Charity's house and this are built many miles
asunder. One thing notwithstanding is here praiseworthy, for men in this
persecution cannot choose but prove good Christians, in that they are a
kind of martyrs, and suffer for the truth. And yet it is so cursed a
piece of land that the son is ashamed to be his father's heir in it. It
is an infected pest-house all the year long; the plague-sores of the law
are the diseases here hotly reigning. The surgeons are atomies and
pettifoggers, who kill more than they cure. Lord have mercy upon us, may
well stand over these doors, for debt is a most dangerous and catching
city pestilence. Some take this place for the walks in Moorfields (by
reason the madmen are so near), but the crosses here and there are not
alike. No, it is not half so sweet an air. For it is the dunghill of the
law, upon which are thrown the ruins of gentry, and the nasty heaps of
voluntary decayed bankrupts, by which means it comes to be a perfect
medal of the iron age, since nothing but jingling of keys, rattling of
shackles, bolts, and grates are here to be heard. It is the horse of
Troy, in whose womb are shut up all the mad Greeks that were men of
action. The _nullum vacuum_ (unless in prisoners' bellies) is here truly
to be proved. One excellent effect is wrought by the place itself, for
the arrantest coward breathing, being posted hither, comes in three days
to an admirable stomach. Does any man desire to learn music; every man
here sings "Lachrymse" at first sight, and is hardly out.
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