The Matchless Murder.
Giving an Account of the most horrible and bloody murthering of the most worthy
Gentleman Thomas Thin Esq; who was on Sunday February the twelfth 1682 barba-
rously killed in his own Coach by some blood-thirsty outlandish Villains, who shot
five or six Bullets into his Belly, whereof he quickly died, and the names of the
murtherers now lying in Newgate, who have confessed the same, are as followeth:
Capt. Christopher Furatz a German, George Boroskie a Polander, John Stern a German
Frederick Harder, and Amien Berg, accessaries. To the Tune of Troy Town.
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COme and assist my trembling Pen,
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while I endeavour to explain
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The bloody minds of cruel men,
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That will no wickedness refrain,
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But bloody Humors to fulfill.
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Innocent blood they daily spill.
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Now my sad story Ile begin,
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The like I think you ner did hear,
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How that Renowned Squire Thin
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Was murtherd it doth plain appear;
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Their bloody minds for to fulfill,
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This squire most horridly they kill.
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On Sunday last this Gentleman
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Clear of all Scandals or Reproach,
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At severall places he had been
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With Noble Monmouth in his Coach,
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This worthy person thought no ill,
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Whilst Villians sought his blood to spill
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And thus they passd the Streets along
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Till seven or eight a Clock at night,
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& then great Monmouth would be gone
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In whom so much he did delight,
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Poor soul he little thought of ill,
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while villains sought his blood to spil.
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His Grace he was no sooner gone,
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But this sad accident befell,
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By Villains he was set upon
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Neer to a place thats call[]d Pell-mell,
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Their Hellish minds they did fulfill
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and there his precious blood did spill.
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Up to his Coach these Villaies ride,
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As by his Servants it is said,
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With Weapons which they did provide
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Whilst he poor soul was not afraid,
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For harmless souls ner fear no ill.
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while villains seek their blood to spill
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Meeting with him as they desired,
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Their Hellish courage then grew hot,
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Into his Coach at him they fired,
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And into his belly him they shot,
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And so like Villains him they killd,
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& his most precious blood they spilld.
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Away like Villains then they fled;
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With horror doubtless in their mind,
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This worthy soul three quarters dead,
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Bleeding ith Coach they left behind:
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Now had the Villains got their will
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That sought his precious blood to spill
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When these unwelcome tydings came
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To Noble Monmouths wondring ear,
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His courage which none er could tame
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Did on a suddain plain appear,
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He strait pursud those that did spill.
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His precious blood that thought no ill
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This Noble Hero did all night
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Pursue these murtherers all in vain,
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Till Sol with his resplendant light
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Did to our sight return again,
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But could not find those that did kill
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That harmless soul as thought no ill
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But Heaven did presently find out
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What lovely Monmouth could not do,
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Twas well he was the Coach gone out,
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Or he might have been murthered too,
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I fear that they who this squire killd
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Poor Jameys blood would feign have spilld
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These Villains they were seiz[]d at last,
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And brought before his Majesty,
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This horrid thing they then confest
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Now Prisoners they in Newgate lie,
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And be condemned no doubt they will,
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that squire Thins sweet blood did spill
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