The 28th of the Eighth month, 1659.

‘Once more to the general court assembled in Boston, speaks Mary Dyar, even as before. My life is not accepted, neither availeth me, in comparison of the lives and liberty of the Truth, and servants of the living God, for which in the bowels of love and meekness I sought you: yet, nevertheless, with wicked hands have you put two of them to death, which makes me to feel, that the mercies of the wicked are cruelty. I rather choose to die than to live, as from you, as guilty of their innocent blood: therefore seeing my request is hindered, I leave you to the righteous Judge, and searcher of all hearts, who, with the pure measure of light he hath given to every man to profit withal, will in his due time let you see whose servants you are, and of whom you have taken counsel, which I desire you to search into: but all his counsel hath been slighted, and you would none of his reproofs. Read your portion, Prov. i. 24 to 32. For verily the night cometh on you apace, wherein no man can work, in which you shall assuredly fall to your own master. In obedience to the Lord, whom I serve with my spirit, and pity to your souls, which you neither know nor pity, I can do no less than once more to warn you, to put away the evil of your doings; and kiss the Son, the light in you, before his wrath be kindled in you; for where it is, nothing without you can help or deliver you out of his hand at all; and if these things be not so, then say, there hath been no prophet from the Lord sent amongst you; though we be nothing, yet it is his pleasure, by things that are not, to bring to nought things that are.

When I heard your last order read, it was a disturbance unto me, that was so freely offering up my life to him that gave it me, and sent me hither so to do, which obedience being his own work, he gloriously accompanied with his presence, and peace, and love in me, in which I rested from my labour; till by your order and the people, I was so far disturbed, that I could not retain any more of the words thereof, than that I should return to prison, and there remain forty and eight hours; to which I submitted, finding nothing from the Lord to the contrary, that I may know what his pleasure and counsel is concerning me, on whom I wait therefore, for he is my life, and the length of my days; and as I said before, I came at his command, and go at his command.

MARY DYAR.’

The magistrates now perceiving that the putting William Robinson and Marmaduke Stevenson to death, caused great discontent among the people, resolved to send away Mary Dyar, thereby to calm their minds a little. And so she was put on horseback, and by four horsemen conveyed fifteen miles towards Rhode Island, where she was left with a horse and a man, to be conveyed the rest of the way: which she soon sent back, and so repaired home. By the style of her letters, and her undaunted carriage, it appears that she had indeed some extraordinary qualities; I find also, that she was of a comely and grave countenance, of a good family and estate, and a mother of several children: but her husband it seems was of another persuasion.

Whilst I now leave her at home, I am to say that one John Chamberlain, an inhabitant of Boston, having seen the execution of W. Robinson and M. Stevenson, was so reached by their pious speeches, that he received the doctrine of the Truth, for which they died: but his visiting those in prison was so ill resented, that afterwards he was whipped several times severely; as was also Edward Wharton, an inhabitant of Salem: who having said that the guilt of Robinson and Stevenson’s blood was so great and heavy, that he was not able to bear it, was, for this his pretended sauciness, whipped with twenty lashes, and fined twenty pounds.

But before I quite leave the persons that were hanged, I must say, that being dead, their countenances still looked fresh; (for the terror of death had not seized them.) But being cut down, they were very barbarously used, none taking hold of their bodies: which so fell down on the ground, that thereby the scull of W. Robinson was broken: and even their shirts were ripped off with a knife, and their naked bodies cast into a hole which was digged, without any covering. And when some of their friends would have laid their bodies into coffins, it was denied them. Neither would they suffer the place where the bodies were cast, to be fenced with pales, lest ravenous beasts might prey upon them.

When the people returned from the execution, many seemed sad and heavy; and coming to the drawbridge, one end of it fell upon some, and several were hurt, especially a wicked woman, who had reviled the said two persons at their death; but now she was so bruised, that her flesh rotted from her bones, which made such a noisome stink, that people could not endure to be with her: in which miserable condition she remained till she died. But the magistrates, instead of taking notice of this, grew more hardened; and priest Wilson did not stick to make a ballad on the executed.

1660.

Now I return again to Mary Dyar, who being come to Rhode Island, went from thence to Long Island, where she staid the most part of the winter: and then coming home again, she was moved to return to the bloody town of Boston, whither she came on the 21st of the Third month, 1660, and on the 31st she was sent for by the general court. Being come, the governor, John Endicot, said, ‘Are you the same Mary Dyar that was here before?’ And it seems he was preparing an evasion for her, there having been another of that name returned from Old England. But she was so far from disguising, that she answered undauntedly, ‘I am the same Mary Dyar that was here the last general court.’ Then Endicot said, ‘You will own yourself a Quaker, will you not?’ To which Mary Dyar said, ‘I own myself to be reproachfully called so.’ Then the jailer, (who would also say something,) said, ‘She is a vagabond.’ And Endicot said, the sentence was past upon her the last general court, and now likewise: ‘You must return to the prison, and there remain till to-morrow at nine o’clock; then from thence you must go to the gallows, and there be hanged till you are dead.’ To which Mary Dyar said, ‘This is no more than what thou saidst before.’ And Endicot returned, ‘But now it is to be executed; therefore prepare yourself to-morrow at nine o’clock.’ She then spoke thus: ‘I came in obedience to the will of God the last general court, desiring you to repeal your unrighteous laws of banishment on pain of death; and that same is my work now, and earnest request; although I told you, that if you refused to repeal them, the Lord would send others of his servants to witness against them.’ Hereupon Endicot asked her, whether she was a prophetess? And she answered, ‘she spoke the words that the Lord spoke in her; and now the thing was come to pass.’ And beginning to speak of her call, Endicot cried, ‘Away with her; away with her.’ So she was brought to the prison house where she was before, and kept close shut up until the next day.