hee had put him in trust withall. But then his friend did manifest himselfe what he was, and told him plain­ly, that he had no writings, not any Land of his, but what hee had dearely bought and paid for. All which (Rowse replyed [Page] vnto him) was false, as his owne Conscience knew. Then said the other, haue I not heere in my custody your hand and Seale to confirme my lawfull possession of your Land? and moreouer haue I not a Record of an Oath in open Court, which you tooke concerning the truth of all our bar­gaine? And seeing that I haue all these especiall points of the Law, as an Oath, Indentures, and a sure possession, take what course you will, for I am resolued to hold vvhat I haue.

These (or the like) words, in effect passed betwixt Rowse and his Friend (Trusty Roger) which entring at his eares, pierced his heart like Daggers; and beeing out of money and Credit, a man much infamous for his bad life, indeb­ted beyond all possible meanes of paiment; a periured wretch to coozen himselfe, hauing no place or meanes to feede or lodge, and fearefull of being arrested, hauing so much abused his Wife, and so little regarded his Chil­dren, being now brought to the pits brim of desperation, not knowing amongst these calamities which way to turne himselfe, hee resolued at last to goe home to Ewell againe to his much wronged Wife, for his last refuge in extre­mitie.

The poore Woman receiued him with ioy, and his Children with all gladnesse welcomed home the prodigall Father, with whom he remained in much discontentment and perplexitie of minde: the Diuell still tempting him [...] mischiefe and despaire; putting him in minde of his [...] better estate, comparing pleasures past with present miseries, and hee re [...]oluing that hee had beene a man in that Towne had beene a Gentlemans companion, of good Reputation and Calling, that hee had Friends, Lands, Money, Apparell, and Credit, with meanes suf­ficient [Page] to haue left for the maintenance of his Family, and that now he had nothing left him but pouerty and begge­ry, and that his two Children were like to be left to go from doore to doore for their liuing.

Being thus tormented and tost with restlesse imaginati­ons; hee seeing dayly to his further griefe, the poore case of his children, and fearing that worse would befall them hereafter, hee resolued to worke some meanes to take a­way their languishing liues, by a speedy & vntimely death, the which practise of his (by the Diuels instigation and as­sistance) he effected as followeth.

To bee sure that no body should stop or preuent his di­uellish enterprise; hee sent his Wife to London in a friuo­lous errand, for a riding Coate: and she being gone some­what timely, and too soone in the morning, both her Chil­dren being in bed and fast asleepe, beeing two very pretty Girles, one of the age of sixe yeeres, and the other foure yeeres old, none being in the house but themselues, their vnfortunate Father, and his ghostly Counsellor, the dores being fast locked, hee hauing an excellent Spring of wa­ter in the Seller of his house (which, to a good minde that would haue imploy'd it well, would haue beene a bles­sing: for the water is of that Christaline purity, and cleere­nesse, that Queen Elizabeth of famous memory would day­ly send for it for her owne vse) in which hee purposed to drowne his poore innocent children sleeping: for he going into the Chamber where they lay, took the yongest of [...] named Elizabeth forth of her bed, and carried her [...] the Stayres into his Seller, and there put her in the Spring of Water, holding downe her head vnder that pure Ele­ment with his hands, till at last the poore harmelesse soule and body parted one from another.

[Page]Which first Act of this his inhumane Tragedy be­ing ended, hee carried the dead corps vp three payre of stayres, and laying it downe on the floore, left it, and went down into the Chamber where his other Daughter, named Marry, was in bed; being newly awaked, and seeing her fa­ther, demanded of him where her Sister was? To whom he made answer that he would bring her where she was. So ta­king her in his armes, hee carried her downe towards the Seller: and as hee was on the Seller stayres, shee asked him what he would doe, and whither he would carry her? Feare nothing, my Child (quoth hee) I will bring thee vp againe presently: and being come to the Spring, as before hee had done with the other, so hee performed his last vnfatherly deed vpon her, & to be as good as his word, carried her vp the stayres & laid her by her sister; that done, he laid them out, and couered them both with a sheete, walking vp and downe his house, weeping and lamenting his owne misery, and his friends treachery, that was the maine ground of all his misfortunes, & the death of his Children: and though there was time and opportunity enough for him to flye, & to seeke for safety; yet the burthen and guilt of his consci­ence was so heauy to him, and his desperate case was so ex­treme, that hee neuer offered to depart; but as a man wea­ry of his life, would, and did stay, till such time as hee was apprehended and sent to Prison, where he lay till he was re­warded with a iust deserued death.

What his other intents were, after hee had drowned his Children, is vncertaine; for hee drew his sword and laid it naked on a Table, and after, he gate a poore woman downe into the Seller, and in the same place where the two Infants lost their liues, hee did helpe the woman to wring a Bucke of his clothes, and then he requested her to help to [Page] conuey his goods out of his house; for hee said that hee feared that the Sheriffe of Surry would come and seaze vp­on all. But the woman not thinking of any of the harme that was done, imagined that he had meant that his goods would be seazed for debt, and not for murther.

But to returne to the miserable Mother of the murde­red Children, shee said that her heart throbbed all day, as fore-boading some heauy mischance to come: and ha­uing done her businesse that shee came about to London, as soone as shee came home, she asked for her Children, to whom her Husband answered that they were at a neighbours house in the Towne. Then said she, I will goe thither to fetch them home. No quoth he, I will goe my selfe presently for them. Thē said his wife, let the poore wo­man that is heere goe and bring them home. But at last she saw such delay was vsed, she was going her selfe; then her Husband told her that hee had sent them to a Kinsmans of his at a Village called Sutton, foure miles from Ewell, and that hee had prouided well for them, and prayd▪ her to bee contented and feare nothing, for they were well. These double tales of his, made her to doubt somwhat was amisse: therefore shee intreated him for Gods sake to tell her true­ly where they were. Wherevpon he said, If you will needs know where they are, goe but vp the staires into such a Chamber, and there you shall finde them. But in what a lamentable perplexity of mind the poore woman was when shee perceiued how and which way they lost their liues, any Christian that hath an heart of flesh may imagine. Presently the Constable was sent for, who tooke him into his custody, who amongst other talke, demanded of him why and how hee could commit so vnnaturall a fact, as to murder his Children? To whom he answered, that he did it, [Page] because he was not able to keepe them, and that hee was loth they should goe about the Towne a begging: and moreouer, that they were his owne, and being so, that hee might doe what hee would with them, and that they had their liues from him, and therefore he had taken their liues from them, and was contented to lose his life for them: for he was sure that their miseries were past, and for his part, he had an assured hope to goe to them, though they could not come to him.

So being had before a Iustice, his Examination was ve­ry briefe; for he confest all the whole circumstances of the matter freely; so that he was sent to the common Prison of Surry, cal'd the White Lyon, where hee remained fourteene or fifteene weekes a wonderfull penitent Prisoner, neuer, or very seldome, being without a Bible or some other good booke meditating vpon; and whon any one did but menti­on his Children, he would fetch a deep sigh, and weepe, de­siring euery one to pray for him and vpon his owne earnest request, he was praide for at Pauls Crosse, and at most of the Churches in London, and at many in the Country, and at the Sessions holden at Croydon, the latter end of Iune last, he made such free confession at the Barre, declaring the man­ner of his life, his odious Drinking, his abominable Who­ring, his cruell Murther, and the false dealing of his deceit­full friend, which was the cause of his finall wracke: with which Relations of his pronounced, with such vehemency and protestations, he moued all that heard him to commi­seration and pitie.

So, according to Law and Iustice, he was there condem­ned and iudged (for the murthering of his two Children) to be hang'd; which Iudgement was executed on him at the common Gallowes at Croydon, on Munday the second [Page] day of Iune, 1621. where he dyed with great penitency and remorce of Conscience.

This was the lamentable end of Iohn Rowse, a man of the age of fifty yeeres, and one that might haue liu'd and dyed in better fashion, if he had laid hold on the grace of heauen, and craued Gods protection and fatherly assistance: but of all that herein is declared, this one thing which I now de­clare, is most lamentable & remarkable; which is, that Ewell being a Market Towne, not much aboue ten miles from London, in a Christian Kingdome, and such a Kingdome, where the all-sauing Word of the euer-liuing God is most diligently, sincerely, and plentifully preached; & yet amidst this diligence, as it were in the Circle or Center of this sin­cerity, and in the floud of this plenty, the Towne of Ewell hath neither Preacher nor Pastor: for although the Parso­nage be able to maintaine a sufficient Preacher, yet the li­uing beeing in a Lay-mans hand, is rented out to another for a great sum, & yet no Preacher maintained there. Now the chief Landlord out of his portion, doth allow but seuen pounds yeerely for a Reader, and the other that doth hyre the Parsonage at a great Rent, doth giue the said Reader foure pound the yeere more out of his meanes and courte­sie: and by this meanes the Towne is serued with a poore old man that is halfe blinde, and by reason of his age can scarcely read: for all the world knowes, that so small a sti­pend cannot finde a good Preacher Bookes, and very hard­ly bread to liue on; so that the poore soules dwelling there, are in danger of famishing, for want of a good Preacher to breake the Bread of Life vnto them: for a Sermon amongst them, is as rare as warm weather in December, or Ice in Iuly: both which I haue seene in England, though but seldome.

And as the Wolfe is most bold with the Sheepe, when [Page] there is either no Shepheard, or an impotent insufficient one, so the Diuell (perhaps) tooke his aduantage of this wretched man, seeing he was so badly guarded, & so weake­ly guided to withstand his force and malice: for where God is least known and called vpon, there Satan hath most power and domination. But howsoeuer, I wish with all my heart, that that Towne and many more were better proui­ded then they are, and then such numbers of soules would not be in hazzard to perish; nor so many sufficient schollers that can preach and teach well, liue in penury through want of maintenance. I could runne further vpon this point, but that I doe shortly purpose to touch it more to the quick in another Booke.

By this mans fall, we may see an example of Gods Iustice against Drunkennes, Whoredome, and Murder; the Diuel being the first Author, who was a Murtherer from the be­ginning: who fil'd Cain with Enuy, that hee murdered his brother Abel: who tempted Dauid first to Adultery, and afterwards to Murther; who prouoked Herod to cause the blessed Seruant of God Iohn Baptist to lose his head, be­cause hee told him it was not lawfull for him to marry his brother Philips Wife; and who was the prouoker of the a­foresaid Herod to murther all the innocent male children in his Kingdome. And let vs but marke and consider the plagues and punishments that God hath inflicted vpon Murderers, Adulterers, and Incestuous persons: First, Cain, although by his birth hee was the first man that euer was borne, a Prince by his birth, and heire apparant to all the world; yet for the Murther by him committed on his bro­ther, he was the first Vagabond and Runnagate on the face of the earth, almost fearefull of his owne shaddow: and af­ter he had liued along time terrifide in Conscience, was [Page] himselfe slaine (as is supposed) by Lamech. Simeon and Leu [...] the sonnes of Iacob were accurst of their Father for the slaughter of the Sichemites; Ioab the Captaine of Dauids Host, was slaine for the murthering of Abner; Dauid him­selfe, for the death of Vrias, and the Adultery committed with Bethsheba, was continually plagued and vexed with the Sword of Warre, with the Rebellion of his owne sonnes, and with the vntimely deaths of Amnon, and Abs [...]lon. Baa­nah and R [...]chab, for the slaying of Ishbosheth the sonne of Saul, they were both by Dauids commandement put to death, who had both their hands and feete cut off, & were afterward hanged ouer the Poole in Hebron: Samuel 2. 4. The examples are infinite out of diuine and humane Hi­stories, that God did neuer suffer Murder to goe vnrewar­ded: and this miserable man, of whom I haue heere rela­ted, is a most manifest spectacle of Gods reuenging venge­ance, for that crying and hainous sinne.

As concerning Lust and Incontinency, it is a short plea­sure, bought with long paine, a hunnied poyson, a Gul [...] of Shame, a Pickpurse, a breeder of Diseases, a gall to the Conscience, a corrosiue to the heart, turning mans wit in­to foolish madnesse, the bodies bane, and the soules perdi­tion: it is excessiue in youth, and odious in age; besides, God himselfe doth denounce most fearefull threats against Fornicators and Adulterers, as the Apostle saith, that Whoremongers and Adulterers shall not inherit the King­dome of Heauen, 1. Cor. 6. 9. And God himselfe saith, that he will be a swift witnes against Adulterers, Mal. 3. 5. And the Wise man saith, that because of the whorish woman, a man is brought to a morsell of bread, and a woman will hunt for the precious life of a man: For, saith he, can a man take fire in his bosome, and his cloathes not bee burnt? or can a man goe vpon [Page] hot Coales, and his feete not be burnt? So hee that goeth in to his neighbours Wife, shall not be innocent, Prou. 6. 27, 28, 29. Abi­melech, one of the sonnes of Gedeon, murdered threescore and ten of his Brethren; and in reward thereof (by the iust Iudgement of God) a woman with a piece of a Milstone beate out his braines, after hee had vsurped the Kingdome three yeeres, Iudges the 9. Our English Chronicles make mention, that Roger Mortimer, Lord Baron of Wallingford, murdered his Master King Edward the second, and caused the Kings Vncle, Edmund Earle of Kent, causelessely to bee beheaded: but Gods Iustice ouertooke him at last, so that for the said Murders hee was shamefully executed. Hum­phrey Duke of Glocester was murdered in the Abbey of Bury by William de la Poole Duke of Suffolke, who afterward was beheaded himselfe on the Sea by a Pyrat. Arden of Feuer­sham, and Page of Plimmouth, both their Murders are fresh in memory, and the fearefull ends of their Wiues and their Ayders in those bloudy actions will neuer bee forgotten.

It is too manifestly knowne, what a number of Stepmo­thers and Strumpets haue most inhumanely murdred their Children, and for the same haue most deseruedly been exe­cuted. But in the memory of man (nor scarcely in any Hi­story) it is not to be found, that a Father did euer take two Innocent Children out of their beds, and with weeping teares of pittilesse pitie, and vnmercifull mercy, to drowne them, shewing such compassionate cruelty, and sorrowfull sighing remorcelesse remorce in that most vnfatherly and vnnaturall deede.

All which may be attributed to the malice of the Diuell, whose will and endeuour is that none should be saued, who layes out his traps and snares, intangling some with Lust, some with Couetousnesse, some with Ambition, Drunken­nesse, [Page] Enuy, Murder, Sloth, or any Vice whereto hee sees a man or a woman inclined most vnto, as hee did by this wretched man, lulling him, as it were, in the cradle of sen­suality, and vngodly delight, vntill such time as all his meanes, Reputation, and Credit was gone, and nothing left him but misery and reproach. Then hee leades him along through doubts and feares, to haue no hope in Gods Pro­uidence, perswading his Conscience that his sinnes were vnpardonable, and his Estate and Credit vnrecouerable.

VVith these suggestions, he led him on to despaire, and in desperation to kill his Children, and make shipwracke of his owne Soule, in which the diligence of the Diuel appea­reth, that he labours and trauels vncessantly: and as Saint Bernard saith, in the last day shall rise in condemnation a­gainst vs, because he hath euer been more diligent to de­stroy soules, then wee haue been to saue them. And for a Conclusion, let vs beseech God of his infinite mercy to defend vs from all the subtill temptati­ons of Satan.