IT is not my purpose to make thee now laugh, but if possible it be to be sad, not to rejoyce but lament, not to be frolicke, but to dissolve into foun­taines of teares, because a daughter of Ierusalem hath committed an abomination. Har­ken to me you that be wives, and give attendance you which as yet are unmarried, regard the words of Saint Paul which commands that every wife should love her own husband as Christ the church, not to be highminded towards him, but humble, not to be selfe-willed, but diligent, not to be like a strange woman, which wandereth abroad in the twi-light to get a prey, but to be constant and lo­ving to him, for why? ye be both of one fl [...]sh.

[Page 2] A man must forsake his Father, Mother, Bre­thren, and Sisters, to cleave to his owne wife, and so likewise the wife for the husband. But I must tell of one who would never agree to any such pi­ous matter.

Before I come to which relation I cannot ab­staine my selfe from exclamation, let all the forrests wherein fierce lions are contained be joined in one, and privy search made, to know if ever female did the male destroy; Oh no! for though by nature they be fierce and bloody, yet doth nature so much governe them, that those which are couples, bee linkt in friendship, never disagree. Oh then thou sa­vage woman, why unto blood wert thou addicted, as to destroy thy loving and kind husband? the re­lation of which, shall be divulged throughout this universe.

In the parish of Saint Margarets Westminster, dwelleth one Anne Hamton, in the house of Margeret Harwood; this Anne Hamton had a husband which like a loving man indeed delighted in nothing more but to see his wife pleasant: for he would of­ten say my wife being troubled it behoveth me not to be at rest▪ she being pleasant I ought to be joyful: But she, most unkind woman, was of a contrary dis­position; for she at her owne house, would take an occasion to be merry, when the greatest mischiefe had befallen him. Hee was a very laborious man, but she, a light huswife, when he was working shee [Page 3] would be gossiping, with one young fellow or o­ther, or else with such women as were like to her selfe: never was she more joyfull then when she was out of her good husbands company: what her hus­band got by taking paines, she spent by taking her pleasure: his mony being thus consumed, and his goods wasted, he upon a time spoke to her after this manner.

Wife, what doe you meane to doe? how dost thou intend to live? my mony you spend, which I get hardly, my goods you waste, you never got the worth of a joyntstoole, my company you hate, you must have better. O wife, wife, take counsell by me thy hitherto loving husband, forsake that company which hate not thy body, but soule, doe not drink healths to thine own confusion, nor with so greedy an appetite swallow thine own destructi­on; repent in time of thy wickednesse lest when thou thinkest thy selfe in security, the Lord doth cut thee off, and what will then become of thy poore soule; love me thy husband, hate those which intice thee to wickednesse, trust not to their smiling countenances, for in their hearts doe lye hid nothing but abominations. If thou wilt (I say) have my love, hate such, or else never more thinke to enjoy, that which as yet you have alwaies had.

What harme was there in all this which he spake unto her? But notwithstanding she forsooth took [Page 4] it in distaste, and giving him a scolding reply, shee left the roome, and went to her companion in mis­chief, Margerite Harwood, which was her Landlady, to whom she revealed the secrets of her heart, say­ing, that her husband was an enemy to good fel­lowship, and continually wrangled and brawled at her, because she affected it. In which she lyed, for hee alwayes spoke in a very loving manner unto her, except she overmuch provoked him.

Moreover she said that shee should never bee in quiet untill by some way or other she were shifted of him.

The devill finding an occasion how to accom­plish a mischievous intent, alwayes makes use of it, hee knowes how to please every ones wicked hu­mour. Wherefore he tempted the Landlady with bloody cogitations, for shee hearing her Ningles unjust complaint, she cryed out that it was her own fault, for letting such an abject villaine to live; hang him, cut his throat, or poyson him, for he is not fit to live upon the earth amongst good fellowes. To condiscend to whose counsell, she seemed very un­willing, but at length the devill got the better of her, and then she did agree to poyson him. And for the same intent she went and got five drams of poi­son, enough to have destroyed ten men, and mixt it amongst his food, which he no sooner had taken, but that he presently did swell very much, which [Page 5] she perceiving, did runne to her Landl [...]dy who askt her how much she had given him▪ sh [...] r [...]plyed, five drams; well done, said she, if five will not bee enough, ten shall, and thereupon they went up to see him, but he was then burst. Then did they both dissemble a lamentable cry, which caused the neighbours to come in to see what was the matter, where they did behold such a wofull spectacle as was sufficient to exhaust teares from the dryest eye composed of Pumice stone; for there did they see his nayles quite pilled of, his hands did seeme onely like two great boyles, his belly seemed as if hot irons had beene thrust into it, his visage was so much defaced by the quicke operation of the scal­ding poyson, that had they not well knowne the body, they would have sworne it not to have beene the man which they came to visit: they all easily perceived that he was poysoned.

A Chyrurgion being sent for, ripped up his bo­dy, and found the poyson lying round about his heart. As also there was found poyson in a paper in the window; the Chyrurgion calling for a Ve­nice glasse put the same therein, which immediatly broke the glasse.

Wherefore they sent for an officer, and appre­hended upon suspition both his wife and Landlady, whose consciences cannot but confesse that they washed both their hands in his innocent blood.

[Page 6] They are both in the Gatehouse prison of West­minster, nigh London, expecting a day of tryall, which time will not be long; till when I [...]est: the [...] (gentle Reader) sh [...]lt thou have by Gods permit­tance a more perfect relation.