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In this horror left they him on the wheele as in hel: where yet liuing, hee might behold his flesh legacied amongst the foules of the aire. Unsearchable is the booke of our destenies. One murder begetteth another: was neuer yet bloud-shed barrain from the beginning of the world to this day. Mortifiedly abiected and danted was I with this truculent tragedie of Cutwolfe and Esdras.
Expect not of me a whining penitent slaue, that shal do nothing but crie and saie his praiers, and so be crusht in peeces. My bodie is little, but my minde is as great as a Giants: the soule which is in mee, is the verie soul of Iulius Cosar by reuersion. My name is Cutwolfe, neither better nor worse by occupation, than a poore cobler of Verona, coblers are men and kings are no more.
Who should it bee but one Cutwolfe, a wearish dwarfish writhen fac'd cobler, brother to Bartoll the Italian, that was confederate with Esdras of Granado, and at that time stole away my curtizan, when he rauisht Heraclide. It is not so naturall for me to epitomize his impietie, as to heare him in his owne person speake vppon the wheele where he was to suffer.
Referre all your oppressions afflictions and iniuries to the euen ballanced eye of the Almightie, hee it is, that when your patience sleepeth, will bee most exceeding mindfull of you. This is but a glose vpon the text: thus Cutwolfe begins his insulting oration. Men and people that haue made holy-daie to behold my pained flesh toile on the wheele.
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