I shall conclude this Chapter with a Relation how I was quit with my Comrades upon the account of fear or timorousness. Neither could they justly tax me with it, since they are things entail’d upon the profession. For every Crow that flies extracts a fear, and every thing that doth but stir, or make the bushes rush, seem’d to our fearful fancy a Constable to apprehend us for our Theft. I cannot forget how strong a confusion arose amongst us by a trifle; the means were so small, and the occasion so ridiculous, that when after I thought thereon (though by my self) I could not forbear laughing excessively, and condemn the temerity of such minds so meanly spirited. ’Twas thus in short: An Owle who to gain shelter from the troubles of a Sunshine day, when all the airy tribe (wandring) flock to him, screen’d himself in the obscure retired residence of an hollow tree; no sooner had he cloister’d up himself, but between discontent and something of a pleasing satisfaction he first utter’d his amazing screeks, being in a slumber, and dreaming of the assaults were made at him by his feather’d enemies of all sorts, and then again awaking, whoopt for joy that he was delivered from them; thus did he whoop and hollow incessantly, which infus’d such a terrour into our distrustful minds, that Whips, Switches and Spurs were all too few to expedite our hast. For we absolutely thought those Hollows were the out-cryes of the Country following us for what we had committed. We at length took Sanctuary in an Inn, where we had some interest and confidence in our security. Understanding that our days work had been prosperous, our Host calls lustily for Sack, which the drawer doubles in the Bar; the Hostler must be one of our company too, and hail fellow with us, who knowing what courses we take, presume we dare not cavil, lest they betray our practises. _Sic nos non nobis._ So we rob for them, and not for our selves; for by that time we have profusely frolickt (a bill whereof shall be brought in of twice as much as we called for) and have bestowed our largesses to the Servants, and offer’d up our (expected) sacrifices to our Landlady, or her Daughter, for some private favour received, we find our selves to have the least share, and so betake our selves to our trade till apprehension take from us that liberty, and the Law sentenceth us to pay our lives as a just debt we owe to Justice. CHAP. XXXII. _Scouring the Road, he lights on a Farmers house which he intended to rob, but desists from that resolution, falling in Love with his Daughter, who was exceeding beautiful; gets her with Child, under the pretence of Marriage, but afterwards refusing it, She and her Parents tax him with the undoing of the young Woman; whereupon he leaveth them, giving them no other satisfaction then what they could gather out of a Copy of Verses he sent them._