Where shall I begin my murderous tale? At the beginning? But that is now almost five centuries ago; when ‘Bloody Mary’ ruled the land of my birth, and caused many an innocent to burn, sending their Protestant souls upwards into everlasting life. This was a time when one man’s heresy was but only the faith of another. Yet within a few years under ‘Good Queen Bess’, these very same heretics condemned their Catholic persecutors to a similar fate; where English law then punished men by hanging, drawing, and quartering and women by burning. I will never understand religion when it is enacted under the guise of political expediency. I digress; and am becoming guilty of starting at the beginning, which is not where I should of all that I have to tell; and thus, expunge it from my wicked soul. I must begin at the end; backwards to the time, when I first realised who I really was. But even then, it was not clear to me that evil once resided in my soul.

“Merciful Father! Great Omnipotent! For Jesus' sake, Thy well-beloved Son, Hear the last cry of one in misery, Oh ! shorten—mitigate the pains I feel! Oh ! take me to thine everlasting arms, Sweet Jesus—my soul's repose. Mark this rude stone where Taylor dauntless stood, where zeal infuriate drank the Martyr's blood; Hadleigh! that day how many a tearful eye. Saw thy loved Pastor dragg'd a victim by; Still scattering gifts and blessings as he past, To the blind pair his farewell alms he cast; His clinging flock e'en here around him pray'd 'As thou hast aided us be God thine aid.' Nor taunts, nor bribe of mitred rank, nor stake, nor blows nor flames his heart of firmness shake. Serene -- his folded hands, his upward eyes, Like holy Stephen's, seek the opening skies; There fix'd in rapture, his prophetic sight Views Truth dawn clear on England's bigot night. Triumphant Saint! he bow'd and kissed the rod, and soar'd on Seraph wing to meet his God.”