'Now I come also to the glorious exit of E. Burrough, that valiant hero. For several years he had been very much in London, and had there preached the gospel with piercing and powerful declarations. And that city was so near to him, that oftentimes, when persecution grew hot, he said to Francis Howgill, his bosom friend, "I can go freely to the city of London, and lay down my life for a testimony of that truth, which I have declared through the power and spirit of God." Being in this year [1662] at Bristol, and thereabouts, and moved to return to London, he said to many of his friends, when he took leave of them, that he did not know he should see their faces any more; and therefore he exhorted them to faithfulness and steadfastness, in that wherein they had found rest for their souls. And to some he said, "I am now going up to the city of London again, to lay down my life for the gospel, and suffer among friends in that place."'[26] Thus it befell that Edward Burrough was called to a more deadly wrestling match than any in the pleasant London fields. He was thrown into prison, and there he had to face a mortal foe in the gaol-fever that was then raging in that noisome den. This was to wrestle in grim earnest, with Death himself for an adversary; and in this wrestling match Death was the conqueror. Charles the Second was now on the throne. He knew and respected Edward Burrough, and did his best to rescue him. Knowing the pestilential and overcrowded state of Newgate at that time, the Merry Monarch, to his lasting credit, sent a royal warrant for the release of Edward Burrough and some of the other prisoners, when he heard of the danger they were in from the foul state of the prison. But this order a certain cruel and persecuting Alderman, named Richard Brown, and some magistrates of the City of London contrived to thwart. The prisoners remained in the gaol. Edward Burrough caught the fever, and grew rapidly worse. On his death-bed he said, 'Lord, forgive Richard Brown, who imprisoned me, if he may be forgiven.' Later on he said, 'I have served my God in my generation, and that Spirit, which has lived and ruled in me shall yet break forth in thousands.' 'The morning before he departed his life ... he said, "Now my soul and spirit is centred into its own being with God; and this form of person must return from whence it was taken...."' A few moments later, in crowded Newgate, he peacefully fell asleep. 'This was the exit of E. Burrough, who in his flourishing youth, about the age of eight and twenty, in an unmarried state, changed this mortal life for an incorruptible, and whose youthful summer flower was cut down in the winter season, after he had very zealously preached the gospel about ten years.'[27] Francis Howgill, now left desolate and alone, poured forth a touching lament for his vanished 'yoke-fellow.'