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
friends what would he then haue done That beeing his foes no woes for vs doth shunne For lo he hangs in Torments most extreame Wrapt in the Intrals often thousand Euils While Christ thy foes thy noble name blaspheme And raue against thee like out-ragious Diuels From out their banefull Bulkes all spight they spue Till PAINE did Hydra-headed Paine subdue BVt now begin the angrie Heau'ns to scoule And Phebus hides from thee his golden Head Now Sathan toyles to tempt thy sacred Soule Now sinkes thy Body downe as it were dead Now quakes the Earth now rends the Temples Vaile And now thy Senses doe themselues assaile Now frownes thy Father with a dreadfull looke Now burnes his wrath which fire thy Soule doth feare Now gape the Graues of Saints which now awooke From out the sleepe of Death wherein they were Now roares the Thunder in the gloomy skie Now Sathan yelles because his foile's so nie Orion now doth muster misty Cloudes Wherewith the foggie Aire is dark'ned quight And now thy Fathers face from thee he shrouds That whilome woont on thee to shine so bright All which compell thy Manhood thus to crie Ely Ely Lammasabacthanie Now downe thy holy Head begins to sinke And now the Hand of Death doth close thine Eies Thy Tongue enflam'd with paine now thirsts for drinke Which beeing reueal'd that want Spight straight supplies Who giues thee ah to plague thy Taste withall In gall of bitternesse the bitter'st Gall But by the way here note my mournefull Muse The great ah tearmes I want aright t' expresse The monstrous malice of these cankred Iewes Who not content his Corps with Paines t' oppresse Doe nerethelesse his Senses seeke to spill And grieue because his Soule they cannot kill O Sonnes of Sinne can ye see Iustice-Sonne So like the Sonne of all Impietie Thus made a Chaos of Confusion With Angels so to range you orderly Yet liue disord'red then ah what remaines But lookt-for Worlds of all confused paines Say for his glorie he endures these Stormes Without respect of your peculiar gaine Alas what glorie can GOD haue of Wormes But such as he might lothe sith vile as vaine Then sith he for yours not his glory dies With shame for shame die ye for his likewise Sith He that 's Lord of Blisse and all Renowne Diues to the Ground of Shame and Sorrowes Seas To fetch vp Iemmes of Ioy for Glories Crowne To place but on Mans Head in Worlds of ease Then Man should to the Ground of deep'st annoy Diue for like Iemmes his Lord alike to ioy Had we but Selfe-Loue in the kindest kind This loue alone would force vs this to doe For this Selfe-Loue not like the other blind Seeing what Ioyes such Woes doe whaft vs to Makes vs for our owne future endlesse ease Loue to be ducking still in Sorrowes Seas Christs bitter and his latest draught thus drunke The Pangs of Death begin each limbe to Racke Now picks his Soule the Lifes Locke of his Truncke For now his deere Heart-strings begin to cracke Father quoth he to thee I giue my Soule For now is finish'd both my Life and doule And for the vp-shoot Longius with a Speare Doth pierce his side and cleeues his Heart in twaine From which as from an hallowed Fountaine cleere Both Blood and Water gusheth forth amaine Drinke now an Health my Soule for this is Wine Will all thy faculties with grace refine For this is Christ through whose sides soules to saue All Men are crucifi'd with whose last Breath All Men gaue vp the Ghost within whose Graue All buryed be by whose arise from Death All are reuiu'd for he as we beleeue Did liue to die that we might die to liue In Paradise from one selfe head did flow Foure Streames of Earth to bathe each droughtie limbe From Christ Faiths Paradise Blood floweth fo From whose Heart through his Hands and Feet doth swimme On floods of gore the Arke of grace where in Th'elect are sau'd from beeing wrackt through sinne And from his side beside came welling forth Both Blood and Water full of Misterie Blood to purge sinne and Water of like worth To note new birth in Christian Infancie From all whose Bodies parts to parts and whole Blood streamed forth to clense each Bodies Soule The Blood of Beasts effuz'd in sacrifice Were Typicall yet pleas'd the angrie High'st But that did this most pure Blood symbolize Those Shadowes were dispell'd by Iesus Christ True Iustice Sunne in whom no shadow is Either of Change or Sinne or ought amisse Here perpendicularly hangs the Line By which from out the Worlds Maze men do goe Vnto a World more ample more diuine Without which all goe wrong to rightest woe Then goe by this you that would not be lost For hereby you goe right how euer crost And if foule Sinnes glu'd fast to flesh and Blood So closely cling that they will not away Vnlesse vnloosed with a sanguine flood This working Deluge will not let them staie Noes flood confounded all saue eight alone But this saues all that it hath ouerflowne NOw hath the great CREATOR for Mans sake The second Adam cast into a sleepe Whiles of his Heart-blood Hee his Spouse doth make For whom His Heart doth Blood and Water weepe Which compound Teares are turn'd to Ioy intire For his Heart-blood effects his Hearts desire Which deere desire was one deere Spouse to haue To be co-partner of his Griefes and Ioyes Which when he wooke his God vnto him gaue To comfort him in comforts and annoies Which when n he saw He held most faire to see filesh of his Flesh Bone of his Bones to be Now hath the Monster Flesh-deuouring Death Got him within his Bowels but thoughdead Looke how a woman groaning languisheth In Child-birth till shee be deliuered So groaneth Death who trauelleth in paine Till of his charge he be discharg'd againe And as the * Babylonian Dragon brake So soone as Daniels Lumpes his Mouth had fill'd So Death that of Lifes Lord a Meale did make In sunder brake and vtterly was spild His Mawe could not digest that blessed Bit Made most immortall by his eating it Nor could he vomit vp this Bread of Life Which Poyson-like while it in him abides Had with his nature such vncessant strife That it brake forth the next way through his sides Sending celestiall Beames not to the skie But to the Throne of highest diuinitie Nor could He as some Beasts rechew their meat To cause the same the better to disgest Rechew this Bread so fast and so compleat Made by his chewing that it now must rest As free from Passion as from violence Garded with Powre and Glories excellence O! that all Spirits of high Intelligence By royall Armies would themselues immure In my blunt Braines that by their confluence I might expresse with Nectar'd Phrases pure The praise that to this Passion right pertaines Whose sacred vertue sacred Vertue staines The vertue of this Passion is of pow'r Reuenges Red
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
one silly Teare O Aire and Earth why doe ye not conspire To burne this Turfe that Water wants with Fire Aswell the Crosse the Hammer Nailes and Speare Did crucifie thy Iesus as the Iewes No no thy sinnes his Crucifiers were That by his death they might their life excuse O Synne how sinnefull art Thou sith thou must Excuse thy Crymes by crimes much more vniust I st not enough the Soule quite to subuert Wherein Thou liu'st but must thou spoile Him too Through whome the Soule doth liue by whom Thou Art And so do That that doth thy selfe vndoo Then blame not Faith thy foe to spoile thy State When thou thy selfe thy selfe dost dissipate Thinke Man whose Feete are swifter faâ—re then Thought To doe what ere is opposite to Good Thinke that thou seest him on his face longe straught In Praier and in Passion sweating Bloud Sith from al parts for Thee his bloud out flies Giue Him one Drop of Water from thine Eyes A Birde there is as Pliny doth report That in the time of treading sweateth bloud That Birde Ciconia height sweates so in sport But this kinde Pellican in maestiue moode So That in pleasure sweats begetting young But This in Paine with sanguine sweate among This kinde most kinde Soule-sauing Emperick His owne blood broacheth so our Soules to saue And for our Healths He maks his owne Heart sick Yea dyes that by his Death wee life might haue Then sith this blest by-parted Man-god dies For Mans loue Mans loue should be like likewise Thinke now thou seest O ioy-griefe-breeding sight Ioy for his merit griefe for his annoy Perditions child with Men Swords Staues and Light The Lord of Light to catch and so destroy Now thinke thou seest that Reprobate by birth With kisse betray the Lord of Heau'n and Earth Then see ah see how They Limbes of that Lord That Lords it in Deaths gloomie Continent His tender hands bind with a boist'rous cord So strait that straight with rigour violent It seemes to cut in two those tender hands For soft flesh yeelds when such rough force commands And canst Thou see O Thou thou carelesse Man Thou worme thou insect slaue to base Contempt Freedome thus bound for thee if so thou can And yet liue loosly th' art from grace exempt O that the God of grace as Man should die For man whose grace in loosenesse most doth lie Now thinke O thinke thou seest those hounds of hell That yelp out blasphemies about their pray With vngraue gate to runne doe him compell And with tumultuous noyse him lead away Ah see how He that staid the Sunnes swift course Through thicke and thin doth staâ—lesse run perforce Ierusalem O faire Ierusalem Figure of Heau'n built on celestiall soyle Yet wast beheau'nd through blessed Bethelem Shall yet her heau'ns blisse in thee suffer foyle O be thou not ingrate but dash to dust With thine owne downfall thine owne folke vniust Thinke now thou seest the sonnes of Babylon Infernall furies furiously present Meekenesse it selfe this harmelesse holy One To Annas high Priest low hels President Where he with armes and hands meeke lambe stands bound To heare what sense of hearing might confound Here Truth it selfe with Falshood fowle is charged To which for making mild and iust replies A cursed Fist on his blest face discharged A furious buffer that enflam'd his eies Ah see thy God how he doth reeling stand With blood-shot eine by force of hellish hand O damned hand fell engine of reproach How dar'st thou strike that awfull sacred face Before whose dread aspect the Heauens crouch Before whose Maiesties most glorious grace The Seraphins with reuerend feare doe quake And all th' infernal Legions trembling shake What franticke fit what rage did thee incense What fiend what desperat furie made thee dare To offer him that barb'rous violence That is of God the liuely Character Why didst not dread lest his high hand of powre Vpon thy pate would suddaine vengeance powre Saw'st thou not Iustice sitting in his Front As well as Mercie in his eies to sit Did both at once thy cruell eies afront And yet thy heart and hand not staid by it Did Deitie in his face make a stand Yet That not make thee Diuell hold thy hand Then is it cleere thy Hand is none of thine Much lesse thy Heart that did thy Hand direct But it is Hels and wrought Hels damn'd designe Or els that Grace that Face might well protect Nere durst the Diuell tempt him with such force Then though the Fiend be selfe ill thou art worse Canst thou O tell me tell me canst thou Man With th'eie of Thought behold this drierie sight With dried eies Those eies that whilome ran With blood for thee wilt not one drop require Why should the Sunne and Moone the Heau'ns bright eies Then looke on thee but as thine enemies Now thinke O thinke thou see'st O sauage sight His foes inhumane hale him thence in haste Along the streetes with clamour rage and spight To Caiphas house where he was so disgrac't As neuer Man much lesse a God could be Yet neuer God more good to man than he Bound as before he stands in whom we rest Afront the face of that pernitious Priest Who with the Scribes and Elders there are prest In their reproachfull slaunders to persist Meane while meeke Soule though he from guilt be cleare Yet stands he mute as though he guiltie were See the coniuring proud remorcelesse Priest Rend in fell rage too like a furious fiend The pompous vestures of this Pithonist When Christ doth vrg'd aright his cause defend Whereat the rest in depth of scorne and hate His diuine Truth with taunts doe deprauate And to expresse the rancor of their spight They blindfold him and make his face as t' were A Drumme to call his Foes against him to fight For still a tab'ring on his face they are So fast their fists doe fall as Drum-sticks while The Drumme doth sound Alarum to the broyle But that which doth all credit farre exceed But that all credit to this Truth is due They in his louely Face O loathsome deed Doe spitting spall or rather spalling spue O Heau'ns can ye endure to see your King More vilely vs'd than Toad or vilest thing O wonder farre surmounting wonderments O more than most profound humilitie Doe they fiends varnish with fowle excrements That Face whose grace the Heau'ns doth glorifie And he endure it what should we endure When he most pure for vs was made s'impure Men if they spit doe choose the fowlest place VVhere to bestow their eie-offending fleame Is no place fowler than his heau'nly face To cast that filth that reaketh hellish steame O dongue O dust O heire of rottennesse VVilt ere be proud seeing such humblenesse God silent is whiles Diu'ls doe spit on him The heau'ns are whist whiles hell reuiles their Lord The measure of abuse vp to the brimme These hellish furies fill in deed and word VVhat could Gods
short Daies T' were pitty then a Gods heart-blood should be Like worthlesse water spild for louing Thee But looke O Heart-diuiding dreyrie sight See see thy Iesus O flint-hearted Iewes King'd with a Crowne of Thornes O spightfull spight Of piercing Thornes that doe transpierce his Browes See how they mall it on in ruthlesse rage That Thornes doe seeme his Braine-pan bruiz'd to gage Daughters of Sion see King Salomon Crown'd by his Mother on his Mariage day Ye Sonnes of Salem see Gods glorious Sonne Enrob'd with Wounds and Blood all goarie-gay All gentle Iosephs weepe none can doe lesse To see your Brother brought to such distresse Is that Head crown'd with Thornes vpon whose Crowne Depends the highest Heau'ns resplendant Roofe By whose reuulsion It would soone fall downe Yet did a weake Post hold this Prop of Proofe Who brought this strong Alcidâ—s downe so lo T' was I his Deianire that seru'd him so Yet Heau'nly Hercules though plagu'd thou be Thy Hydra-labours will thee Deific We Pagan Ofsprings aye will honour Thee Not as a Semi but sole God and cry Holy Holy Holy Iesus Christ Lord God of Saboth our true Eucharist O thou all-powreful-kind Omniparent What holds thy hands that should defend thy head Is Sinne so strong or so Omniualent That by Her pow'r thy pow'r is vanquished Why Sinne is Nothing O! then Nothing ist That binds thy Hands that nothing can resist Thy Head all heau'nly wisdome doth containe That 's onely wise and stands it with the same To weare a Crowne that yeelds both Shame and Paine And so seeme proud of Dolor and Defame Art glories God and Pleasures Soueraigne Yet lett'st their Contraries ore thee to raigne Could not thy Head that compasse can what not Compasse Mans deere Redemption with lesse losse Thy wisdome neuer can be ouershot Then shot the same at such a Crowne and Crosse O strange ambition of Humilitie To couet Hell to giue Hell Heau'n thereby For what 's the World but Hell yea Hell at best Yet for the World He brookes these Hels of woes That so the World of Heau'n might be possest For with his Saints through Hell He thither goes First He is Crown'd then Crost both with annoy But they are * Crost then Crown'd and both with ioy But O my Soule to stirre in thee deuotion Vpon this ground of Griefe thine Eie still fixe See here the King of Heau'ns Earthly promotion Crown'd with sharp Thornes and made a Crucifixe Which bruzing broach His Browes lo for our sakes His Head is bruized that should bruize the Snakes To King Him right Hee 's Scepter'd with a Reed As if his Kingdome were but like a Kex Then crouch they with Haile King Then straight Areed Who smote thee Iesus Thus his Soule they vex O Bat-blind Fooles doe ye infatuate That Wisdome that makes Wisdome gouerne Fate To pitty wretched Wights orewhelm'd with dole An humane dutie t' is which Men should doe But to deride a poore distressed Soule A sauage part it is and damned too Yet such is their damn'd in humanitie That they make merry with his miserie O Thou that do'st the Heads condecorate Of Kings Terrestriall with Emperiall Crownes Why lett'st weake Wormes thy Head dedecorate With worthlesse Briers and flesh-transpiercing Thornes It 's to acquite the Pennance of our Pride By this Poll-deed with Blood exemplifi'd The Speare the Pen his pretious Blood the Inke Wherewith he Iesus to this Deed subscrib'd And Consummatum est the Seale did sinke To our Quietus est that were proscrib'd Then by that Iesus sign'd so with his Hand Seal'd with his Gore we cleare discharged stand Ah might it please thy dread Exuperance To write th'excript thereof in humble Hearts And giue them vs Then by Recgonizance Wee 'l aye be bound to praise Thee for our parts And if our indeuotion breake our Band Our little All shall rest at Thy command Our little All for all we haue's but little Nay lesse than nothing all we haue is Thine Wilt haue those Soules which thou in vs didst settle Retake them as thine owne for th' are diuine Wilt haue our Bodies which thou didst create Then take them to thee thou true Panaret Such forfeiture were too too fortunate For such vnhappie Bodies lucklesse Soules Then would we euer our Bonds violate Sith Freedome so their forfeiture enroules In Booke of Life in Heau'ns Exchequer rich Where we as free as freely would keep touch And thou my Soule should'st be the Antitype Of what thou art sith thou art Slaue to Sinne True Patterne of true Vertues Archetype Then should'st thou be and being rest therein Yet resting so that thou shouldst euer moue To Him that hath so deerely bought thy loue That though Confusion shall dispuluerate All that this Round Orbiculer doth beare Yet He that so doth supererogate Shall aye in order my Thanks Organs heare The Orbs of Heau'n shall stop and Time shall stay But they shall sound his Praise an endlesse day Faine would I fix my Thoughts with these sharp Thornes To these sore wounds that these sharp Thornes doe tent Such Sight a squemish stomacke ouerturnes But comforts mine with Matter subiacent My Thorny sinnes each Thornes deep Sepulture Doth in Charybdises of Blood deuoure For looke how Pikes in Battailes-front are pight To bide the shocke of Foes crost eu'ry way So through his Browes these Thornes are crossed quight To bide the shocke of sinnes which him affray These Thornes through pierc'd besides that is within Haue length enough to pierce the Head of Sinne. But now my Soule make thou a swift regresse Yet Rose-sweet is the ingresse to these Briers From whence through sense thereof thou did'st digresse And view with wonder what the Heau'n admires For God that is most iealous of his honour For Men most vile endures most base dishonour Iustice vniustly for Iniustice deemed And scourged crowned wounded prest to die A Worme no Man this God-man for Man seemed For formelesse is diuine Formositie Drie Root parcht Plant burnt Leafe and wither'd Flow'r Yet fruit It hath that hath reuiuing pow'r As when bright Phebus Landlord of the Light And his Fee-farmer Luna most are parted He sets no sooner but shee comes in sight So when our sinnes from God had vs auerted The Lord of Life no sooner set in Death But gaue vs Lunaticks Life 's light beneath He that the Earth within His Palme includes And Heau'ns Embrace-all measures with His Span A Rough-cast of thicke Gore his Body shrouds Then Blood exhausted Flesh is weake and wan For as Thornes did his Head conuulnerate So Rods all round did Him excoriate It 's pleasant to recount our Woe in Weale These Stripes had I deseru'd which He endures These deepe Incisions my Prides Swellings heale Then must I ioy in counting what It cures To tell the Ierkes with ioy that ioy do bring Is both a wealesull and a wofull thing These most Herodian-cruelties effected His People-pleasing Dooms-man Him presents To Furies fell with
touch Is now desil'd with Blood and festred Sores Both which thou seest that Body all begores Behold thy Sonne now nail'd vnto a Tree Whom to thy Breast of yore thy Loue did naile Behold his Head which oft was wound by Thee Now Thornes sharp set doe wonnd and sore assaile Those Limbes which thou hast milk-bath'd on thy Lap. Are now allore besmear'd with Bloody Rappe Ah! see those Eies in which thou woont'st to prie As if therein thou saw'st a World of grace Now see them sinking stand as Death stood by Whose gastly presence inserenes my face Woman behold thy Sonne plagu'd thus for this That Hee for Mans deere loue his IESVS is O! Heart-strings hold or rather Heart-strings breake What Heart can hold all this to see and heare Then can a Womans Heart by nature weake The heauie weight of Gods fell vengeance beare The plagues he felt Gods wrath for sinne inflicted For which shee 's fellow-feelingly afflicted O blessed virgin Marie holy Mould That bare the blessed fruit of lesse-flow'r Sith Grace gainst Nature made thy Heart to hold That must be full of Grace so full of Pow'r O let Eternitie thy Lauds enshrine Within all Mouthes or Humane or Diuine And well mai'st Thou be called full of Grace Sith that the God of Grace thy Wombe did fill And blessed art Thou for that blessed Case Among all Men and Women of good will For they must euer blesse Thee that beleeue Thou gau'st him Flesh by which their Spirits doe liue O Starre giuing light for light to Iacobs starre Shine Thou with light translucent in that Spheare His Spheare surrounds and mooueth without iarre In that immediate Orbe to His appeare A glorious Lampe to lend all Women light That walke or wander in this worlds darke Night Let neuer Mouth be found so full of Gall As to exaugurate thy blessed Name But be Thou blest with praise perpetuall And let both Heau'n and Earth sound out the same Sith Thou bar'st Him that on his Body bare The Pennance of our Sinne thy cause of care My Mother and thine owne quoth He againe O Iohn behold and take thou mine as thine Be thou Her sonne in all that doth pertaine To all those blessed Sonnes whose Sire is mine In loue in care in diligence and dutie Be thon Her Sonne sith this to Sonnes is sutie Comfort Her Heart Her woe-crosse-wounded Heart Shee is a Wo-man Man asswage Her Woe With Manly Comforts thou more cheerefull art Although thy Gall be full of grièfe I know Yet being strong thou better maist sustaine It And help Her Heart with Griefe split to containe It You that passe by this place behold me too And see if any paines be like to mine Read on my Head what I was borne vnto ACROWNE and yet my Crowne my Head doth pine Witnes the Holes the same makes in my Erowes And witnes That that from those Fountaines flowes See see ah see how I that made this All Am made farre worse than All A meere Offence Looke in my face if thou canst for thy Gall And seest onght there like me but patience For there thou seest bath'd in sanguine streames Where Paine and Patience sits in high'st extreames O you that passe by me see how I hang In torment such as no flesh ere did feele As if all paines in one were in each pang As if the Serpent more than stung my Heele The ease I haue is Worlds of all disease Sith Man shall fure the better farre for These Number my Bones for now they may be so Sith bare they be and tell how many must Make vp the true Anotomie of Wo For in me you shall find that figure iust Sith PAINE was neuer proud of her degree Vnull in Purple shee was crown'd in me You that doe passe by me see how my Palmes For you are rent and all their sinewes crackt O giue me then at least your Pitties Almes Sith for your Treasons ah I thus am Rackt Then sith this Racke from wracks doth set you free Can you doe lesse than loue the Racke for me My Paines not onely free you from annoy Yea such annoy as no thought can conceiue But make you owe withall all endlesse ioy Which for your loue in'pangs of Death I giue Then O deere Pilgrims pittie you my paine And loue O loue me lest I die in vaine You that doe passe by me my Feet behold That in the way of Sinners neuer stood How they my Body beare not as they should Yet as they should they beare It for your good Then wash my Feet with Marie with one Teare Sith all your sinnes they with my Body beare And see if you can any place espie About that Body free from Wounds or Bloes If not then pittie me for whom I die Pittie O pittie my vnpittied woes But if you cannot woe be to me then For I had nere felt woe but for you Men. The Fountaine of my Blood my Liuer 's drie In vaine my thirstie Veines doe sucke the same No burning Cole can be more hot than I For vehement paine doth all my parts inflame In eu'ry Nerue like wild fire it doth rage Without one drop of Mercie It to swage See see how Anguish makes my Soule to beat My panting sides for holding her in paine Who seeks poore Soule to shift her wearie Seat Which plagues her more the more shee toiles in vaine Sith thus in Loue for Man sh'endures this doule Then in loue pittie Man my painefull Soule And let it grieue thy Soule my Soule to grieue That thus doth languish for the loue of thee O let not thine with mine vnkindly striue But that but one Soule be twixe thee and me And let true Loue in Deed One both vs make That am thus more than broken for thy sake The time hath bin as knowes ETERNITIE I rid vpon the glorious Cherubins And in my Hand held all Felicitie That now am made a Packe-horse for thy Sinnes I was as God doth know high as the High'st Till I for thee tooke on me to be Christ. There was a Time I was what was I not That was not more than infinitly blest But now thy Curse is fall'n vnto my Lot And all to turne thy Curse vnto the best I giue my life for thine as thou do'st proue Nay Heau'n for Hell and all but for thy loue The Time hath bin when Angels compast me Still chaunting Hymnes in honour of my name But now am compast with a company Of wretched Wormes that gnaw mine Honours fame Which fame to me witnesse my woes is deere Then iudge what 't is such blasphemies to heare No Sense Pow'r Part in Body or in Soule Nor parts of those Parts but in all extreames Tormented are in part and in the whole And quite orewhelm'd with diuine-furies streames Sith then O Loue I am thus plagu'd for Thee Pittie O pittie Deare Loue pittie me Sith God hath lest me as I Heau'n haue left And PAINE hath put me where
to change to Mercies White This Passions vertue is so passing pure That Fowle to Faire it turnes and Darke to Light The Land-marke to true Rest when Troubles tosse In Sorrowes seas is Christ vpon the Crosse. Ye vnconfused orders Angellick In order come to take this Blood effuz'd Bring forth Celestiall Bowles with motion quick To which this pretious blood may be infuz'd Let not one drop be lost of such rare Blood That makes men passing bad exceeding good Couer this Aqua-uitae with your wings From touch of Infidels and Iewes prophane They haue no int'rest in this King of Kings Whose blood they suck'd which blood will be their bane Make much thereof sith but the least drop of it Is worth ten thousand Worlds for price and profit Yet let poore Spirited Conuerts drinke their fill And I will their drie Soules till with it they swell Such diuine surfetting is wholesome still For noysome Humors it doth quite expell Yea though with griefe they swell and breake with paine Such griefe brings ioy and makes them whole againe The Elephants of yore inur'd to warre Before the Fight some blood were vs'd to see Which them incenst the more to make them dare Then if a Beast shall not our better be Sith Christ wee see quite drown'd thus in his Blood We must endure the Racke as he the Rood Fiue Founts he opens whence doe gushing flow Red Seas to drowne our blacke Egyptian sinnes That they nomore may seeke our ouerthrow Then should we goe like Israels Denizins Though Wasts of Woes orethrowing eu'ry Let Till we into the Land of Promise get NOw to this Lifelesse yet Life-giuing Body Returne my Soule see see how like a Clod He hangs with gastly-grimme aspect all bloody Ah who would weene this Man should be a God And yet what Man can doubt it sith He died As Man for Men that this God crucified What cheere O holy Marie Gods deere Mother How fares thy Heart transpierc'd with Sorrowes sword Thy Sonne is slain yet sure there is none other That kils and straight reuiueth with a Word If He alone hath this almightie pow'r Doubt not but He himselfe Himselfe will cure What! doe I doubt that thou a doubt do'st make Of his reuiuall O! I wrong thee much Ifso I should for thy Faith cannot shake Sith it is stai'd by Gods vnshaken Touch Then that thou should'st be thus so woe-begon I see no cause saue Natures course alone Nature will yerne when monstrous minded Men Prodigiously doe violate Her Lawes But when they wracke her selfe what will shee then Will shee not mourne to grieue hath shee no cause Shee were vnlike her selfe and her selfe foe If toucht so neere she were not toucht with woe Then sacred Saint thou must haue leaue to mourne Thy losse is great although thy gaine be more Thy Heart must rend to see thy deere Heart torne It needs must bleed when It s so full of Gore If it be drie through bleedings great excesse Would Mine for Thine might bleed and neuer cease ANd sith twixt you is such proximitie That thou do'st throughly taste the smart he feeles I le turne my speech a while alone to thee To comfort thee with ioy which Faith reueales And though thou now triumph in endlesse ioy This might be sed to thee in thine annoy Thine Eies that see engulpht in seas of Tears Griefes Obiects greater than they are indeed Dissolue in Brine to season so thy Cares That Sorrow may thereon with pleasure feed When Sorrowes swellings burst out of the Eies The Heart doth hold to giue them fresh supplies Thine Eares beleeue all Sounds how sweet so ere Are but the Accents of a Tragicke voyce The Angels Notes doe seeme but parts to beare In the Confusion of an irkesome noyse For when the Body is without the Head What Musicke makes the Trunke but dull or dead The Ecchoes of thy Plaints doe seeme to thee The mournfull cries of Riuers Rockes and Hills As though their Maker them had made to be True feelers of his Paines thy Griefes their Ills For when as Natures God feeles violence Nature makes nought that hath not feeling sense Each glimpse of Ioy to thee is like the Spoiles Of some rich Kingdome to her conquer'd Prince Which are the markes of her recurelesse foiles And without warre his warring Thoughts conuince For others mirth doth then become our mone When they make merrie with our losse alone What ere delights the Eare then renouates The woefull want of thy Sonnes fu gred Words For Angels voice but recapitulates The misse of That which sweeter voice affoords And to be minded of the losse of Ioy Doth make vs find in old losse new annoy As Loue that highly prizeth pricelesse Things Trebles the price of those of highest rate So Reason and Iudgement Faithlesse almightie Wings Lifting thy Soule to see thy high estate Makes his Crosse thy Crosse-Crosse-let treble crost Because so well thou know'st what thou hast lost And all the Sweetes thy Senses apprehend Are but as Crummes of thy late royall cheere Which thy erst full-fed Soule doe but offend And make thy Looke more hunger-pin'd appeare The Pallat vs'd to ful-disht daintie Cates The homely crumms of course Crusts deadly hates Worlds-glorie is to thee a Lightnings flame Which doth but light to see calamitie For out it goes when it hath show'd the same And Hell doth leaue behind t' affront the Eie For Glorie in his Grace did so excell That Heāu'n with it compar'd is worse than Hel. For killing in his owne Life-giuing Death The sacred life of liues it doth ensue All liuings Things died with his yeelding breath So made Death victor and did Death subdue But by Death to subdue Lifes conquering Foe Is Life in Death though Flesh and Blood say no. No no sai'st Thou deere Saint as Flesh thou art Whose Blood doth boile in passion for thy losse For through his Death thy Life feeles mortall smart So his Crosse Tree of Life is thy Lifes Crosse For Grace and Nature beeing opposite Doth breed an endlesse bate twixt Flesh and Sp'rite When Faith doth Reason into Loue transmute Then Faith through Loue surmounteth Reasons reach And scornes with Flesh and Blood once to dispute But in the Metaphy sicks Reas'n doth teach Yet now thy Faith and Loue and Reas'n conspire To reaue thy rest in quest of thy desire Thy Loue by reason of thy miseries Engulphs thy Memorie in griefe so deepe That thou forgett'st thy fore-past promises Remembring but thy hearts ease still to weepe For when hearts-ease doth from the heart depart Nature enforceth Teares to ease the Heart But yet the inward presence of thy Sonne His outward absence deere Saint may supply Who from thy Wombe into thy Heart is gone That thou mai'st feele him much more vitally Then in thy Heart which Sorrowes Sword doth wound Hemakes his Tent to Tent and make it sound But if thou feel'st not yet this Lord of Life Stirre in that liueli'st feeling
part of Thee It is sith Passions there are yet in strife Sprung from his Passions which Perfections be But kept he not the peace in so great strife No force of Nature could maintaine thy life Thy Teares doe quenching feed the sacred fire That Natures Lead transmutes to Graces Gold Zeale blowes the coles of thy diuine desire To haue as earst thou had'st thy Sonne in hold But since thou hast him in thy better Part As sure thou hast him as thy Soule or Heart Yet for his sight thy thirst is so extreame The Ocean of which comfort swels so high That though into thy Parts the Whole should streame Yet could it not their sore Thirst satisfie For that which is belou'd without annoy The Senses seuerally would stillenioy Then hauing Him but in thy Heart thy Heart Hath so much Sorrow with that boundlesse blisse That Grace by Nature is perplext in part So the whole Heart thereby perplexed is For till Flesh puts on immortalitie It cannot shake off Natures Qualitie Yet wert thou by his mouth forbid to weep Whose Biddings and Forbiddings are such Lawes As all are bound religiously to keepe Sith to infringe them doth Perdition cause And sith the vnion twixt you Two is such Thy weeping for thy selfe himselfe doth touch Tooke He not Flesh of Thee then is the same Thine by the law of Nature which is His For Nature neerer vnion cannot frame Which makes thine Eies to fashion Teares amisse And sith true Loue doth make you most intire Then must thy Teares fall crosse to his desire But yet thou sai'st but for thy Selfe thou weep'st When thou weep'st for Him beeing one with Thee And so thou ween'st his holy Heast thou keep'st Who for thy selfe to weepe gaue libertie Nay rather gaue command which to transgress Must be most damnable or little lesse The fault therefore herein if any be Must be thou ween'st in beeing one with Him Which Sinne thou sai'st proceedes of Grace in Thee Both which in both thine Eies thou mak'st to swimme Out of Election so presumptuously Thou sinnest thus by Graces regencie For if the Sunne in Sable him inuolu'd When Lights inlight'ner quencht was in his Blood If Natures frame was like to be dissolu'd To see her Maker marr'd in likelihood Then O! who cannot weepe for such a losse His heart 's more hard than heart of oake the Crosse. Thine Heart and Eies for both alike doe moue Sith Heart and Lookes are one in Deed and Show Doe pay him Tribute of religious Loue Which He hath paid and thou to Him do'st owe For what He paid thou ow'st by double Band Which Grace and Nature sealeth with thy Hand This dew of Grace nere falls but straight the Sunne Of Iustice doth exhale It to his Spheare And if the fowlest face It ouer runne In Mercies Eies It makes It Christall cleare For Eies that so oreflowe are Wels of Grace Wherein God loues to looke to see his face For this imperiall Water thy poore Heart The Lymbecke is to Styll it through thine Eies From Hearb of Grace call'd Rue by Sorrowes Art And made by quenchlesse flames of Loue to rise Wherein the Angels loue themselues to plunge And ioy to draine these drops becomes the Spunge Vpon this Water-streames with winds of strife Thy Soule doth saile vnto the Port of Peace To raigne for euer in the Land of Life With him for whom these Surges neuer cease For sith these Waues doe whaft from Sinne to Grace From Grace to Glorie then they passe apace Thy Sunne is set and at his going downe These brackish Seas did rise to meete his fall That Tethis of thy true loue to thine owne In her moist Lap receiues this Light of all But sith thou know'st by Nature he must rise Let Grace with comfort cleere thy cloudy Eies No doubt thou would'st by force of that strong Tie Ensue his Steps though glutted with his Gore And could'st a Death with Hels of Torment die So thou might'st liue with Him that dies no more Then to be barr'd of what Loue doth desire Turnes Loue to Langor and her frost to fire How liuely were that Death whose deadest Meane The dead'st Cadauer with a Touch reuiues And makes immaculate Soules most vncleane Beeing Death of Deaths that giueth life of liues And honnied were the death of such a life Where Sinne and Grace arc still at mortall strife For thou yet liu'st as many Deathes to feele As thou liu'st howres and no lesse griefe to taste Then was thy welfare in his onely weale Which beeing extreame then extreame woe thou hast But cheere thee Saint sith nought so violent Can though it perfect were be permanent Liue out thy liuing Death then in such peace As to thy dying life may yeeld repose Let woes encrease past present ioyes encrease For they doe winne at length that long doe lose And when as Griefe 's enthron'd in greatest grace Then downe it must and Ioy possesse her place And though thy Soule liues more by force then choise Within thy dying Corps her liuing Tombe Yet beeing there interr'd shee may reioyce It did and doth both God and her enwombe Then O how blessed is that Earth of Thine That two such Sp'rites of life doth still enshrine That Sepulcher of Death and Seate of Life Thy blisfull-blislesse-blessed Body O I want fit words while Words are all at strife Thy Bodies ten-times blessed state to show For that stanch Chest those pretious Iewels keepes That keepe the Chest secure in Dolors Deeps Then melt not O melt not thy Heart away In flames of Loue but loue to loue him still For if thou heartlesse be where shall he staie And if thou kill'st thy heart thou his do'st kill For thine is His then for Him tender It With loue that is for lasting onely fit Thou think'st perhaps so well he loueth Thee That if thy Soule for that deere loue should die He would giue Thee his Soule thy Soule to be Sith Soulelesse now his Body yet doth lie But sith from Death to Life he will remoue He His must vse then keep Thine for his loue Thou canst not feare his losse that all reliues For ardent loue quite kils the Ague Feare He can reuiue himselfe that All reuiues And can make All as if they neuer were Then sith Faith holds he is omnipotent Hold thee by Faith almightily content Let those whose Faith begins but now to sprout Or senslesse things that feele the force he felt Themselues vnto their Makers fortune sute While their kind Bowels in compassion melt But be thou ioyfull as thou faithfull art Sith Faith sucks comfort out of holy smart The Place that held him earst thou held'st an Heau'n The Time thou him enioy'dst a merrie Maie Comforts diuine the duties to him giu'n The Aire wherin he breath'd eternall Day If these seem'd thus whiles yet he liu'd to die What are they now he liues immortally Then let not Feare doubt more than Faith confirme Sith doubts are Grounds
for Griefe to descant on And each mishap our hopes doe make infirme Though It we meete not with Suspition To force our friendship on a mortall foe Makes Folly triumph in our ouerthro But Loue that hath in Feares and Hopes no measure The more It longs her Obiect to possesse The more it doubts thereof the dire displeasure And beeing disseis'd thereof doth hope the lsse But O! this Loue is humane not diuine For Faith will not let Feare true loue decline Christ to thy longing-loue is as the Riuer Vnto the chased Hart which still he seekes And as Men thirstie mind but moysture euer So loue doth thinke on nought but what it likes If That Bee not It seekes no more to Bee But Beeing It would Be That bond or free Loue cannot liue without her Obiect long Sith shee then longing liues a dying life Who weenes her Right then to her offers wrong As doth the Husband that forsakes his Wife For in our deeds which Reason might reproue We scape vnshent if they were done in loue While loue doth lacke the oyle that makes it flame It is all Eare or Eie to heare or see Who can bewraie or where abides the same That there she may in loy or Sorrow be And listens vnto Newes with longing-heed In hope thereby to find her longingsmeed If It be good shee hopes it 's without peere If bad it be shee feares it 's worse than ill But be it good or bad shee it must heare Although the ioy or sorrow her may kill Desire doth neuer rest till that be had Which like to that Desire is good or bad Clothe him with Diamonds that quakes for cold Or cramme his purse with crownes that 's hunger-pin'd That for a freeze Gowne giue his Iewels would This all his Crownes for Crusts of coursest kin'd As each supplie supplies not each defect So nought contents Desire but his Elect. They that haue most are held most rich to be And they that haue their wish held most to haue Then as in Him is all that 's wisht of thee So Hee 's the Summe of all that thou canst craue It is the greatest gaine that can be made To get eternall good for goods that fade But rest these Thoughts which Thee of rest depriue In Paradise where he thou know'st do the est For there he said the Theefe should with him liue That day that he of life was dispossest Then when the life of Loue is dead to Griefe And liues to Ioy Ioy is dead Loues reliefe Hee for vs captiu'd our captiuitie And what is that but death the due of Sinne Which now he triumphs ore in victorie That we might still reioyce not grieue therein When Griefe is slaine it is a wrong to Ioy Our Powres in Sorrowes seruice to imploy Yet greater cause of griefe Griefe cannot giue But greater cause of ioy Ioy cannot yeeld Griefe Ioy resists and Ioy with Griefe doth striue Thus twixt these two still doubtfull is the field But Ioy at last as true Griefe doth presage Shall Victor be and no more Battell wage For this is He who though thus skarrified Tormented slaughtred and thus vilipended That is indeed the first Man deified Whom Men-of-God as-God to Men commended To Him the Prophets gaue this Testimonie That He should Liue as Man to die for Many His Skinne the Whips his Flesh Thornes made vnsound The Nailes his Nerues the cruell Speare his Heart Sharp Woes his Soule Gods wrath his Mind did wound So wounded was in all and eu'ry Part Thus his Soules-Soule was sacrifiz'd for Sinne That so our Soules might their lost glory winne His hand of Pow'r at first did figulate The Belsire of Mans most vnconstant kind And shall those Hands that Hand did figurate This Hand-almightie by their frailtie bind No no alas the Scepter 's in that Hand That doth both Heau'n and Hell of right command Hee like the glorious rare Arabian Bird Will soone result from his incinderment Which flaming Loue and Charitie had fir'd Of sole selfe-pow'r and owne arbitrement And though his Toyles be Silke-worme like his Tombe Yet shall his actiue Sp'rite his Flesh vntombe Diuinely then with Triumph Caesared He shall reblesse Thee with ten Thousand Blisses Whereby thy Soule shall aie be rauished With many millions of sweet Comforts kisses Whose Sweetes shall be so super-naturall That they perforce thy Cares shall cordial Then cheere thee sacred Virgin mourne no more The worst is past the best is now to come Thy blessed Wombe his blessed Body bore To die accurst for which He blest thy Wombe The Curse we caus'd for which He Death indures Then mourne no more but let the Griefe be Ours Fraile-Fleshes signiorizing Tyrant fell Vsurping Monarchie in her Effects Stearne Hydra-headed SINNE with Death and Hell He by his Death to free our Flesh subiects Then let Lifes Death that Lifes Death doth reliue Kill thy quicke woes and thy dead ioyes reuiue Serene thy Woe-adumbred Front sweet Saint Let Ioy transluce thy Beauties blandishment Thy Sonne feeles not for Death is Sence restraint Yet sees though dead thy liuing languishment Which well he wots though it of Loue proceed Auailes Him not nor mends His Killers Creed Thou know'st thy charge thy Master thee impos'd Sacred Euangelist His Soules deere Loue To thee her Sonne as to her Sonne dispos'd O then discharge thy charge for her behoue And like a Sonne yeeld her sad Heart reliefe With words that flow from fellow-feeling griefe Come come O Ioseph Nichodemus come Make haste post haste to take his Body downe He yet craues pitty though He yet be dumbe Yet by your ruth your loue may yet be showne Though feare of Men did make ye God forsake Yet God sith ye are Men will mercie take You did none other than his Minions did Whom of base Groomes his Grace did Minnionize Yet in his Troubles all their Heads they hid And left him for their Sinnes a Sacrifize Yet sith his Armes are spread them to embrace Ye may be sure Hee 'l take you too to grace Then sith in loue ye haue obtained leaue To take him downe that humbled so was raised Then downe retake him and withall beleeue He shall in Heau'n remounted aid be praised Vp with your Scala-Coeli to the Tree To take downe Heau'n for Heau'n of Heau'ns is Hee NOw Soule suppose thou see'st these worthy Men Laden with Linnen and with costly Gumbes Vnto the blessed-cursed Crosse to ren T'interre his Corps which DEATH now ouercomes Where beeing arriu'd the Ladders vp they reare To take Him downe with care surmounting Care See how the Infant Church whose feeble force Hath scarse the strength to lift vp Hand to Head Vnites her powers to take downe his Corse That is aliue and yet is perfect dead See with what fearefull care the Nailes they draw As if his Flesh yet felt or them He saw What prouidence they vse with Linnen large Crossing his dead Corps that to Death was Crost That so
they may the better wield that Charge And not by poize to let him fall be forc't See how the Body doubles in their Armes While Faith their loue with feruor double warmes For Martyrs Deaths giue life to Martyrs more Till DEATH be tir'd with reauing Them of Life This God did die as nere did Man before For Hee by yeelding meekely conquer'd Strife His Patience in such Passions and such Spightes Doth Life-inspire the faith of Proselites It is in vaine therefore with Sword or Fire To seeke to plant a Faith which cannot growe For Saints blood chokes It ere It can aspire And like a Deluge doth It ouerflow For when the Church is bath'd in Her owne blood Shee 's cur'd of all Diseases in that Flood Who will not runne into an Hell of Paine For His Hopes sake when he sees some therein For that same cause to seeme in blisse to raigne And by that Blisse eternall Glorie winne It 's sport to die when Life and Death conspire Feare to exclude and satiate the Desire WEll now those Women that were fled him fro When Tempests rag'd are come the Coast being cleare To pay him their last Dutie sith no mo They shall not as they doubt Him see nor heare Now eu'ry one is busied busily To grace Him Dead that for their grace did die Now downe they haue this dead Life-giuing Lord And now their zeale with diuine adoration Performes Loues complements in deed and word Now He hath suffred now they suffer Passion They spice Him sweetly with salt teares among And of sad Sighes they make their Obiit-Song O cruell hands quoth one that pierc'd these Hands But farre more cruell heart that gor'd this Heart Curst quoth another bee their feet that stand In Sinners Way who did these Feet endart O quoth a Third Paine still that Head suround That with these cruell Thornes this Head hath crown'd Infernall Furies whip them that haue torne This blessed Flesh thus whipt accursedly And be their Flesh with Wants to nothing worne That thus haue worne the Flesh of Deitie O worme of Conscience gnaw their Soules to nought That still did plague his Soule and vexe his Thought Let neuer Sunne recheere them with his Raies That Iustice Sonne haue thus in purple clowded Let nere Mouth ope but spit in their dispraise That haue these Lips in Death's pale Liu'ry shrouded Thus all like Honny-Bees sweet murmure make Against those Waspes that spoil'd their honny Cake Now draw they forth their Aromaticke Gumbes His Flesh most sweet to make most oderous See see how now His Traine late scatt'red comes Trooping with drooping Hearts most dolorous To helpe t'embalme Him and condole His death And to consort His Carcasse to the Earth See how in Peace they striue in Loue contend To kisse and rekisse his gore-crusted Face And with each kisse Teares Floods their force extend Which shall anticipate the others pace Loe how they hug Him with lowd-shaking cries Some hugge his Armes and others Legges and Thies But blest is He that hath his Head in hold Hee holds his hold till crowd enforce him thence Yet ere he parts his kisses millifold Bewray his loue and louing diligence And as the Babe is loath to leaue the Dugge Forepin'd with thirst so at his Lips they tugge Sweet Iesus giue me leaue in strong conceit Among these holy Ones to kisse thee once I as vnworthy will their leisure waite With vigilant attendance for the nonce Though they in loue are not my selfe aboue For who hath most forgiuen most doth loue If not thy Lips for I confesse deere Sweete I am vn worthy such preheminence Yet giue me leaue to kisse thy sacred Feet And wash them with my sad Teares confluence Let me with Marie who had much forgiu'n Yet I much more make Them my highest Heau'n For I aye me I am that Lumpe of Sinne That made thy Soule so heauie to the death I eu'ry day afresh thy woes begin Breathing out Death to thee with my Lifes breath Farre worse than he that blind thy Heart did gore For I doe see and yet doe wound it more O Christ with thy Rod strike my Rockie Heart That it may flow for Thee as Thine for me O let it bleed in pittie of thy smart And leaue to thinke on ought that grieueth Thee Bleed Heart weepe Eies that Blood and Water may Wash Blood and Water which I spilt away Sweet Honnied Sweet looke looke into my Heart See what Desires thy Loue doth pow'r therein Touching thy Loue I know thou hast the Arte To make the same in Deed thy Loue to winne Sith thy grace makes the Will and Deed intire O giue me grace to Doe as I Desire And as it 's written of the Elephant That he is fierce to see Grapes blood diffus'd So let me Wretch become most valiant Gainst Death and Hell to see thy Blood effus'd Who art the Grape which pressed on the Crosse Yeelds wine of Life and makes vs liue by losse When I behold thy still-fresh-bleeding Wounds I see the Deed to worke with the Desire Of my Redemption which my Soule confounds With shame though It the same doth life-inspire Whose good Deeds by Desire are onely done Though good Deeds end what good Desires begun When when deere Lord O when shall I fraile I Resist to Blood thy bloody foes resist When for thy sake shall I desire to die And in that deere Desire in Deed insist Till when I hold my deer'st Desires to be Vnworthy of thy Crosse much lesse of Thee Can I behold thy Gore rough-casted Corse Thine Head Heart Hands Backe Side Feet wounded all And all to free me from thy Fathers Curse And all I doe is but therein to fall I le trust Thy Secrecie Hearke in thine Eare I am the worst redeem'd with Blood so deere Then good Desires can nere repay the Debt Which thee I owe by Deeds seal'd with thy Blood My selfe thy Due I should too much forget To seeke to paie Thee with none other good For I am Thine Thou deerely paid'st for me Then both my Life and Death should honour Thee This World this Hellish World doth dimme mine Eies My Iudgements Eies that they but darkly see The way to worke by loue as worke the wise The godly wise whose workes tend all to Thee Then helpe me Loue to worke for Thee alone Meane while let me thy Passion thinke vpon Now doth this louing sacred Synaxie With diuine Orizons and deuout Teares Ensindon Him with choisest Draperie And to the Sepulcher his Body beares And as they beare him step by step they poure Downe showres of Teares which winds of Sighes procure But ah alasse his Mother all this while Like Niobe as Poets faine still sits All as shee did her Senses reconcile To senslesse Death and were in Tranced fits Without or Spâ—ite or Life or Heart or Soule Her violent woes her Senses so controule Now Loue to his last Home hath Him conuai'd That had no Hole in Life to