_Twisden_: 'He has been lawfully convicted.' _Elizabeth_: 'It is false,
for when they said "Do you confess the indictment?" he answered, "At the
meetings where he preached, they had God's presence among them."'
_Twisden_: 'Will your husband leave preaching? if he will do so, then
send for him.' _Elizabeth_: 'My Lord, he dares not leave off preaching
as long as he can speak. But, good my Lords, consider that we have four
small children, one of them blind, and that they have nothing to live
upon while their father is in prison, but the charity of Christian
people.' _Sir Matthew Hale_: 'Alas! poor woman.' _Twisden_: 'Poverty is
your cloak, for I hear your husband is better maintained by running up
and down a-preaching than by following his calling?' _Sir Matthew Hale_:
'What is his calling?' _Elizabeth_: 'A tinker, please you my Lord; and
because he is a tinker, and a poor man, therefore he is despised and
cannot have justice.' _Sir Matthew Hale_: 'I am truly sorry we can do
you no good. Sitting here we can only act as the law gives us warrant;
and we have no power to reverse the sentence, although it may be
erroneous. What your husband said was taken for a confession, and he
stands convicted. There is, therefore, no course for you but to apply to
the King for a pardon, or to sue out a writ of error; and, the
indictment, or subsequent proceedings, being shown to be contrary to
law, the sentence shall be reversed, and your husband shall be set at
liberty. I am truly sorry for your pitiable case. I wish I could serve
you, but I fear I can do you no good.'"

Little do we know what is for our permanent good. Had Bunyan then been
discharged and allowed to enjoy liberty, he no doubt would have returned
to his trade, filling up his intervals of leisure with field-preaching;
his name would not have survived his own generation, and he could have
done little for the religious improvement of mankind. The prison doors
were shut upon him for twelve years. Being cut off from the external