%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> Capt. WHITNEY's Confession:/ OR, HIS/ Penitent Lamentation,/ Under a Sence of a Guilty Conscience, on the Day of/ his Execution at the Porter's Block, near Smithfield-Bars, which/ was on the First of February, 1693. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1693 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 03/22/2008 20801

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

2.186 R234368 1 Johnson's Farewel Russell's Farewell Johnson's Farewell THe fatal day is come at last,/ of sorrow, grief, and shame, 'tis just that I should die. [with variations] date from title; text of original faces left and in facsimile the text faces right. Pepys 2.186 Rollins (1) VI:320-324; Wing C487[a]A Pepys Library The Pepys ballads : facsimile volume Editor W.G. Day D.S. Brewer Cambridge [England] 1987 Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 2: 186 Capt. WHITNEY's Confession:/ OR, HIS/ Penitent Lamentation,/ Under a Sence of a Guilty Conscience, on the Day of/ his Execution at the Porter's Block, near Smithfield-Bars, which/ was on the First of February, 1693. Capt. WHITNEY's Confession: OR, HIS Penitent Lamentation, Under a Sence of Guilty Conscience, on the Day of his Execution at the Porter's Block, near Smithfield-Bars, which was on the First of February, 1693. Captain Whitney's Confession: Or, His Penitent Lamentation, Under a Sense of a Guilty Conscience, on the Day of His Execution at the Porter's Block, Near Smithfield-bars, Which was on the First of February, 1693. 1/2 sheet oblong folio, 183 x 288 cropped right edge, damaged surface, uneven inking funerary border: 133 x 7, horizontal rule 1693 London: Printed for P. Brooksby, J. Deacon, J. Blare, and J. Back. P. Brooksby, J. Deacon, J. Blare, J. Back Weinstein: title

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 Taxonomy used by Pepys to Organize Ballads in Albums A Small Promiscuous Supplement Devotion & Morality Drinking & Good Fellowship History - True & Fabulous Humour, Frollicks &c Love Pleasant Love Pleasant and Unfortunate Love Unfortunate Marriage Sea State & Times Tragedy Various Subjects Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/health alcohol animals/nature appearance Bible/biblical figures buildings/architecture catastrophe children class clothing/fashion country/nation crime death economics/trade entertainment family/procreation folklore gender historical figures & events holidays/seasons infidelity law London love maritime marriage military/war monstrosity mythology/Classical world news nobility/court politics/government punishment religious concepts religious figures religious types & sects royalty rural life servitude sex/sexuality supernatural/magic The New World travel trickery/deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgarities/crass humor Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 3/22/2008 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Tragedy 03/22/2008 Checker Kris McAbee Transcription corrected 9/11/07 Checker Rachel Mann Transcription checked, metadata updated, XML created 12/14/06 Transcriber Talya Meyers Original transcription 8/21/2004 Bibliographer Maggie Sloan/Jessica Murphy Bibliographic SQL Database Record Created
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T He fatal day is come at last, of sorrow, grief, and shame, Which will the fading glory blast, of Whitney now by name. My wicked life has been the cause of this sad destiny; For since I broke the Nation's laws, 'tis just that I should die.
Here to the world I freely leave these lines, my last farewel; And though I do not seem to grieve, yet conscience, like a hell, Does wrack and fill my soul with dread, and does against me cry; The wicked life which I have led, makes me afraid to die.
The dreadful oaths which I have swore, comes fresh into my mind, When the Great God I come before, shall I a pardon find? Who did for sad damnation call, when in my villany; I under his displeasure fall, which makes me fear to die. 'Tis true, a chearful countenance I seeminly do bear, But now my most unhappy chance, drives me unto dispair; Were conscience clear, what would I give, all that I have, for why? The thoughts of how I here did live, makes me afraid to die. I robb'd the roads both night and day, young harlots to maintain, From honest men I took away, and gave it gills again; Whom I lov'd better than a wife, I cannot this deny; Yet this perfidious wretched life, makes me afraid to die. With loaded pistol in my hand, myself among the rest, Would force the travellers to stand, with pistols at their breast, Their purses to give up with speed, or soon the shot should flie; To think of which my heart doth bleed, I am afraid to die.
What though I suffer on a tree, it is not that I fear; But oh! what will become of me, if God should be severe? To me who all my days have spent with thieves continually, And ne'er did in the least repent, therefore I fear to die. My brother Holland , and the rest are gone five days before, While I in sorrow am opprest, my heart is grieved sore; This seems a second death to be, and I in sorrow cry, And hope you all will pitty me, who now at last must die. I sigh at my sad destiny, my very heart does bleed: Alas! why did they flatter me, with hopes of being freed? Why did they bring me a reprieve? O tell me, tell me why? Yet I at last the world must leave, and be compell'd to die. Farewel thou world, I must imbrace the bitter pangs of death, And here in shame and sad disgrace, surrender up my breath; For which this day I hither came, so sad's my destiny; And tho' I startle at the same, 'tis just that I should die.
London: Printed for P. Brooksby, J. Deacon, J. Blare, and J. Back.