Save a Thiefe from the Gallowes and he'll hang thee if he can,
Or, The mercifull father, and the mercilesse sonne.
To the tune of Fortune my foe.
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YOU disobedient children marke my fall,
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And by my timelesse end take warning all:
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Against mine owne deare father I have done
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A deed, the like did never gracelesse sonne.
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In blooming yeares I was intic'd to sinne,
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Ere I perceiv'd what danger lay therein:
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And so from day to day untill this houre,
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To leave the same I had not any power.
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My mother dead, my father cockered me,
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As men will doe when motherlesse we be:
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And nothing thought he then for me too deare,
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Which brought me thus into a gracelesse feare.
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And thus as I to elder yeares did grow,
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By wicked courses got I timelesse woe,
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Each vaine delight belonging to yong men,
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Deceived me, and brought my ruine then.
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The deadly sinnes that are in number seaven,
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Without more grace have lost me joyes in heaven:
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From first to last of those same deadly crimes,
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Have made me now a monster of these times.
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For wanting meanes to nourish up delight,
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I went the wrong, and left the wayes of right:
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Which to maintain, my father being growne poore,
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Forgetting God, I daily robd for more.
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Three times he sav'd me from the gallow-tree,
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Three times he cast himselfe in debt for me:
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Three times he set me up in good estate,
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In hope to keepe me from untimely fate.
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By me the proverb is fulfilled here,
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Who saves a thiefe from gallowes findes it deare
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For saving me I sought his deare lifes woe,
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[My] gentle fathers timeless overthrow.
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So wanting meanes still to relieve my need,
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Put me in minde to doe a hatefull deed,
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And seeke by bloud the highway unto sinne,
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Who wanting grace, I soone grew perfect in.
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My fathers brother of good livings knowne,
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Being dead, (as next of kin) they were mine owne
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The which I wrought by these accursed hands,
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To be made heire of all my uncles lands.
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With mind prepar'd for murther thus I went
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Into the field which he did much frequent:
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Where meeting him, with my owne fathers knife
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Which I had stolne, I tooke full soone his life.
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And laid it then all bloudyed by his side,
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That all might see my uncle therewith dyde:
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And challeng'd it my Fathers knife to be,
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When people came his murdred corps to see.
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O homicide! Oh cursed viprous brood,
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Like Cain to seeke my dearest fathers blood:
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My owne deare Father being thus betrayd,
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I, his owne child, the evidence was made.
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So judg'd to death for that he never did,
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The Lord in mercy did the same forbid:
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For as he was to execution led,
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A world of torments in my bosome bred.
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To see him stand upon the Gallow-tree,
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From which before (good man) he saved me,
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I could not chuse but tell what I had done,
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And so confest myselfe a wicked sonne.
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Gods judgement here is rightly shewne, said I,
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Deare Father I have slaine him, let me die:
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Oh let me die, and set my father free,
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Or else like Judas shall I damned be.
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WHereat the people all in that same place,
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There praised God that gave me so much grace,
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To quit my Father from the crying sin,
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Where I with blood red streames am drowned in.
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My Father sav'd, and I to prison sent,
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Where now I lye with many a sad lament:
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Which when you heare, you cannot chuse but say,
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Repentance comes before my dying day.
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