One would think my troubles for that year had been ended; but in January
1662, one Everard, a Justice of Peace in Westminster, ere I was
stirring, sent a Serjeant and thirty four musqueteers for me to
White-Hall: he had twice that night seized about sixty persons, supposed
fanaticks, very despicable persons, many whereof were aged, some were
water-bearers, and had been Parliament-soldiers; others, of ordinary
callings: all these were guarded unto White-Hall, into a large room,
until day-light, and then committed to the Gate-House; I was had into
the guard-room, which I thought to be hell; some therein were sleeping,
others swearing, others smoaking tobacco. In the chimney of the room I
believe there was two bushels of broken tobacco-pipes, almost half one
load of ashes. Everard, about nine in the morning, comes, writes my
mittimus for the Gate-House, then shews it me: I must be contented. I
desired no other courtesy, but that I might be privately carried unto
the Gate-House by two soldiers; that was denied. Among the miserable
crew of people, with a whole company of soldiers, I marched to prison,
and there for three hours was in the open air upon the ground, where the
common house of office came down.
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