and Hoods all rent, and none of them sober: Damming and Sinking were the constant flourishes of their discourse; calling for drink was the Argument they held, and roaring in distracted notes was their Harmony. Though I was my self comparatively wicked, yet I blessed my God I had not arrived to that height these superlative Villains had attained to. Being in their company, I thought myself in the Suburbs, or on the confines of Hell. Sin, if it be dressed up in specious pretences, may be entertained as a Companion; but when it appears in its own shape, it cannot but strike horror into the Soul of any, though desperate, if not stupified. Wherefore me thought I was so far from associating my self with them, that I protest, the leudness of their Actions were so represented to me with such deformity, that I knew not which I loathed most, them or the Prison. I cannot make appear to the world what they were, nor my resentments, unless I should stuff a page or two with all manner of horrid Oaths, Execrations, Blasphemies and such like soul-infecting & destroying Plague-sores; wherefore I shall onely take leave to anatomize the Place that deteined us from our freedom. Then look upon a Prison as in it self, and it may be fitly termed a temporary Hell. For as the other is a receptacle for damned Souls, the Gates thereof standing always wide open; so this refuseth the reception of none, though never so wicked a miscreant. Though my durance in this place was but short, yet I could not but take some observations, imploying from thence the faculties of my Soul to draw up the definition of a Prison. Hell is a very proper denomination for it, since it is a place composed of nothing but disorder and confusion; a Land of darkness, inhabited by calamity, horror, misery, and confusion; a bottomless Pit of fraud, violence and stench. A Prison is the Banishment of Courtesie, the Centre of Infamy and Disparagement, the Destruction of good Wits, the Treasure of Despair, the Fining-Pot of Friendship, a Den of Deceivers, a Forest of Ravenous Beasts. Here you may see one Weeping, another singing; one Sleeping, another Swearing; every one variously imployed; one Eating in a corner, and another Pissing just by him; another Lowsing himself between both; it may be heretofore a military man, and therefore loath to forget his Art, but rather exercising it in the killing of his bodily Enemies, bearing the blood on his nail, as the Trophies of his Victory. It is, to speak most properly, a living Tomb or grave to bury men alive in, wherein a man for half a years experience may learn more Law, then he can in three Terms for an hundred pound. It is a little Wood of woe, a Map of misery, a place that will learn a young man more villany, if he be apt to take it, in six months, than at twenty Gaming Ordinaries, Bowling-Allies, or Bawdy-houses; and an old man more policy, than if he had been Pupil to _Machiavel_.