IN Esam, a hansome market Town in Worcester shire well known, dwel­led two youngmen, who by their vsual trade were Mercers, as in y^t country they call thē so y^t sell all kind of wares: the one of them they called Robert Gre­noll, a bacheler, & of such an honest con­uersatiō, as he was not onely wel beloo­ued in the Towne where he dwelt, but also of those who had euerie market day accesse thither, for their néedfull necessa­ries, so y^t he was as wel customed as a­ny occupier in y^e towne. The other was called Thomas Smith, of indifferēt welth likewise, & son to one of the most substā ­tial mē in y^e towne, & ioyned in mariage [Page]with a gentlewomā of very good paren­tage: so y^t he likewise was well thought on of most & least. This Thomas Smith, séeing Greenoll haue so good vtteraunce for his wares, and so well estéemed in ech companierif not vppon this cause a­lone, though chiefly it bee accounted so, he began to enuy the prosperous estate of him béeing his neighbour and frend, and the Deuill so farre ruled the course of his enuious intent, as nothing wold suffise the desire thereof, but onely ma­king away of Greenoll by death, which though hee had no reason for, yet suche was the perswasion of the euill spirite with him. Manie platformes were laid, a thousād deuises canuazed ouer by this lewde man, which way he might woork the death of his frendly neighbor: at last as the Deuill wanteth no occasions to helpe man forward to his own destruc­tion, so he presented Smith with a fit o­portunity, whereby he might execute y^e sum of his bloody will. And as the repi­ning at our neighbors prosperity, is not onely monstrous, but a denilish nature. [Page]So had this man compassed a monstru­ous and moste deuilish deuise, the verie conceite whereof is able to astonish the heart of a Iewe, or Mahomitans recre­ant, and thus it was as followeth.

On New-yeares euen laste past, this Thomas Smith longinge and desiringe the end of his vnnaturall will, bearing the image of a frendlie countenaunce in the face, but the verie perfecte shape of Iudas tretcherie in his hart, inuited his neighbour Greenoll to his house, where he promised to bestowe a quart of wine and an apple vpon him: saying further, they woulde passe awaye the Euening pleasauntly in frendlie talke and drin­king together. Greenoll béeing one desi­rous of eche mans frendship, and much the rather of his béeing his neighbour, and one of the same trade himself was: nothing mistrusting the villanous treasō, hyd vnder so smooth a show of neigh­berhood, gaue him thanks, promising to come to him at night, & not to faile him. This pleased well the bloud-thirsting man, so that home he wēt to determine [Page]the Instrument to doo the déede withal, & then downe into his Seller hee goes, to dispose a place wherein he might con­uay the bodie when hee had slayne him: there he digged a graue about sixe or se­uen ynches déepe, thinking there to bu­rie him that he should neuer be founde. It drew toward night, when as a play was cryed about the Towne, whereto both old and young did hastely repaire: & this Smith hauing a boye that serued him in his Shop, fearing leaste the boye shoulde perceiue anie thinge, gaue hym money, and bad him goe fée the Play: & bring him the whole report of the mat­ter. This he did in the presence of Gree­nol, who was come according to his promisse to kéepe him companie: & the boye hauing fetcht a quarte of wine and Ap­ples as his maister willed him, ran me­rily to sée the Play, leauing Greenoll & his maister by the fire pleasauntly tal­king. They twoo thus sitting alone, did drinke to ech other verie familiarly, tyll at last, Greenol stouping to turne an ap­ple in the fire, a fit time that Smith es­pied [Page]to accomplish his will: who taking an yron pestell, wherewith hee vsed to beate his spice in the morter, and which he had laid by him ready for the nonce, with this pestel (as Greenoll stouped to turne the Apple) he gaue him twoo suche mightie blowes on the heade, as hée fell down backward to the ground, yéelding foorth a verie pittifull and lamentable groane. Smith hearing him to giue such a woful groane (as himselfe said to me, when I came to him into the prison) be­gan to enter into some sorrowfulnes for the déede, wishinge that hee mighte re­couer againe: but when he perceiued he had smote him so sore, that ther was no hope of his recouerie, he tooke the pestel againe, and gaue him thrée or four more cruell strokes about the heade, whiche made him to lie trembling and shaking in such pittifull manner, as would haue made a hearte of Adamant to melte in griefe: for to beholde how life and death made strife together, life for the sweete­nes, to resist death his bitternes, wyth many a gaspe for breath, with strugling [Page]and often folding his armes together: thus laye this Innocent and martyred coarse. Not suffised with this, the bloody murderer taketh a knife, and therewith cut the throate of Greenol, but as Smith himselfe saith, he did not cut the wezād, but pierced the skin somwhat: and then would haue stabbed him to the heart w^t the knife, but missed and smote him on the shoulder blade, whervpon he strooke againe, and then indéede pierced him to the heart: what a cruell and monstrous harde heart had hee, that coulde endure this rufull Stratageme? When hée had suffised his bloody mind, vpon his fréend and loouing neighbour, hee drewe him down into his Seller, where his graue was readie prepared for him, and there buried him: which béeing doone, he smoo­thed it ouer so finelye with a Trowell that Playsterers vse, so that it could be hardly discerned, and because he would woorke the surer, hee tooke Bayles of Flax which laye in his Seller, and so shaked the shellinges thereof on y^e floore in all places, as no one coulde saye, [Page](but he that knewe it) where the graue was, setting likewise Drifats & Chests ouer it, so that he iudged it should neuer be found. Afterward he went and tooke water, wherewith he washed and dryed his house so clean in euerie place, y^t one drop of blood could not be espied: behold howe subtilly hee wente to woorke, but God, who in no case will haue bloudie murder hidde, preuented all his craitie pollicies.

Smith hauing thus plaide his tyran­nous pageant, & hauing taken Greenols keyes of his shop from him, wente thi­ther and likewise robbed it, bringing a great deale of the goods from thēre into his owne house. But this by the way is to bee considered, that in the Towne of Euesam, all the time of Christmas, and at no other time, there is watch & ward kept, that no misorder or il rule be com­mitted in the Towne, which doubtlesse is a verie good and commendable order. To one of the watchmen had Smith gi­uen this watch-woord, See and see not: which was onelie to this ende, that hee [Page]might goe by them vnséene, when he ca­ryed the goods out of Greenols shop to his owne house. On the morrowe when it was knowen that Greenols shop was robde, question was made thorowe the Towne, who was abroade that nighte that might bee suspected, because of the Playe that was in the Towne: vppon which demaund, the watchman to whō this message was sente, declared howe Thomas Smith was abroad somewhat late, and sent him this watch-word, See and see not, but was meant thereby hée could not gather. Vpon this, Smith was sent for before the chiefe of the Towne, and demaunded if he knew where Gre­nol was, for that it was reported he had béene in his house ouer-night, and since that time no man could tell anie tidin­ges of him: moreouer his shop was rob­bed as that night, and that Smith béeing abroad, and sending such a by-woord See and see not, to one of the watchmen, yt was a shrewd presumption against him to bee somewhat faultie in the matter. So after his aunswere, that hee knewe [Page]not where Greenol was become, and by his late walkinge and woordes sente to the watchman, no harme was meante: they said that they would goe to searche his house, whervpon Smith aunswered, that his house they could not as then sée. because his wife was at Kinges Nortō, a Towne not farre thence, and she had the keyes of his house: but (quoth hee) if you will search my Seller you maye, and so tooke the keyes from his girdle and threw thē vnto them. Then went certayne that were appointed, to search Smiths Seller, whence they were com­ming again without finding such mat­ter as they looked for: till by chaunce one of them happened to espye a little péece of earth, as it were new broken out of the grounde, lying vnder the ne­thermoste staire, which he taking vp, said it were good to sée where any earth was latelye broken there about, for if they chaunced to finde the place, some thing might come to light woorth y^e be­holding. Vpon this councel they began all to looke earnestlye about the Seller, [Page]if they could finde the place where that Earth had béene broken vp. At last they remooued the Chests & Dryfats, where they felt the ground more soft then all the rest: which caused them (suspecting somewhat) to fall to digging, where presently they found Greenoll buryed, not past six or seuen inches déepe, and looking vppon him, beheld how cruelly and vnnaturally he had beene murde­red. These newes brought to the Bay­lifs of y^e towne, where Smith was kept till they returned: not without great lamentation for this bloody déed, of all that knew or heard thereof, he was sent to Worcester Gaole, wher he remained till such time as the crueltie of his vn­neighbour like déede might be determi­ned by Iustice. When y^e Assises came, y^e apparaunt truth of his offence layd be­fore the Iudges, he was condemned to the death, which he suffered very lately since: but yet by the earnest intreatie of his Fréendes, who were of great wealth and credit, the seueritie of the lawe was not altogether ministred, for [Page]wheras he should haue béene hanged in chains, he had more fauour shewd him, he was hanged to death, and after ward buryed.

Thus my Fréendes, haue you heard the true discourse of this most bloody & monstrous act, accordinge as in great greefe, with like sorowe for the deed, him selfe dyd vtter it, both vnto me, and diners other being present, Preachers, and Gentlemen. And truly thus much I must say, for the mā truely he was both a hansome and well featured a Young­man, as one shall lightly soe, his Father as good wealth, and one of the chiefs in the Towne of Esam, and hee had béene marryed not past eight wéeks by crrbi­ble reporte, before he did the deed, to a Gentls womā of very good Parentage, who no donbt remaineth in great gréef for this vnlooked for mischaunce, she be­ing merty abroade with her: Freends, when her Hasoand at home conunitted this cruell deed: I commit it to the Iudgement of all verfuous Women, what a groefe it was to her, when first [Page]she heard of these vnhappy newes: But héere I may not make a final pause, for that an other horrible and wicked déed, committed in Iune last 1582. in the same Sheire, constraineth me to speak somewhat thereof: and for that I be­held the death of one of y^e partyes, I am the more willing to passe it ouer in a bréefe discourse.

AT a place called Cothridge, about four myles distant frō Worcester, dwelt an honest Hubsband-mā, named Thomas Beast, one very well reputed among his Neighbours, aswell for his house keeping, as also for his Godly and honest behauiour. This afore named Thomas Beast, kept a hansome Yong­man to his seruant, called Christopher Tomson, to whome (by the wicked in­stigation [Page]and prouocation of y^e Deuill) the good Wife of y^e house vsed far better affection, then to her owne Husband.

Often times they would carnally ac­quaint thē selues together, till lust had gotten so much power of the Woman: as she began altogether to loathe and dislike her Husband, and preferre the fleshly dealings of her new companion so much, as she must néeds séeke & prac­tise the death of her Husband.

The Neighbours not suspecting, but credibly perceiuing, the common and vnhonest behauiour of this wicked wo­man & her lusty Yonker: began so much to dislike thereof, as if came at last to her Husbāds eares, who as wel to slake the rumor of the Prople, as also the pleasure these two vnhonestly enioied: gaue his Seruaunt warning to anoyd his howse, who packed vp his clothes, and was departing: But that this fil­thie desirous Woman, so much preuay­led in the matter with her Husband. y^t her Companiō departed not, but taryed still. At length, so great grew the ha­tréd [Page]of this harlot against her Husbād, as she must néeds haue Christopher her sweet dallying Fréend, to dispatch the life of him, wherto a great while he would not consent, perswading her stil from it; so much as in him lay. But it grew to such an issue at the last, as she must néeds haue her will, and Christo­pher must not deny her thereof, for she coniured him by the looue that he bare her, and if any way he would witnesse his affection vnto her, to manifest it in the killing her Husband, for (quoth she) with mony and fréends I will warrant thée to saue thy life, and then thou and I will liue merrily together. Oh most horrible and wicked Womon, a womā, nay a deuill: stop your eares you chaste & graue matrones, whome Gods feare, dutie, true looue to your Husbands, and vertue of your selues hath so beautified as nothing tā be more odious vnto you, then y^t such a gracelesse strumpet should be found, so much to dishonor your no­ble sexe. Well, when neither intrea­tie, nor all y^e faire meanes Christopher [Page]could vse, to subuert this deuilish desire: sollemnely at the eating of a Posset, the night before he did the deede, he promi­sed her faithfully, to accōplish her will. On y^e morrowe when his Maister was in his feeld at the plow, he takes a long pike staffe on his necke, wherwith he would goe doo the deed: but his wicked Mistresse missiking the weapon, saying that it was nothing fit for the purpose, deliuered him a Forrest Bil, which she her self had made very sharp for y^e same infent, and said: Be sure to hit him right, and thou shalt speed him I war­rant thée, so that he shal neuer tell who did hurt him. Christopher taketh this Bil on his back, & comes into the feeld to his Maister, where he began quarre­lingly to say vnto him after this man­ner. Seeing you are willing I shall serue you no lōger, giue me that which is my dutie & so fare ye wel, with other woords of quarrell that he vsed about y^e sum of the mony, but his Maister graū ­ted him so much as he demaunded, and turning from him, to open his pursse to [Page]giue him the mony, Christopher strooke at him with the Bil in such cruel man­ner, y^t there he killed him. After the déed was done, he fled, but not farre before he was takē, when presently he exclai­med on his Mistres, how she was cause y^t he cōmitted the deed: wherupon they were both sent to Worcester Gaole, where very often shee would sollicite her swéet Christopher, with mony, hand kerchers, nosegaies, and such like amo­rous and loouing tokens, and he besot­ted in his naughtie affection, would shape all his conditions to please her, the more to witnes his dissolute folly, he made a triumphe (as it were) in car­rying a locke of her haire about him, & would sit kissing and delighting in any token she sent him: besyde, one day he desired the Iaylor, that if he were a Man, or one that regarded the extreme afflictions of those, whom the tirāny of looue possessed, that he wold doo so much for him, to rip foorth the hart of him, & cleauing the same in sunder, he should there beholde the liuely Image of his [Page]swéet mistresse, to whom (as the théefest Iewell he had) hee destred him to make a present of that pretions token.

When time came, that Iustice should determine of these twaine, béeing wor­thily found guiltie and condemned: shee was adiudged (for an example to all lighte and lasciuious women) that shee should bee burned, & Christopher, to bée carried to the place where he did y^e déed: there to be first hāgrd dead, & afterward to be hanged vp againe in chaines. The Assises béeing holden at Esam, shee was laide vpon an hurdle, & so drawne to the place of Execution, which was without the lown: & there béeing boūd to y^e stake, & the fire made to burne about her, her wertched carkas was soone dissolued in­to athes. Christopher Tomson, he was carried back again to Worcester, where he likewise (for an example to all lewd liuers) was drawne on an hurdle about the Eittie, & so conuayed to Cothridge, where according to his iudgment he hangeth in chaynes.