%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> IAMES FRANKLIN / A Kentishman of Maidstone, his ovvne / Arraignment, Confession, Condemnation, and Iudgement / of Himselfe, whilst hee lay Prisoner in the Kings Bench / for the Poisoning of Sir Thomas Ouerbury. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1615-1615 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 10/24/2018 36329

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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

S3213 I Am Arraign'd at the black dreadfull Barre, / Where Sinnes (so red as Scarlet) Iudges are; Society of Antiquaries of London - Broadsides Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 2: 146 IAMES FRANKLIN / A Kentishman of Maidstone, his ovvne / Arraignment, Confession, Condemnation, and Iudgement / of Himselfe, whilst hee lay Prisoner in the Kings Bench / for the Poisoning of Sir Thomas Ouerbury. JAMES FRANKLIN A Kentishman of Maidstone, his own Arraignment, Confession, Condemnation, and Judgment of Himself, whilst he lay Prisoner in the King's Bench for the Poisoning of Sir Thomas Overbury. 1615-1615 J.T.

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction / health alcohol Americas animals / nature Bible / biblical figures buildings / architecture catastrophe children class clothing / appearance country / nation crime death economics / commerce entertainments family Featured folklore gender holidays / seasons infidelity labor / craft law London love maritime marriage military / war monstrosity mythology / Classical news nobility / court politics / government procreation punishment race / ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious groups royalty rural life servitude sex / sexuality supernatural / magic travel trickery / deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth / age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 10/24/2018 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America crime law punishment Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 10/24/2018 11:13:56 AM XBallad Messner, Milena Created XML Version of Ballad 10/24/2018 11:13:56 AM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/24/2018 11:13:56 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/24/2018 11:13:56 AM Transcriptionist Two Stark, Nicole Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/24/2018 11:13:56 AM Transcriptionist One Raychawdhuri, Anita Transcription of ballad manuscript 8/30/2017 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 8/21/2018 Checker Minh Hua Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 12/13/2017 Checker Kristen McCants Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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I Am Arraign'd at the black dreadfull Barre, Where Sinnes (so red as Scarlet) Judges are; All my Inditements are my horrid Crimes, Whose Story will affright succeeding Times, As (now) they drive the present into wonder, Making Men tremble, as trees struck with Thunder. If any askes what Evidence comes in, O' tis my Conscience, which hath ever bin A thousand witnesses: and now it tells A Tale, to cast me to ten thousand Hells. The Jury are my Thoughts (upright in this,) They sentence me to death for doing amisse: Examinations more there need not then, Than what's confest heere both to God and Men. The Crier of the Court is my black Shame, Which when it cals my Jury, doth proclaime Unles (as they are summon'd) they appeare, To give true Verdict of the Prisoner, They shall have heavy Fines uppon them set, Such, as may make them dye deep in Heavens debt. About mee round sit Innocence and Truth, As Clerkes to this high Court; and little Ruth From Peoples eies is cast upon my face. Because my facts are barbarous, damn'd, and base. The Serjeants that about mee (thick) are plac't, To guard me to my death, (when I am cast) Are the black stings my speckled soule now feeles, Which like to Furies dog me close at heeles. The Hangman, that attends me is Despaire, And gnawing wormes my fellow-Prisoners are. His first Inditement for Murder. THe first who (at this Sessions) loud doth call me, Is Murder, whose grim visage doth appall me, His eyes are fires, his voyce rough windes outrores, And on my head the Divine Vengeance scores: So fast and fearfully I sinke to grownd, And wish I were in twenty Oceans drownd. He sayes I have a bloudy villaine bin, And (to prove this) ripe Evidence steps in, Brow'd like myselfe: Justice so brings about, That black sinnes still hunt one another out: 'Tis like a rotten frame ready to fall, For one maine Post being shaken, puls downe all. To this Indictment, (holding up my hand,) Fettered with Terrors more then Irons I stand, And being ask'd what to the bill I say, Guilty I cry. O dreadfull Sessions-day! His second Indictment for poysoning. ANother, forthwith bids me come to'th Barre, (Poyson) that Hel-borne cunning Sorcerer, That windes himselfe into a thousand formes,
And when the day is brightest flings downe stormes. This hath an Angels face, a Mermaids tongue, And notes of much destruction it hath sung. This, is the Coward Sinne, which (like a Pill,) When 'tis most gulded, is most sure to kill. Whether this Hel-hownd strike at Morne or Night, So trecherous, close, and speedy in his fight, That Armors all-of-proofe, nor Towers of Stone, Can barre his bloody Execution. This Snake with the smooth skin hiss'd out my name Mongst others more, and venom'd me with shame That rancles to the soule. It sayes that I (For a poore golden handfull) did defie Heaven and Salvation, when I gave consent To teare the bowels of an Innocent With lingring poysons of themselves too strong, But that their working God put off so long; That darker deeds (by this) the light may try, Which now perhaps in worser bosomes lye. To this Inditement holding up my hand, (Fettered with Terrors more then Irons I stand) And being askd what to the Bill I say, Guilty I cry. O dreadfull Sessions-Day! His third for raising of Spirits etc. IN rushes then a heape of Accusations, For all those Godlesse damn'd Abhominations: Rais'd by the black Art, and a Conjurers spelles: As to call Spirits even from the deepest Hells, To fetch back theeves that with stoln goods are gone, And calculate nativities: such a one Credulity of fooles and women made me, And to that glorious infamy betraide me. A Cunning man, a Wise man were my stile, When I both plaid the Foole and Knave the while. Art knew I none, nor did I ever reach A bough of learnings tree; what I did teach To others, or did practise, it was all Cheating, false, apish, diabollicall. To this being likewise ask'd, what I can say, I guilty cry. O dreadfull Sessions day! This Divells coate to my body made I fit, Brave was the outside, thrid-bare was the wit. His Judgment. FOr these thick Stygian streams in which th'ast swom Thy guilt hath on the laid this bitter doome; Thy loath'd life on a tree of shame must take A leave compeld by Law, er'e old age make Her signed pass-port ready. Thy offence, No longer can for daies on earth dispense Time blot thy name out of this bloody roule, And so the Lord have mercy on thy soule.
Hee was executed the 9. of December. 1615. Imprinted at London for J.T.