hide his Head This Hole in Death shall doe what Life denai'd Yet shall it not long hold Him beeing dead For Heau'ns his Home Earth's but the Babylon Vpon whose Riuers bankes He still did moane Here Loue contends with Custome Loue would keepe His Corps without Custome within the Graue But Tyrant Custome swaying Loue doth weepe That Her deere LOVE shee may no longer haue And for a Fare-well Volleys forth her Voice In Grones and Sighes and Lachrimable Noise NOw Hee 's interr'd that all the World intombes But in the Center of his Court diuine Yet least Point of that Center now enwombes This Lord whose greatnesse nothing can containe Gods Peace be with Him sith Hee 's God of Peace Till by his pow'r He makes his Death decease Vnheau'n your selues ye holy Cherubins And giue attendance on your Lord in Earth Couer his Corps with your Celestiall wings From all that naturally annoyes beneath Descend sweet Angels Legioniz'd in Rankes And make your Heau'n on his Sepulchers Bankes There warble forth your Hymnes of highest praise In highest honour of your highest Lord And Lullabie asleep his Watchers Eies With secret Soule-enchanting sweet concords Whiles with Eie-blinding Beames of Glory dight He faire amounts â—o frolicke his Saints sight But tell me O thou fairest Faire of Men Where do'st thou lodge at Noone-day where do'st sleep O tell my Soule and Shee will find Thee then And as her Soule Thee found will safely keep For Thou more cleere than Springs of Eseboâ— Hast made Her with thy more cleere Blood 〈◊〉 Thy Wintry-* Woes are past Spights storms are ceas'd Now flowres of Comfort burgen eu'ry where Then rise my Loue thou canst not be diseas'd Out of the * Rockes Holes rise to mee appeare And in the Holes of Thee her refuge Rocke My Soule from from deadly Sinne and Shame vp-locke Out of this Rocke as out of Paradise Runne through the Mosse of my most feeble Flesh Vnto my Soule all soil'd with Sinne and Vice Gihons of golden streames her to refresh So may it runne O still so may it runne Till it hath made her blacke as bright as sunne O Gates of Heau'n orientall glorious Gates O Wounds no Wounds but Hau'ns of Heau'n secure Neasts of cleane Doues and Forts from fellest Fates Blessed Balme-Boxes that all sores recure O let me liuing die and dying liue In these most holy Wounds that Life doe giue O let these Wounds these Woundes indeprauate Be holy Sanctuaries for my whole Man That though sinnes sores It oft coninquinate Yet there It may be made as white as Swanne O holy Wounds Wounds holier than all Holies Still let your Bloods be Floods t'ingulph my Folies When Woes doe wound me wind me in thy Wounds Sweet Iesus that for me with Woe wast wounded When Foes by Wounds my Bodies life confound Then let my Soule in thy Wounds be surrounded There let Her rest securely till shee may By thy high Grace resume in Blisse her Clay When carnall Lust my Flesh fraile Flesh inflames Then quench the same in thy Wounds bleeding still When Furie with strong hand my Mind vnframes Then in thy Wounds reforme It to thy Will In few by this most bloody Immolation Let my by parted selfe haue whole Saluation And thou O iust commander of this All To please whose Iustice Iustice Death endur'd Thou that I hat death mad'st most patheticall Inspire me with Loue Hope and Faith assur'd That while I breath this ayre my voice may be No light vaine Ayre but voyce aduancing Thee And deepely die each obiect of my Sense In tincture of thy Sonnes all sauing Blood By which Aspect my Mindes reminiscence May ruminate the vertue of that good That is our Summum bonum and the rate Of Sinne Gods wrath and iust though heauy hate O holy God! then looke O looke on me Through the through wounded Sides of thy deere Sonne O let my Scarlet Sinnes pure purple be In his deere Blood my Sinnes Purgation For eu'n as through redde Glasse Things red do seeme So through that Blood my Workes thou good wilt deeme The kingdome of the Flesh is swaid by Sinne In Christ that kingdome thou hast crucifi'd Then let me dwell that faultlesse Flesh within Sith Sinne subdues all humane Flesh beside Then there O there let me both liue and die Sith Life by Death there liues immortally The Diuell and the World two Worlds of Strife With whom my Flesh conspires my Soule assaile Who to destroy her selfe giues them a knife And so with them conspires her selfe to spoile Then if thou flesh her not with Christ shee dies For shee in my Flesh liues none otherwise But shall I make long Furrowes on his Backe Or stil make Him but soape my Sinnes to scowre Shall He supply the Pow'r my soule doth lacke Yet shall shee still be idle with his pow're O no Lord no that 's not the way to winne But th' onely way to liue and die in sinne Then helpe me Lord to help his helping might And giue me of thy goods to grace his Grace Let not my sloth but clogge your actiue Sp'rit Although it doe the Same in Loue embrace For sith in Action Vertue doth consist Helpe me to worke together with my Christ. Had I all Faith and Mountaines could remoue And though I gaue my Body to the Fire All this were nothing if I had not Loue Then liuely Faith meere Loue doth Life-inspire Sith then without Loue Faith doth nought but die Giue me that Faith that liues by Charitie Had I of Men or Cherubins the Tongues Knew I all Secrets or all Prophesie Fed I the poore with all to me belongs All these without Loue do but liuing die And sith on Loue depends the Royall Law O let my faith Lord worke in Loue and awe Christ is a Rocke of Refuge but to those That fight thy Battailes then needs must I fight Against both Thy and My still-fighting Foes And euer flie to Him in want of might Let me rest on this Rocke but yet so rest As by my sloath He may not be opprest I long sweet God to see thy vnseene Face Then put me in this Rocks most holy Rifts That I with Moses there may see thy Grace Sith It cannot be seene but through these Clifts But if I be vnmeet thy Face to ken Shew me thy back-parts kind Lord say Amen God forbid that I should glorie sauing in the Crosse of our Lord Iesus Christ by whom the World is crucified to me and I to the World IOHN DAVIES of Hereford SONETS 1. THe ofter sinne the more griefe shewes a Saint The ofter sinne the lesse griefe notes a Fiend But oft with griefe to sinne the soule doth taint And oft to sinne with ioy the soule doth rend To sinne on Hope is sinne most full of Feare To sinue of malice is the Diuels sinne One is that Christ may greater burden beare The other that his Death might still beginne To sinne of Frailtie is a sinne but
Hellish rage affected That ioy in His past Hellish Languishments Yet for He hop'd to point at Pitty than In Sorrowes Map He saith Behold the Man Behold the Man and not the God behold Yes Bifax God and Man behold in Him His Person both those Natures doth infold But Man thou see'st but God thine Eies doth dimme Thine Eie is Mortall and no mortall Eie Can brooke the splendor of Heau'ns Maiestie Yet had thine Eies bin equall though obscure Thou might'st haue cleerely seene this spotlesse Man A God in Word in Deed in Life in Pow'r But hee 's most blind that will not see and can The Earth did interpose it selfe betweene Thee and Gods sonne else God thou mightst haue seene But what prouok'd thee Pilate so to rue His case in case no more but Man He were Thou heard'st no doubt his Words and Works were true Wonders and Miracles which made thee feare And fearing rue his Case but Feare nor Ruth Can make thee False-heart to acquit this Truth The more is thy Soules torment by how much The more thy soule did eie his Truth and Pow'r If his Disgrace and griefs did make thee gruch Thy gruching soule thy greater Griefe procures If thou vnlike thy selfe thy selfe do'st thwart Thy dole dies not when thine owne Crosse thou art Can that cleare Element that quencheth fire Although it cleare thy Hands thy Conscience cleere Or quench a Soules iust with sinne raged ire No Hypocrite to wash th' art nere the nere But drops of grace and Teares well mixt with mone May pierce with falling the chiefe Corner Stone Nor can a Princes Lawes if most vnright Excuse the Iudge that iudgeth by those Lawes Nor Ignorance shall Guiltinesse acquite The Iudge must iudge his owne and Prince his Cause For if his Lawes would haue him iudge amisse He breakes Gods law to keep those Lawes in this Then Iudges though therefore ye be misiudg'd If Man without God make Herodian lawes Iudge not by them though ye by them be iudg'd Sith Meanes to ill Effects are like their Cause It 's better die for loue of Equitie Than that by vs an Innocent should die But ah alas alas it is too true Too many Iudges of this Iron Age With brazen faces will crosse Christ anew For Princes loue Rewards and Patronage These these are they that make the World so ill Who make the Lawes speake as their Sou'raignes will How many Lands grone vnderneath this Load Those Patrons of Oppression so abound Who make an Hell where-ere they make aboad And for Coyne crost the Crosse of Christ confound For hauing got the Law into their Hands Make Law for meede crosse Christ and Lawes commands All Ages had a grudge of this Disease But this Age lies quite speechlesse of the same For Iudgement oft is mute for want offees And fingers Things in signe of death with shame Christs Crosse him speed that thinkes to speed in Suits That hath but onely Liquids for these Mutes Many a wofull Mothers sighing Childe Goes to the Gybbet by their Iudge misdoom'd Because they had not Iudgements hands defil'd With that wherein shee seekes to be intoom'd O crime of crimes when Men must lose their breath Not for their faults but theirs that doome them death And many a Fathers true begotten Sonne Inuokes the Heau'ns for iudgement on their Iudge By whom both They and Theirs haue bin vndone Either for want of giuing or some grudge Who through their Iudges fault are lands bereft And oft by him hang'd afterwards for Thefâ— Then can no death nor torment be too sore For Iudges iudging for loue feare or meed Whose Skinnes were nail'd to Iudgement-seats of yore That Iudges Eies thereon might daiely feed For though the Prince be good if bad they be His Realme is rul'd as nought were worse than Hee NOw Soule returne with thy sole Soules returne It will not be they will not pittie him Againe He goes no torment serues their turne But Death with torment must part Life from Lymme Now Barrabas is free'd Christ iudg'd to die Onespils the other sheds blood diuersly That Man-destroyer is from Death preseru'd This Man-preseruer Death must straight destory Right 's made away and Wrong is still reseru'd In nought but in Christ crucifi'd they ioy So doe good Christians too but here 's the ods They are the Diu'ls Demeasne but Christians Gods The ruthlesse Crucifige now they crie Like hungrie Hounds that close pursue the Pray Whose blood to sucke their pliant Iudge they plie With ceaslesse clamours Him to make away And thus to vrge him to 't they crie at once His blood be on vs and our little oncs These Cries for blamelesse Blood diuerberate The high resounding Heau'ns conuexitie That bloods lowd Cries the skies doe penitrate With shrill Vindicta's irresistably If Men haue blood for blood by Iustice course Gods blood in Equitie hath much more force Mans blood is spilt for spilling blood of Man Because Mans spirit alone resembleth Gods But God's the thing it selfe by Iustice than Betweene both bloods is ods surmounting ods The Ransome of the World is rich Christ knoes Who spils it then deserues a world of woes The damned Doomes-man hath him iudg'd to death The Diu'll that Diu'll elinguate for his doome O wau'ring Weather-cocke what way ward breath Turn'd thee about from thy first holy-doome Doth thy damn'd double Tongue iudge him to die Whom selfe same Tongue before did iustifie Past is thy Iudgement on this Iudge of All His iudgement on thee is as yet to come Thy doome in thy owne Thoughts was partiall But He on thee shall giue a righteous doome Pilate farewell till then Christ bids th'adue When fiends shall plague thee as fiends plague him now NOw Eie of Sp'rite behold this Spectacle Christs Crosse him speed Crosse on his Backe He beares That Tree that Soule-refreshing Vmbracle Together with our Sinne His shoulders teares When Crosse and Sinne and Gods most heauie hate Depend on Flesh they Flesh doe lacerate Ah! see how th'All-supporting shoulders bow Vnder this Burden most importable And how his Legs do double as they goe As forc'd to beare much more than they are able Disabled through our frailtie lo how He Yeelds to th' oppression of this yeelding Tree Hee all whose life was nothing but a Crosse Of all Soule-vexing Crosses life to wracke Those by retaile he had but This in grosse Is laid on him so quite to breake his Backe Backe-broken loe He wends with these graue freights To cast this Crosse-like Anchor in Deaths Streights No step He treads but to those Streights they tend Crossed with Christs-Crosse or a Crosse per se Hee Mutes and Consonants did adde to th' end His Mother 's bitter teares the Liquids be The Iewes the Vowels are that spell his woe That life expels These make the Christ-crosse Row See how the sweat fals from his bloodlesse Browes Which doth illiquefact the clotted Gore His Burden paines him so with pinching Throwes That lab'ring
THE HOLY ROODE OR CHRISTS CROSSE Containing CHRIST Crucified described in Speaking picture By IOHN DAVIES And who in Passion sweetely sing the same Doe glorifie their owne in Jesus NAME Crux Christi clauis Coeli LONDON Printed for N Butter To the Right Honourable well accomplished Lady ALICE Countesse of Derby my good Lady and Mistresse And to her three right Noble Daughters by Birth Nature and Education the Lady Elizabeth Countesse of Huntington the Lady Francis Egerton and the Lady Anne Wife to the truely Noble Lord Gray Lord Chandois that now is be all Comfort when so euer CROST THough long yet loe at length What was design'd To you and yours great Lady now is come To your faire Hands to mooue your fairer Minde To minde His paine that is true pleasures Summe For Siren-pleasures that but Sense allure Must with the pleasures flowing from this paine Be clens'd else those will runne to Helles impure While these to Eden faire reflow againe The Crosse true Tree of life doth fairely grow In midd'st thereof of whose fruite if you taste The Nectar'd Iuyce will so your Soule oreflow That She will be ioy-drunke with that repast To Flesh and Blood this Tree but Wormewood seemes How ere the same may be of Suger-chest But* That which quickens Flesh the Crosse esteemes To be of Comforts better then the best Vpon the Crosse as on a Touch we may Trie our Soules value whether great or small If there it washt with Water-Strong doth stay We may be sure it's most Angelicall But with a touch if from this Touch the Crosse It fleetes as if the Crosse did Crosse i'ts kinde Then doth it shew that it is full of Drosse Till in Afflictions flames it be refinde But you with Salomon haue erst suruaid Nay prou'd the value of Earthes deerest Ioyes Then hardly can your Iudgement be betray'd Vnlesse sense will not see their felt annoyes Now as you are the Roote from whence doe spring True royall Branches beautifying their Stocke To this Tree beare them and faire Branches clinge To It as Iuy to th' immortall Oke For roiall Branches to the royalst Tree Doe cleaue by kind sith there they kindly thriue Then Ladies of this Tree embracers bee Which when ye die will make you more than liue When sensuall pleasure filled hath a Cuppe Of her sweete Liquor for you sith too blame Stirre it about before yee drinke it vp With some parte of this Tree to purge the same Els like sweete Poison it will bane the Soule But highly-lowly Ladies good as great Your great Minds Powers borne great can soone controule Vaine Pleasures siege and so their Spoiles defeate For Pleasures most ore'come the weakest Minds Vnfenc'd with Vertue lying ope to Vice Whose Iudgements eury flash of Pleasure blinds Borne but to Honours shame and Preiudice Then O firme Quadruple in Vnitie Of highly borne so kindly noble Hearts I wish all Pleasures flow from Caluery Most holy Mount into your inward'st parts And stil I 'le pray without Times smallest losse The Crosse may blesse you from your Comforts Crosse. Your Honors humble Seruant and deuoted Beadsman Iohn Dauies ⧠To the Authour THine Art and Subiect both such Worth containe That thou art best requited in thy paine EDVV. HERBRET Knight ¶ TO M. IOHN DAVIES my good friend SVch men as hold intelligence with Letters And in that nice and Narrow way of Verse As oft they lend so oft they must be Debters If with the Muses they will haue commerce Seldome at Stawles me this way men rehearse To mike Inferiours nor vnto my Betters He stales his Lines that so doeth them disperee I am so free I loue not Golden-fetters And many Lines fore Writers be but Setters To them which Cheate with Papers which doth pierse Our Credits when we shew our selues Abetters To those that wrong our knowledge we rehearse Often my good Iohn and I loue thy Letters Which lend me Credit as I lend my Verse Michael Drayton Ad Libri Lectorem WRite on and haue the Palme continue still In sacred style to treate of Powres diuine Inuoke no mortall Grace for Angels will From Heauen descend to grace this Tract of Thine Changing each blacke into a golden line Write on O blessed Subiect God and Men In Heauen and Earth approoues applaud thy paines Zeale seekes not Art yet see no barren Pen To common Trifles hath enlarg'd the reines Nor suckt the borrowed blood from stranger veines Hence All distrest may to their Soules apply True sauing Comfort for the Loue that could Enforce a God for wretched Man to die Curst crost and scornd tormented bought and sold And all for such to whom such Grace he would Cannot in Iustice but extend reliefe To such as mourne their sinnes and rue his griefe Thrice happy then be Thou stird vp to spend The Guifts he giues thee to so blest an end N. Deeble To all passionate Poets YE Poets that in Passion melt to Inke VVherewith Melpomen drawes her saddest Lines So melt that so my thirstie Pen may drinke Of you made Liquid for the sadd'st Designes For were all Spirits of Poets made intire And I therewith inspir'd and had I Pens Made of Times saddest Plumes yet full of Fire All were too cold for Passion for these Threns Here is a Ground for Art and Sorrowes Soules Diuinely holpe to prooue their Descant on This VVorld of Griefe so whoorles on Passions Poles That still it Varies though it still be One Then Braines if ere yee did your Owner steed My Heart hereon through my Pen make to bleed IOHN DAVIES of Hereford THE HOLY ROODE OR CHRISTES CROSSE SONET SInce all that All is altogether vaine Vncertaine mortall momentanie vile VVhich this Sin-Biac'd Bowle the Earth containes My Penn an Heau'nly Ditty shall compile Uouchsafe sweet Christ my Paper be thy Crosse My Pen that Naile that Nail'd thine holy Hand Mine Ynke thy Blood wherewith thou didst ingrosse Th' acquittance of my Uowes infringed Band The Subiect of my Songe let be thy Glory The Burden of the same thy Glories praise The Summe whereof thy Passions sacred Story Let these be all and some of all my Laies For heau'nly Quires by nature do reioyce VVhen Art in Graces Quire reares Natures Uoice WHile that blest Body Sauiour of each Soule Whose Bodies are the Temples of his Spright Hung on the Crosse by Death DEATH to controule The Temples Vaile Stones Graues Earth Skies and Light Rent claue op't quakt and thundring waxt obscure To see LIFE dye and Griefe theire God deuoure These lifelesse Bodies wanting Soules and Sence With sense of his Soules Soule-tormenting smart Condole prouok't by Pitties violence His paine though they of paine can feele no part They sencelesse are yet paines that sence exceed Make their obdurate sencelesse Hearts to bleede And wilt thou Man Gods Image Angells Lord Emperor of Earth and all hir Brest doth beare Made so in loue by him not him affoorde Seeing Him dye for thy Loue
hate inflict since hell began That was not heaped on this God and Man The wound was sore that crau'd a salue so sharpe The disease shamefull that fowle shame must cure Though Dauid healed Saul with sound of harp Our Dauids selfe must swoune ere health procure So many Sauls possest with Sathans store Must make the remedy exceeding sore O Pride the swelling Sore that nought can swage But such extreame deiection of the Highest O Sinne that do'st within the marrow rage Can nothing kill thee but the death of Christ O depth profound of Heau'ns iust doomes who may Tracke out th'Almightie in his pathlesse way He patient beares these contumelious wrongs So to supplant the kingdome of our pride He onely wise knowing what to all belongs Knew base we were vnlesse he should abide Basenesse it selfe to honour vs thereby And knewe we could not liue but he must die Thinke now how he that giues eternall rest Did restlesse passe away that hellish night VVhere Darkenesse children still did him molest VVith whatsoere his soule could most despight If any forc'd by sleepe began to nod Like Diuels they wake themselues by grieuing God There sits he blindfold that doth all things see Bats flying in his face that light doe loath Each one as irefull as an angrie Bee Doe sting his blessed Soule and Body both O restlesse hate that rest reiects wherefore Because the Lord of Rest should rest no more Ye heau'ns weepe out your world-enlight'ning eies Showre downe the Sunne and Moone in Teares of blood So in grosse darkenesse make a Deluge rise Of Gore to glut these furies with that flood For such a bloody worke of darkenesse done By fiends or furies nere saw Moone nor Sunne O hell that do'st all Cruelties surround Blush with bright Flames that blacke to burne are wont Vntill thy faces flush these fiends confound Sith thee in crneltie they farre surmount Light them with flames coufounding with their light To see the meed of their past hellish spight But O fraile Muse be not transported so VVith passion past the patience of thy Christ VVho praies for those that thus doe worke his woe Then O doe not his praier so resist But he is God but meerely Man can nere Endure such liellish rage to see or heare Kind Nature Night ordain'd for sweet repose To tired lymbes and wits through Daies turmoile But they the same quite opposite transpose And in tormenting Christ themselues they toyle How can it be but in eternall Night Iustice with restlesse plagues should them requite VVhat diff'rence is betweene those Hymnes diuine The Angels chaunt vnto his praise in heau'n And these discordant Notes of harsh Repine They are as Fame and Shame no lesse vneu'n For Sanctum Sanctum sing those sacred Quires But Crucifige Crucifige theirs O sweet celestiall Spirits Angelicall Are ye not maz'd with worlds of wonderment To see the Subiect of your Praises all To such shame subiect yet therewith content Your Tongues vnable are though most diuine Such Paine and Patience rightly to define What temper is that heart that is so hard That feeling this from bleeding yet forbeares VVhat substance are those eies that in regard Of this distresse dissolue not into Teares If Eies seeing this melt not and Hearts that feele They are not Hearts nor Eies but Flint or Steele But harke now Crowes and Curses interchange The Cocke and Peter striue to crowe and curse Who should exceed but Peter O most strange Giues Three for Two and yet he had the worse VVere not infernall Legions and thefe Fiends Ynough to vex thee Christ but must thy Friends Wert thou so hardie Peter in thy word What time in peace thou vowd'st with him to die And wert thou no lesse hardie with thy Sword In the first fight and from him now wilt flie That Man that ouercomes must weare the Crowne Thou art no Man a Wo-man put thee down Though All forsake Him thou wilt neuer faile Him These be thy vaunts and vaunting this did'st vow Yet thou with griefe do'st with his Foes assaile him And to a Maid more than a Maid do'st show Thy woman-weakenesse weaker than a woman For better is a woman farre than no man Saw'st thou that Man was God yea God and Man In all his workes and did He by his pow'r Strengthen thee Weakling for He all things can To march vpon the Seas foot-failing floore Saw'st thou by Reuelation He was Christ And yet for feare of his Crosse him deni'st Fear'st thou that Crosse that is the Tree of Life What! loath'st thou Death and yet do'st feare to liue Do'st strife eschew that is the end of strife Wilt thou not take because thou wilt not giue Is thy Soule rationall and yet thy Soule Doth Reasons reason brutishly controule Did He in loue O 't was a matchlesse fauor Take thee with him more firme to make thy faith To see God this God glorifie on Thabor And heard'st his voyce whom Heau'n and Earth obai'th Say 't was his Sonne more bright than Sunne thou saw'st Yet from God and his Sonne thy selfe withdraw'st Soule-wracking Rocke Faiths Rocke of ruine Peter Art thou for Christ his Church a fit foundation That in Faith from Faith sans Faith art a fleeter Tends thy faiths fleeting to Faiths confirmation If that stand fast that hath so false a Ground It most miraculous must needs be found Did'st thou desire with glorie rauished To Tabernacle Tabor there to dwell VVould'st thou in Heau'n with Christ be glorifi'd And not consociate him in his woes hell Art thou austere in life yet sensuall Thou Eschew'st the Gall and wilt but Honie chew Gods Councels are his owne therefore vnknownè All whose Intents no rules of Reason want Els that to thee he hath such fauour showne VVhat reason i st But God is God Igrant By whose Prerogatiue he may doe All And make thee and his firmer by thy fall Do'st thou esteeme it such a fowle reproach To know that Wisdom whence all Knowledge springs Think'st it no shame to set such shame abroach As cracks thy credit and the King of Kings Was Grace s'inglorious found that for thy grace Thoú gracelesly abiur'dst him to his face Could they acknowledge him that were his foes VVhen thou deniedst him that wert his friend By thy deniall they might well suppose That he was such as falsly they pretend Weepe Peter weepe for fowle is thine offence Wash it with Teares springing from Penitence T' was time to turne His Soule-conuerting Eies To thee peruerted Peter reas'nlesse Man Lest brutish feare which did thee Beast surprize Should make thee as thy selfe thy God to ban Can Mercies eies behold a fault so fowle With louing looke and not in anger scowle They louing lookt O constant Lord of Loue What is vile Man that Man thou valuest so Must his Redemption make thy heart to proue Though he false-hearted be such hels of woe Let Loue it selfe this Loue alone admire That loues for hate and dies through Loues
desire Those glitt'ring Sunnes his bright transpiercing eies On Peters eies as on two Fountaines shine By whose attractiue vertue Dropsarise Then downe distill in showres of Angels wine Who with heau'ns hoast therefore their tongues imploy To praise their God in hymnes starke drunke with ioy VVho cannot loue to thinke on loue so high That loues in Mercie Iustice Obiects hate Yea loues a Man that doth that loue defie VVho cannot die for such loue liues too late Let neuer Adams sonnes through Eaues offence To God and Nature vse such violence This hellish Night beeing ended then suppose This heau'nly Day-starreled to Plutos court Pilats I would say but respect of woes He there endur'd made true and false report Yet did this Comet cleare make Pilate pause Ere doom'd him as contagious by the lawes In the diuine sweet features of his face That might an heart of steele relent with ruth Pilate no doubt beheld a world of grace And well perceiu'd his Innocence and Truth Yet must he die doe Pilate what he can And for his Iudge that Monster is the Man To doome to death Rights wrongers is but right Although we wrongfully doe deeme them so That 's wronging Right as Men that haue no sight In that which righteous God alone doth kno But when the Conscience cries the doome is wrong The tongue pronounceth Hell confound that Tongue Dismist by Pilate see thy most iust Iudge From this Iudge most vniust led to a King Much more vniust loe how Hee 's forc'd to trudge Through thicke and thin harke how their clamors ring About his Eares and see the people flocke To see whereat to wonder gaze and mocke To Herod come that long had long'd to see him See now as if some Iuggler he had bin That would shew tricks to all men that would fee him How he prouokes Him some trick to begin But for He silent stands and thwarts his mind He holds Him but a Foole and foole vnkind Oye great Princes little doe ye know What wrong you doe vnto your high estate Tinsult through pompous pride on States below And thinke all Fooles not frolickt with like Fate Ye are no Gods and therefore know ye not Whom ye abuse and what may be your Lot This Foole wise foole holds Him full wise a foole And on the Mantle must that fooles doth fit He learn'd his wisdome in grosse Follies schoole But Wisdome on her Throne in Christ doth sit One seem'd not was the other was not seem'd Yet seem'd a God indeed though Man was deem'd He man was deem'd indeed that stird vp strife And crost the course the way ward world still runnes Life was accus'd with deadly sinne in life God was a Diuell deem'd by Sathans sonnes A Diuell deem'd or Man that had a Diuell But such a Man is worse or full as euill But Wrong that wrencheth eu'ry right awry And doth her selfe her selfe oft contradict That Supposition now doth flat denie And for a foole hee 's tane and nam'd and nickt Had he a Diuell bin or they as wise As Diuels be more smooth had bin their lies Here Wisdome that baptizeth with his Sp'rit All godly wise is baptiz'd for a foole Their angers glowing heat with this despight They thinke in red-hot raging hate to coole If his loue lik'd the foole that fooles detest For vs poore fooles he lik'd that he lou'd least Olet yea let weake Humane-wisdome vaile Her Peacoks plumes and make swift wing from Fame By this Example let her courage quaile And haue no heart to hurt her Honors shame If he whom Angels praise and Heau'ns adore Endure such shame let Earth seeke fame no more He was accus'd of what not so 't were euill Glutton Wine-bibber loath'd Samaritan Dam'd sinners coapesmate one that had a diuell Soule-slaying Schismaticke nor God nor Man But Hatreds Hydra bred in Stygian Poole And to conclude all clos'd all with the Foole. O had I Art to satisfie Desire That would with Words throwe downe Mans pride to hell That would past Heauen if it could aspire And makes the Bulke with ranke ambition swell I would vpon this Ground set such a Straine As should surmount the reach of Voyce or Braine Meekenesse looke on thy selfe and blush for shame To see thy selfe thy selfe surpassed so Humilitie low low stoop thy high fame Thou art surmounted farre farre God doth kno Thou boundlesse flood of Vertues confluence Thy bounds in him haue endlesse residence Looke Glorie on thy Lord thy God behold Inuested with Contempts derided coat Yet see what constant Grace his face doth hold O earth fraile earth thy Props strong patience note And neuer lift thy selfe thy selfe aboue To loue thy selfe vnlesse this Lord to loue See see how he in midst of all Extreames The proper Place where Vertue is confi'nd Though mad Misrule his name with shame blasphemes Yet his rare patience passeth humane kind Which well be wraies this Man is more than man That loues for hate and blâ—st when Spight did ban How mute was he among so many lies Lowd lies God wot braid out by his Accusers How still meeke Lambe among so many cries Offowle mouth'd hounds his hunters and abusers In few he show'd so many Guifts of Grace That men might cleerely see God in his face God in his face for mong the sonnes of men Was not a fairer or Forme more diuine The Paragon of Beauâ—ie was he then Which in his sacred shape did brightly shine For Beautie was constraind her selfe t' excell When shee him made faire without Parralell Yet could not so great grace Grace great as God Infus'd in all his parts protect this Man From the most roguish Whip and slauish Rod But he must brooke them both doe what he can And yet he did what none but God could doe Which he they sed did like a diuell too But what will not Spight say to worke her spight Against what Good soere that thwarts her will Shee 'l call the brightest Day the darkest Night And God a Diuell Good the cause of Ill For if her Conscience once be cauteriz'd Shee is a very Fiend and worse aduiz'd For Rage is mad and cares not what shee doth And Spight enraged cares lesse what shee saies Then what 's to be expected from them both But Words and Deeds that God and Man dispraise Though God raignes ouer All by Natures right Yet is He subiect to Mans hate and spight The Heauens Sou'raigne is thus subiect made To Hels damn'd vassals vilest villanie Yet Faith and Reason discreet Soules persuade That Hell is subiect to Heau'ns Deitie Then by this short account which yet is right Hell is not halfe so bad as Hate and Spight Yet though they befarre worse than what is worst They onely fill the Iewes hard hollow hearts From whose aboundance their tongues most accurst Doe speake and so are mou'd their other parts If Hate and Spight be curst Hearts onely mouers They must be Murders spightfull-hatefull louers These spights thus past