To the most excellent Prince James Duke of Monmouth, &c.

I have often wondered that the cruelties as well as villainies of the Romish Church have not long before this provoked Almighty God to avenge upon her all the blood of his saints, which she hath every where, as so much water, spilt upon the face of the whole earth; but reflecting upon the many sins of God's own people, which certainly have been the only cause of the withholding of his most just and expected judgments from being poured forth upon her from the fullest vials of his wrath, I have again considered of the justice as well as goodness of God herein; justice to be revealed from heaven upon her, when the fulness of her abominations shall be accomplished; and his goodness and mercy to his people, in purging them by these his chastisements from the dross and sin of their iniquities. Here we have a revelation of the great God in two of his greatest and most glorious attributes, his mercy and his judgment, according to their respective objects. The holy King and Prophet David wondered no less than he grieved at this matter, till he went into the sanctuary of God, where he understood the end of wicked men, and that verily there is a reward for the righteous, and a God that judgeth in the earth.' With what antichristian, no less than inhuman, cruelty she hath behaved herself towards the saints and servants of God, whom she calls Hereticks, this small history will sufficiently acquaint your grace, and will, I hope, prove a sufficient alarm to the nation, to rouse her up as one man, to prevent and hinder the rooting or springing of her vile superstitions here for the time to come. No, sir, the people of England are doubtless sufficiently cautioned and fortified against any such attempt; however, it may not perhaps be unseasonable to remind them, and fully set before them the barbarous cruelties and unchristian severities, wherewith the holy inquisition, for so they falsly stile it, is to the shame and sorrow of the best amongst them in foreign countries, where it is suffered in the highest pitch of rigour to be managed; no, we hope so great is the goodness of God, both towards our prince and people, that it is past not only the strength, but malice of our Romish adversaries to hurt either his sacred person or the government. May the good will of him that dwelt in the bush preserve and ever keep your grace from any of their wicked attempts upon your excellency's person, from dividing you from your prince's favour, or, which can never be, our most sacred and ever dread sovereign from his good subjects and people; and let all true-hearted Englishmen say, Amen. Your grace's most humble servant,

and daily orator,

RICH. DUGDALE.

W

HEN King Ferdinand and Isabel had expelled the Turks out of the city and territories of Granada, and other places of Spain, who had lived there seven hundred and seventy-eight years, they set upon the reformation of religion, and gave the conquered Moors liberty to stay, and to enjoy all their goods, provided they would turn Chris tians; and, whereas also there were many Jews, who had continued there since Titus conquered Jerusalem, they gave them leave to stay, upon the same condition; but all such, as refused, were com. manded presently to depart out of Spain: yet afterwards, finding that those persons were Christians only in name, and had submitted only to save their estates, instead of providing godly ministers with meekness to instruct them, and to reprove them for their errors, by the advice of the Dominican friars, they erected the inquisition; wherein the poor wretches, instead of instruction, were robbed of all their estates, and either put to most cruel deaths, or else suffered most intolerable torments, by whipping, &c. and led the rest of their lives in ignominy and poverty. Neither was this inflicted only upon such as blasphemed

Christ, but for the observation of the least Jewish or Moorish ceremony, or the smallest error in the Christian religion. But this inquisition, at first erected against Jews and Moors, was afterwards turned against the faithful servants of Jesus Christ, and for the suppressing of the gospel and the profession of it.

As soon as information is given in against any one, though but for a very small matter, they do not presently cite the person to appear before them; but they suborn one of their own officers, called a Familiar, to insinuate himself into his company; who, taking occasion to meet the party thus accused, uses thus to greet him: Sir, I was yesterday, by accident, at my lords inquisitors, who said, that they had occa'sion to speak with you about certain of their affairs; and therefore they commanded me to summon you to appear before them to-mor row, at such an hour.' The party, daring not to refuse, goes to the place, and sends in word, that he is come to attend on them; and so, when he is called in, they ask him, what suit he hath to them? And, when he answers, that he comes upon summons, they enquire his name; for, say they, we know not, whether you are the same man, or not, but, since you are come in, if you have any thing to inform this court of, either concerning yourself, or any other, you may let us hear it, for the discharge of your own conscience. The party's safest way is constantly to deny that he hath any thing to declare to them; but if, through simplicity, he doth accuse himself, or any other, they rejoice, as having attained their desires, and so presently commit him to prison. If nothing be confessed, they dismiss him, pretending that, for the present, they know not whether he be the party, or no. After his departure, they let him alone for some space, and then send for him again, exhorting him, that, if he know, or hath heard any thing, that concerns their holy court, he disclose it to them; for, say they, we know that you have had dealings with some person suspected in religion; and therefore remember yourself well: if you confess, you shall fare the better, and you shall but do therein, as a good Christian ought to do. If still he refuse, they threaten, and so dismiss him.

Yet they have always one or other to keep him company, to creep into his bosom, and grope into his conscience; who, under the colour of friendship, shall visit him daily, and have an eye to all his dealings; observe what company he keepeth, with whom he confers, &c. so that, without God's special assistance, it is not possible to escape their snares. The inquisitors also, if they meet him, speak courteously to him, promise to befriend him, &c. and all to make him more careless of himself, that they may undo him before he be aware: but, if the party be a stranger, or one that is like to make an escape, or from whom they hope to gain any thing by his confession, they presently clap him up in prison; in which prison great numbers die, either starved with hunger, or by extremity of racking of them, &c.

If any one, that is accused, chance to make an escape, they have many devices to find and fetch him in again: they have store of search. ers, to whom, besides the common signs, they give his lively picture, whereby they may easily know him. An Italian, at Rome, having wounded an apparitor, fled to Seville; the Familiar swere sent to seek

him, and, when they had found him, though they had his counterfeit, yet, by reason that he had altered his habit, they were doubtful whether it was he, or no; the rather, because he had changed his name ; whereupon, they followed him only upon suspicion; but one day, as he was walking, and earnestly talking with some gentlemen, two of those familiars suddenly called him by his old name: the party, earnest in talk, and not minding it, looked behind him, and made answer; whereupon they presently apprehended him, clapped him in irons for a long time, then whipped him, and condemned him to the gallies, during his life. So soon as any is arrested by the familiars, they take from him all the keys of his locks or chests whatsoever; and then they take an inventory of all his goods, leaving them to some man that will undertake to be accountable for them; but, in the sequestering, or rifling the houses, if they have any gold, silver, or jewels, these familiars (which are usually bawds, thieves, shifters, and the vilest of people) will be sure to filch some of it; and the reason of this sequestration is, that, if the party be condemned, the holy inquisition may enjoy his whole estate.

As soon as the prisoner is entered within the first gate of the prison, the gaoler asketh him, if he hath a knife about him, or money, or rings, or jewels? And, if a woman, whether she hath kuives, rings, chains, bracelets, or other ornaments? And all these the gaoler strips them of, as his fee; and this is done, that the poor prisoners may have nothing to relieve themselves with, during their imprisonment; they search them also, to see whether they have any writing, or book about them, which likewise they take from them; then they shut them up in a cabin, like to a little-ease, where they have little room for cleanliness, and but little light.

Some are thus kept all alone for two or three months, some as long as they live; others have company, as the lords inquisitors please. When the party hath been in prison a week or two, the gaoler persuades him to petition for a day of hearing, telling him, the sooner the better; and that it will much further his cause, and bring it to some good effect, &c. whereas it were far better for him to stay till he be called for; for then he hath nothing to do but to answer their objections. But the poor prisoner, not knowing this mystery, is usually ruled by his keeper, intreating him to stand his friend to procure him a day of hear. ing; whose suit is easily heard, and the prisoner is brought into the consistory. Then the inquisitors ask him, what is his request? the prisoner answereth, that he would gladly have his matter heard: then they labour, by threatening him with worse usage, if he conceal the truth, to cause him to confess the thing whereof he is accused; and, if they can but draw him to this, they have their desires; for usually they draw more from him than they could have proved against him. Then they advise him to let him come from himself; promising, that, if he acknowledge his faults, he shall presently be released and sent home; if yet he stands mute, they then charge him to disburden his conscience, and, in the mean time, to return to his prison, till he hath better be thought himself, and then he may sue for a new day of hearing, and so

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they dismiss him. And, some days after, they call for him again; asking him, whether he be yet determined to tell aught? But whether he plead his innocency, or confess some little, they still urge him to disburden his conscience, and persuading him, that they advise him for the best, and in love and compassion to him; but, if he now refuse the favour proffered, he shall find them afterwards sharp justices, &c. and so send him back again to prison.

The third time he is called for, they use the like subtlety, to draw him to confession; telling him, that, if he refuse, they must use extremity, and do what they can by law; by which word, they mean extreme tormenting and mangling of him. Then, if the party confess any thing, nay, say they, we are not yet satisfied, we have not all you can say, you keep back something on purpose: and so they remand him to prison.

Having thus excruciated him day by day, if they can yet get nothing out of him, they then require an oath of him, and hold a crucifix, or cross, before him, whereby the poor Christian must at last needs shew himself; for knowing, that he ought to swear by God alone, who hath reserved this honour to himself, he must refuse the oath; which, if he do, then they read a large indictment against him, wherein they lay to his charge things that never any man accused him of, and which, it may be, himself never thought of; and this they do to amaze him, and so try if he will confess any of these misdemeanors; or, if they can trip him in his answers, and so catch him in their net. Then they put him to answer to every article, particularly, ex tempore, without any time of deliberation; then they give him pen, ink, and paper, requiring him to set down his answer in writing, to see if they can find any difference betwixt his former answer, and this: and, if the party chance to confess aught, then they enquire of whom he learned it, and whether he hath spoken of it before others, and who they are, and hereby many are brought into trouble; for, whether they liked it or not, they are sure to be questioned, because they did not come and declare it to the fathers inquisitors. Then, pretending to shew him favour, they appoint an advocate, to blind the people's eyes, as if they proceeded ac cording to the rules of justice; but this advocate dares not tell his client any point of law that may do him good, for fear of angering the inquisitors; neither may he speak privately with his client, but either before an inquisitor or a notary.

Two or three days after the party hath had the copy of his accusation, he is called into the court, where his advocate is, as if he intended to defend his cause; but, indeed, he dares say nothing to the purpose, for fear of angering the inquisitors; only he chears up his client, and bids him tell the truth in any case, as the only way to prevail in that court, and then is the prisoner sent back again; who hopes that now his case will be heard, and his business dispatched; whereas, usually, these good fathers let him lie two, or three, or four years in prison, without ever calling for him again: and if, through loathsomeness and intolerableness of the prison, any suit to come to hearing, it may be, with much ado, he obtains it; but, usually, that favour is denied them;

yet at length, when they please, they call for him to hear the deposi tions of the witnesses against him, which yet is not done, till the poor prisoner, by his grievous imprisonment, is brought so low, as that they think he will rather chuse death, than such a life, and therefore will be willing to tell all, that so he may be rid out of his misery; then, between rebuking and a gentle admonition, they tell him, that though he hath stood out so long, yet at length they would have him wiser, to confess the truth; but, if he yet refuse to be his own accuser, then the fiscal produceth the depositions, which are delivered to the prisoner; but they are drawn up so intricately and ambiguously, that he knows not what to make of them; and this they do to conceal the witnesses, lest he should except against them, and so to set him on guessing, that so, if he chance to reckon up any others, to whom he spoke any thing about any of those matters, they may, thereby, get more grist to their mill; for they presently outlaw such persons, as favourers of hereticks, for suffering an heretick to sow such pestilent seed among them, without complaining thereof to the inquisitors.

The keeper of the prison also is examined what he hath seen and observed of him in the prison; and his testimony is as good as two testimonies to take away the prisoner's life.

They have also promoters to bring in accusations, who are admitted, though frantick bedlams, or the veriest varlets that be; and if, in their informations, they chance to want words of weight, the inquisitors will help them out, and prompt them word by word. Then, after three or four days, the prisoner is called again, to put in his answer to the depositions: but, in the interim, his advocate never comes at him, to assist or direct him, but he is left to himself, without any help, save of God alone. His answer being viewed, he is remanded to prison again with this item, that, if he confess not the truth, they will extort it out of him by extremity.

After two or three months more, he is called for once again, and required to speak what he hath for himself, or else they must draw to an end; and, if he still shrinks not, but stands firm in his justification, they proceed to other dealings, in comparison of which, all their for mer dealings are not only sufferable, but seem reasonable and full of gentleness; for their future actions far exceed all barbarousness, the devil himself being not able to go beyond them in their monstrous cruelty and tyranny. For, not long after, the prisoner is called in before the inquisitors, who tell him, they have deeply considered his whole case, and found out that he doth not declare the whole truth, and therefore they are resolved that he shall be racked, that by force they may draw from him, what by fair means he will not acknowledge; and therefore they advise him, rather to do it voluntarily, and thereby to avoid the pain and peril that yet attends him: yet whether he confess, or not confess, all is one, to the rack he must go: then is he led into the place where the rack standeth, which is a deep and dark dungeon, under ground, with many doors to pass through, before a man comes to it; because the shrieks and cries of the tormented should not be heard. Then the inquisitors seat themselves upon a scaffold, hard by the rack;