Epigram XXX. On a Murtherer

A Flying Murtherer lay beneath a wall
That was all ruinous, and like to fall:
An Angel to him did in's sleep appear,
Bad him be gone, and lodge some other where:
No sooner gone, but down the wall straight fell;
Then he thanks God, that he escap'd so well.
The Angel said, Dost think I like thy deed
Because from this destruction I thee freed?
Sins of this nature never scape my curse
Thou'rt saved from this death, to meet a worse.