Then I desired to know, seeing they put the oath anew to me, whether the indictment was quashed or not? Instead of answering me, the judge told the jury, “they might go out.” Some of the jury were not satisfied; whereupon the judge told them, “they had heard a man swear that the oath was tendered to me the last sessions:” and then he told them what they should do. I told him, “he should leave the jury to their own consciences.” However, the jury, being put on by him, went forth, and soon came in again, and found me guilty. I asked the jury “how they could satisfy themselves to find me guilty upon that indictment, which was laid so false, and had so many errors in it?” They could make but little answer; yet one, who seemed to be the worst of them, would have taken me by the hand; but I put him by, saying, “How now Judas, hast thou betrayed me, and dost thou now come with a kiss?” So I bid him and them repent. Then the judge began to tell me, “how favourable the court had been to me.” I asked him, “how he could say so? Was ever any man worse dealt by than I had been in this case, who was stopped in my journey, when travelling upon my lawful occasions, and imprisoned without cause; and now had the oaths put to me only for a snare?” And I desired him to “answer me in the presence of the Lord, in whose presence we all were, whether this oath was not tendered me in envy?” He would not answer that, but said, “Would you had never come here to trouble us and the country.” I told him, “I came not thither of myself, but was brought, being stopped in my journey. I did not trouble them, but they had brought trouble upon themselves.” Then the judge told me, “what a sad sentence he had to tell me.” I asked him, “whether what he was going to speak was by way of passing sentence, or of information? For,” I told him, “I had many things to say, and more errors to assign in the indictment, besides those I had already mentioned, to stop him from giving sentence against me upon that indictment.” He said, “he was going to show me the danger of a premunire, which was the loss of my liberty, and of all my goods and chattels, and to endure imprisonment during life.” But he said, “he did not deliver this as the sentence of the court upon me, but as an admonition to me.” Then he bid the jailer take me away. I expected to be called again to hear the sentence; but when I was gone, the clerk of the peace (whose name was Twittey) asked him, as I was informed, “whether that which he had spoken to me should stand for sentence?” And he, consulting with some of the justices, told him, “Yes, that was the sentence, and should stand.” This was done behind my back, to save himself from shame in the face of the country.