The Crowd and throng of People was so great about us, that the Constable made what speed he could to Shop us, so that we were forced to march a-pace, a thing that would vex a Horse to be on a Hand-Gallop to his own throat cutting. The Boys and Girls swarm’d about me, some calling me singly, Thief; others, theeving Bastard; which unpleasant sounds did so often beat against the Drum of my ear, that angers Heroick passion was quickly alarm’d, and did soon put it self into a posture of revenge. Though I knew my self basely born, yet I found my blood had the same heat and height of that of Princes; and though I was too sensible of the Guilt of their aspersions, yet my lofty Spirit would not brook to be upbraided therewith; wherefore, if any with his reproaches came so near, as that I could reach him with my Fist, I would not there fail to ring him a Peal. I had dasht so many in the Face, Eyes, and Mouth, or wherever I could best strike, that I engaged a young Army of Enemies against me, who in Front and Rear, nay, on each wing too, did so desperately assault me, that had I had the hands of a score of _Briariuses_ they would have been to few, if no stronger than mine. The Constable at last was forc’d to be my Champion, who so bravely defended me, as not to deprive me of my offending my numerous Foes. You must not imagine that our good Matron went along more quietly than my self, who, (while I was so disadvantagiously fighting my way through) was pelted on all sides with rotten Apples, Addle Egs, Dirt, or whatever was filthy or loathsom; so that by that time we got to the Gaol, she was now fitter for a Pest-house than a Prison, having all those stinking ingredients about her, that are the common procurers of an universal Contagion. She no sooner entred the Gate, but the Prisoners cryed out, sough, what have you brought hither? Do you think Want and Vermin will not kill us fast enough, but you must thus poyson us? Such Criminals as were so skilful as to know their own Fortunes, were in hopes that the stench of this woman would save the Judge the trouble of Condemning; and the Sheriff the labour of hanging them. Others who knew they should not die that Sessions of a suffocating Quinsy, laid presently violent hands on her, and dragging her into the Yard, there Pumpt her sweet and clean. The next work was to Hand-cuff us, and clap bolts between our Legs. My Godfathers (the Churchwardens of the Parish) hearing of their graceless God-childs confinement, came to visit me, who were worse than ever _Jobs_ comforters were, for they only upbraided them of those secret sins which had thus publickly disgraced him; but these told me, shame was too mild a punishment, and hanging was too good for me. In short, that should be my end, and wisht I had saved the Parish from charges, by being hanged some years before. My Grandam hearing what a sad sentence my Ghostly-Fathers pronounced against me, and that I must inevitably go