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Memoirs of Lady Fanshawe, Wife of Sir Richard Fanshawe, bart., ambassador from Charles the Second to the courts of Portugal and Madrid. by Lady Anne Harrison Fanshawe
page 77 of 246 (31%)
Hearing lamentable shrieks of men, women, and children, I asked at a
window the cause; they told me they were all Irish, stripped and
wounded, and turned out of the town, and that Colonel Jeffries, with
some others, had possessed themselves of the town for Cromwell, Upon
this, I immediately wrote a letter to my husband, blessing God's
providence that he was not there with me, persuading him to patience
and hope that I should get safely out of the town, by God's
assistance, and desired him to shift for himself, for fear of a
surprise, with promise that I would secure his papers.

So soon as I had finished my letter, I sent it by a faithful servant,
who was let down the garden-wall of Red Abbey, and, sheltered by the
darkness of the might, he made his escape. I immediately packed up my
husband's cabinet, with all his writings, and near 1000 pounds in gold
and silver, and all other things both of clothes, linen, and household
stuff that were portable, of value; and then, about three o'clock in
the morning, by the light of a taper, and in that pain I was in, I
went into the market-place, with only a man and maid, and passing
through an unruly tumult with their swords in their hands, searched
for their chief commander Jeffries, who, whilst he was loyal, had
received many civilities from your father. I told him it was necessary
that upon that change I should remove, and I desired his pass that
would be obeyed, or else I must remain there: I hoped he would not
deny me that kindness. He instantly wrote me a pass, both for myself,
family, and goods, and said he would never forget the respect he owed
your father. With this I came through thousands of naked swords to Red
Abbey, and hired the next neighbour's cart, which carried all that I
could remove; and myself, sister, and little girl Nan, with three
maids and two men, set forth at five o'clock in November, having but
two horses amongst us all, which we rid on by turns. In this sad
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