[The lamentation of Edward Bruton, and James Riley, who
for t]he bloody murder committed on the bodies of Henry
[H]owell, and his wife, upon Queenes Downe, were execu-
ted and hanged in chaines, neere the same place on the 18.
day of March. 1633.
To the tune of, Fortune my Foe.
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[KInd] Countreymen and our acquaintance all,
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[Example] take by this our sodaine fall,
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[Dip not your] hands in blood that's innocent,
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[For which offe]nce we both too late repent.
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[The crying sinn]es of murther pierceth heaven,
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[And great repe]ntance craves to be forgiven,
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[One bloody dee]d deserves ten thousand deaths:
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[But we bere]aved divers of their breaths.
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[The har]melesse man that did no hurt intend,
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[Most] butcher-like we brought unto his end,
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[A]nd that good woman his most loving wife
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Inhumanely bereaved we of life,
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She great with child (oh how it grieves our hearts
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That we should act such bloody tragicke parts!)
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The harmelesse infant that was in her wombe,
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We likewise slew, whose mother was its tombe.
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Their other children sitting by the fire
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We likewise hurt, who mercy did require,
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But [we] no mercy had, nor grace at all,
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When as these Babes for life did cry and call.
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And for the same no mercy here we find:
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Deserved death are for our sinnes assign'd,
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Death is our doome, we here our lives must pay,
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Our glasse is out, this is our dying day.
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[A s]hamelesse end for our most shamefull sinne
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[W]e must receive, that we have lived in,
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[Her]e on this tree we must resigne our breath:
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[Yet] thats not all, though here we die this death.
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[Our bo]dies must no buriall place possesse,
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[Thi]s our doome for our vild wickednesse,
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[Twixt] Earth & Heaven we here must hang in chains
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[As lo]ng as sinewes, flesh or bones remaines.
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[Fo]wles of the aire our eyes they forth will pull,
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[F]eed on our flesh, and peck upon our scull,
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We shall be pointing stocks to every one
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That passeth by, though we are dead and gone.
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[Ea]rth scornes to hide our bodies from the light,
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[But] in the ayre must tottering hang in sight,
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[And h]ere in Kent we ne're shall bee forgat,
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[Altho]ugh our joints by piecemeale dropping rot,
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Unto each other Travellers will say,
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See you those Murtherers, as they passe this way,
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Those are the villaines that the blood did spill
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Of innocents, thats hanging on yon hill.
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Thus shall we be discourse for after-times,
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Which we deserve most justly for our crimes,
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And we shall be recorded for this fact,
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That we so mercilesse and foule did act.
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Great God forgive our sinnes that are so foule,
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And unto mercy take each sinfull Soule,
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Deale not in Justice with our sinnes, O Lord,
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But grace and pardon to our soules afford.
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Thy mercy (Lord) is greater than our sinne,
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And if thou please in Heaven to let us in,
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We doe repent us of our wicked deed,
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The thought of which doth make our soules to bleed,
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But woe to him that was the cause of this,
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Which did intice us first to doe amisse,
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Oh bloody Darbie, it was long of thee
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We did consent to do this villanie.
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Though thou art fled, yet God will find thee out,
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And will take vengeance on thee, there's no doubt,
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Hee'l not let scape so foule and vild a crime,
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As he hath justly done on us this time.
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But we confesse, we have deserv'd to dye,
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And to the Lord we now for mercy cry:
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Receive us, Jesus Christ, to thee we pray,
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Whose precious blood wash all our sinnes away.
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Thus have you heard how these same two did dye,
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Ending their lives with shame and infamy,
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And one of them that was on th'other side,
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Converted, and a Protestant he dide.
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The Lord (no doubt) to them did mercy lend,
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Who were so penitent before their end,
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Their soules I hope in Heaven above doe dwell:
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But yet another bloody tale Ile tell.
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