The Arrainement condemnation and execution of the grand [cutpurse]
John Selman who was executed at White-hall uppon Twesday the seventh of
Jaunary. 1612 To the tune of a rich Marchant man.
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HOw happy is that man.
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that in his b[r]east doth beare:
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A [?]st heart and in his heart,
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a perfect godly feare.
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A man so blest I say,
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can no discomfort have,
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He shall not ta[s]t a shamefull death,
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to fi[l]l a [t]im[e]less[e] grave.
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Could I of this before.
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have well and wisely thought:
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I would not have imbracd the course
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this wamefull death hath brought.
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But all my mind was then,
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on ydle wicked waies.
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To shift to gull, to cog and cheate,
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and so I spent my dayes.
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A multitude of thoughts,
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as black as hell it selfe,
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The Divell put into my heart,
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to compasse worldly pelfe.
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And many waies I used,
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both wicked base and foule,
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[S]till mindfull of my body still,
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unmindfull of my soule.
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In silke and velvets faire,
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I sometime us'd to goe:
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As I had used the Marchants trade,
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forsuch I was in shew.
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And at the worst I went,
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like one of good degree,
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And often used to change my sutes.
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as needfull I should see.
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So still I leap'd untouch't,
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till this presumptuous crime,
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This mounting sinne for that reveng
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up to the Heavens did clime,
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Upon the blessed day,
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we celebrate the birth,
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O'th deere Redeemer of us all.
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with joy and Godlymirth:
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Within the house of God,
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and at the sacred houre,
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O'th blest commanion I was touched,
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with Sathans damning power,
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In presence of the King,
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Whose majesty might make,
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A[w]fil intending wre[t]ch like me,
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to staggar faint and quake.
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This mischiefe vile I did,
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I pickt a pocket there,
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Nor sacred person time nor place,
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could make me faintly feare,
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When all were at their prayers,
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and exercise divine,
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I pryed about to get my prey,
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this divelish prey of mine,
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With hands and eyes to heaven,
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all did in reverence stand:
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While I in mischife used mine eye,
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and my accursed hand,
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Now was my mischiefe ripe.
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my villanyes full growne,
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And now the God in secret knew it.
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did make it open knowne.
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I could not shift it heere,
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n[y]r no denyall stond:
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For all hhe purse was newly tooke,
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twas taken in my hand,
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And heere I stand to pay,
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the price of that offence,
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God grant no christian after me,
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may such an act commence.
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I pray my fault may s[?]
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[e]xample to you all
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Tha[t] [t]housand soules [?]
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that thus hath mad[e]
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So praying all may pr[?]
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for mercy to my God
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I yeeld to death and pa[?]
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indure this heavy t[?]
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The names of his [?]
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Commision[?]
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William Lord Kno[?]
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mas Vavasor, Sir F[?]
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Sir Arthur Gorge, [?]
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nister, and others o[?]
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Cloth. Sir Edmund [?]
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Robert Leighe & M[?]
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Gerrard.
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William Lancaster, E[?]
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John Bull, Gentlema[n]
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William Yates Yeo[man]
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Rebert Powlstone Ye[oman]
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Anthony Barklet, Yeo[man]
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George Cordall, Yeo[man]
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William Carter, Yeo[man]
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John Browne, Yeoma[n]
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John wonnam, Yeom[an]
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Edward Blacgrave, [?]
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Edward Beake, Yeom[an]
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Richard Langley, Yeo[man]
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Thomas Gawen, Yeo[man]
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Richard Gregory, Yeo[man]
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Roger Terry, Yeoman
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Edward Kiffin, Yeoma[n]
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John Whitlocke, Yeo[man]
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Richard Dyar, Yeoma[n]
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FINIS
Quoth Henry S[mith]
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The Captaine Cut-purse.
A new Ballad shewing the most notorious abuse of life of John Selman,
who for cutting a purse in the Kings Chapell at White Hall on Christ-
mas day was executed neere Charing crosse. To a new tune.
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THat men may feare the Acts,
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opugnant are to truth:
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I will anothamize the course,
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of lusty Selmans youth.
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His courses lewd and naught,
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the certaine path of death:
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As in himselfe you well may see,
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who for them lost his breath.
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All labor he cast off,
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and all religious awe:
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To ireligious actions bent,
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making his will [?] law:
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All company he us'd.
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that was prophane and nought,
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And with them all the Arts of sinne,
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he practized and wrought.
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With drunkerds hee'd carowse,
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the wicked healths they use,
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And so, (his understanding drown'd)
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would friend and foe abuse.
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As drunkerds use to doe,
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the act is too too bad:
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There is smal difference twixt a man
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thats drunke and one thats mad.
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For both's but want of sence,
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which both a like do lacke:
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And Godly unverstanding lost,
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the soule must needs to wracke.
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To this the killing sinne,
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of lust he would annex:
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And with a boyling blood pursue,
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the sinne o'th female sex.
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Counting their hell is heaven,
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dallying with their imbrace:
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Inchanted with his harlots lippe,
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dyed locke and painted face.
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with them hee'd revell rout,
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the houres of day and night:
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Counting their pleasures all his jo[y]
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their sport his best delight,
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And thus will he consume,
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the substance that his friends:
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Had to him given to be imployed,
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to good and thrifty ends.
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His stocke on strumpets vile,
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thus wasted and decaide:
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To keepe the flush of pleasure still:
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he fell tot'h cheaters trade.
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Sometimes with trickes at cards,
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sometime with cogging Dye:
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That he of purpose would prepare,
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to runne too low or hie.
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If all his wifts and trickes,
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would not prevaile to winne:
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Why there to this hee'd adde a worse
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and more presumptuous sinne.
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Hee'd get it out by oathes,
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sweare and forsweare apace:
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Without all feare of heaven or hell,
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or any thought of grace.
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Thus doth one sinne (like waves)
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runne on anothers necke:
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Unlesse (by grace) we can at first,
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our sinfull nature checke.
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And yet he stayed not heere,
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but prog[rest to] his sinnes:
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To fellony [in] [bases]t kind,
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anothers [right to] winne.
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In change of [gallant] suites,
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with all the t[?]s belongs:
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Unto the cunning cutpurse craft,
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hee'd follow crowds and throngs.
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There sometime cut a purse,
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sometime a pocket picke:
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In doing both he was a man,
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knowne very apt and quicke.
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All cheaters cutpurses,
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and pickpurses he knew:
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And was as some report of him,
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the Captaine of that crew:
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But for this sinne on earth,
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he payed the bitter price:
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God grant by his example all,
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may learne to fly his vice.
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FINIS.
Henry Smith.
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