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all men; and that it would teach them, and bring their salvation, if they did obey it.' Then I asked him, what would they (the papists,) do with all their relics and images, if they should own and believe in this light, and receive the grace to teach them and bring their salvation? he said, ‘those things were but policies to keep people in subjection.” Very free he was in discourse. I never heard a papist confess so much as he did. Now, though several about the court began to grow loving to Friends, yet the persecution was very hot, and several Friends died in prison. Whereupon I gave forth a little paper concerning the grounds and rise of persecution; which was thus:

“All the sufferings of the people of God in all ages, were because they could not join to the national religions and worships which men had made and set up, and because they would not forsake God's religion and his worship which he had set up. And you may see through all chronicles and histories, that the priests joined with the powers of the nations; the magistrates, and soothsayers, and fortunetellers, all these joined against the people of God, and did imagine vain things against them in their councils. When the Jews did wickedly, they turned against Moses. When the Jewish kings transgressed the law of God, they persecuted the prophets; as may be seen in the prophets' writings. And when Christ, the substance, came, then the Jews persecuted Christ, his apostles, and disciples. And when the Jews had not power enough of themselves to persecute answerable to their wills, then they got the heathen Gentiles to help them against Christ, and against his apostles and his disciples, who were in the spirit and power of Christ. G. F.”

After I had made some stay in London, and had cleared myself of what lay upon me there, I went into the country, having with me Alexander Parker and John Stubbs, who was lately come back from Alexandria, in Egypt, as was mentioned before. We travelled through the country, visiting Friends' meetings till we came to Bristol. There we understood, that the officers were likely to come and break up the meeting; yet on first-day we went to the meeting at Broad-mead, and Alexander Parker standing up first, while he was speaking, the officers came and took him away. After he was gone, I stood up in the eternal power of God, and declared the everlasting truth of the Lord God; and the heavenly power came over all, and the meeting was quiet the rest of the time, and broke up peaceably. I tarried till first-day following, visiting Friends, and being visited by Friends. On first-day morning, several Friends came to Edward Pyot's (where I lay the night before) and used endeavours to persuade me not to go to the meeting that day; for the magistrates, they said, had threatened to take me, and had raised the train-bands. I wished them to go their way to the meeting, not tell

ing them what I intended to do; but I told Edward Pyot l intended to go, and he sent his son to show me the way from his house by the fields. As I went I met divers Friends, who did what they could to stop me: “What,' said one, 'wilt thou go into the mouth of the beast” ‘Wilt thou go into the mouth of the dragon" said another. But I put them by and went on. When I came to the meeting, Margaret Thomas was speaking. When she had done, I stood up. I saw a concern and fear upon Friends for me; but the power of the Lord, in which I declared, soon struck the fear out of them. Life sprang, and an heavenly glorious meeting we had. After I had cleared myself of what was upon me from the Lord to the meeting, I was moved to pray, and after prayer to stand up again, and tell Friends, “now they might see there was a God in Israel that could deliver.' A very large full meeting this was, and very hot; but truth was over all, and the life was up which carried through all, and the meeting broke up in peace. The officers and soldiers had been breaking up another meeting, which had taken up their time; so that our meeting was ended before they came. But I understood afterwards they were in a great rage, because they had missed me; for they were heard to say one to another before, “I’ll warrant we shall have him;’ but the Lord prevented them. I went to Joan Hily's, where many Friends came to see me; rejoicing and blessing God for our deliverance. In the evening I had a fine fresh meeting at a Friend's house over the water, where we were much refreshed in the Lord. After this I staid most part of that week in Bristol, and at Edward Pyot's. Edward was brought so low and weak with an ague, that when I first came he was looked upon as a dying man; but it pleased the Lord to raise him up again, so that, before I went away, his ague left him, and he was finely well. Having been two first-days at the meeting at Broad-mead, and feeling my spirit clear of Bristol, I went next first-day to a meeting in the country not far distant. And after the meeting, some Friends from Bristol told me, the soldiers that day had beset the meeting-house round at Bristol, and then went up saying, “they would be sure to have me now ;' but when they found me not there, they were in a great rage, and kept Friends in the meeting-house most part of the day before they would let them go home; and queried of them, ‘Which way I was gone, and how they might send after me? for the mayor, (they said,) would fain have spoken with me.' I had a vision of a great mastiff dog, that would have bit me; but I put one hand above his jaws, and the other hand below, and tore his jaws in pieces. So the Lord by his power tore their power to pieces, and made way for me to escape them. Then I passed through the country, visiting Friends in Wiltshire and Berkshire, till I came to London, having great meetings amongst Friends as I went. The Lord's power was over all, and a blessed time it was for the spreading of his glorious truth. It was indeed the immediate power of the Lord that preserved me out of their hands at Bristol, and over the heads of all our persecutors; and the Lord alone is worthy of all the glory, who did uphold and preserve for his name, and truth's sake. At London I staid not long, being drawn in spirit to visit Friends northward as far as Leicestershire. John Stubbs was with me. We travelled down, having meetings amongst Friends as we went; and at Skegby we had a great meeting. Thence we came to Barnet-hills, where lived one captain Brown, a Baptist, whose wife was convinced of truth. This captain Brown, after the act for “breaking up meetings' came forth, being afraid his wife should go to meetings, and be cast into prison, left his house at Barrow, and took a place on these hills, saying, “His wife should not go to prison.' And this being a free place, many both priests and others fled thither as well as he. But he, who would neither stand to truth himself nor suffer his wife, was in this place, where he thought himself safe, found out by the Lord, whose hand fell heavy upon him for his unfaithfulness; so that he was sorely plagued, and grievously judged in himself for flying and drawing his wife into that private place. We went to see his wife, and being into the house, I asked him, how he did “How do I! (said he,) the plagues and vengeance of God are upon me, a runagate, a Cain as I am. God may look for a witness for me, and such as me; for if all were not faithfuller than I, God would have no witness left in the earth.” In this condition he lived there on bread and water, and thought it was too good for him. At length he got home again with his wife to his own house at Barrow, where afterwards he was convinced of God's eternal truth, and died in it. A little before his death he said, ‘though he had not borne a testimony for truth in his life, he would bear a testimony in his death, and would be buried in his orchard;’ and was so. He was an example to all the flying Baptists in the time of persecution, who could not bear persecution themselves, yet persecuted us when they had power. From Barnet-hills we came to Swanington, in Leicestershire, where William Smith and some other Friends came to me; but went away towards night, leaving me at a Friend's house in Swanington. At night as I was sitting in the hall, speaking to a widow-woman and her daughter, lord Beaumont came with a company of soldiers, who, slapping their swords on the door, rushed into the house with swords and pistols in their hands, crying, “Put out the candles, and make fast the doors.’ Then they seized upon the Friends in the house and asked, “If there were no more about the house?” the Friends told them, there was one man more in the hall. There being some Friends out of Derbyshire, one of them was named Thomas Fauks; this lord Beaumont, so called, after he had asked all their names, bid his man set down that man's name Thomas Fox. The Friend said, nay, his name was not Fox, but Fauks. In the mean time some of the soldiers came, and fetched me out of the hall to him. He asked my name. I told him my name was George Fox, and that I was well known by that name. ‘Ay, (said he,) you are known all the world over.' I said, I was known for no hurt, but for good. Then he put his hands into my pockets to search them, and plucked out my comb-case, and afterwards commanded one of his officers to search further for letters, as he pretended. I told him, I was no letter-carrier, and asked him, why he came amongst a peaceable people with swords and pistols, without a constable, contrary to the king's proclamation and to the late act 1 for he could not say, there was a meeting, I being only talking with a poor widow-woman and her daughter. By reasoning thus with him, he came somewhat down; yet sending for the constables, he gave them charge of us that night, and to bring us before him next morning. Accordingly the constables set a watch of the town's people upon us that night, and had us next morning to his house about a mile from Swanington. When we came before him, he told us, ‘We met contrary to the act.' I desired him to show us the act. “Why, (says he,) you have it in your pocket.’ I told him, he did not find us in a meeting. Then he asked, “Whether we would take the oaths of allegiance and supremacy " I told him, I never took any oath in my life, nor engagement, nor the covenant. Yet still he would force the oath upon us. Then I desired him to show us the oath, that we might see whether we were the persons it was to be tendered to, and whether it was not for the discovery of popish recusants. At length he brought a little book, but we called for the statute-book. He would not show us that, but caused a mittimus to be made, which mentioned, “that we were to have had a meeting.” With this mittimus he delivered us to the constables to convey us to Leicester gaol. But when the constables had brought us back to Swanington, being harvest time, it was hard to get any body to go with us. The people were loath to take their neighbours to prison,

specially in such a busy time. They would have given us our mittimus to have carried ourselves to the goal; for it had been usual for constables to give Friends their own mittimuses, and they have gone themselves with them to the gaoler. But we told them, though our friends had sometimes done so, we would not take this mittimus; but some of them should go with us to the gaol. At last they hired a poor labouring man, who was loath to go though hired. So we rode through the country to Leicester, being five in number; some carried their bibles open in their hands, declaring truth to the people as we rode in the fields and through the towns, and telling them, “We were prisoners of the Lord Jesus Christ, going to suffer bonds for his name and truth's sake.' One woman

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Friend carried her wheel on her lap to spin on in prison, and the people were mightily affected. At Leicester we went to an inn. The master of the house seemed to be troubled that we should go to prison; and being himself in commission, he sent for lawyers in the town to advise with, and would have taken up the mittimus, and kept us in his own house, and not have let us gone into the gaol. But I told Friends, it would be great charge to lie at an inn, many Friends and people would come to visit us, and it might be hard for him to bear our having meetings in his house: besides, we had many Friends in the prison already, and we had rather be with them. So we let the man know we were sensible of his kindness, and to prison we went ; the poor man that brought us thither delivering both the mittimus and us to the gaoler. This gaoler had been a very wicked cruel man. Six or seven Friends being in prison before we came, he had taken some occasion to quarrel with them, and had thrust them into the dungeon amongst felons, where was hardly room for them to lie down, they were so thronged. We staid all that day in the prison yard, and desired the gaoler to let us have some straw. He surlily answered, ‘You do not look like men that would lie on straw. After a while William Smith came to me, and being acquainted in the house, I asked him, what rooms there were in the house, and what room Friends had been usually put in before they were put into the dungeon? I asked him also, whether the gaoler or his wife was master he said, the wife was master; and though she was lame, and sat mostly in her chair, not being able to go but on crutches, yet she would beat her husband when he came within her reach, if he did not as she would have him. I considered that many Friends might probably come to visit us, and if we had a room to ourselves, it would be better for them to speak to me, and for me to speak to them, as there should be occasion. Wherefore, I desired William Smith to speak with the woman, and acquaint her, if she would let us have a room, suffer our Friends to come out of the dungeon, and leave it to us to give her what we would, it might be better for her. He went, and after some reasoning with her she consented; and we were had into a room. Then we were told, the gaoler would not suffer us to have any drink brought out of the town into the prison, but what beer we drank we must take of him. I told them, I would remedy that if they would; for we would get a pail of water, and a little wormwood once a day, and that might serve us; so we should have none of his beer, and the water he could not deny us.

Before we came, when those few Friends that were prisoners met together on first-days, if any of them was moved to pray to the Lord, the gaoler would come up with his great quarter-staff in his hand, and his mastiff dog at his heels, and pluck them down by the hair of the head, and strike them with his staff; but when he struck Friends, the

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