claimes And registers the wrongs of humble spirits Hills melt like wax in presence of the Lord So do all sinners in his sight abhorr'd He in the waters laies his chamber beames And cloudes of darkenesse compasse him about Consuming fire shall goe before in streames And burne vp all his en'mies round about Yet on these Iudgementsw orldlings never dreames Nor of these daungers never stand in doubt While he shall rest within his holy Hill That lives and dies according to his Will But woe to them that double-hearted bee Who with their tongues the righteous Soules doe slay Bending their bowes to shoot at all they see With vpright hearts their Maker to obay And secretly doe let their arrowes flee To wound true hearted people any way The Lord wil roote them out that speake prowd things Deceitfull tongues are but false Slanders wings Froward are the vngodly from their berth No sooner borne but they doe goe astray The Lord will roote them out from off the earth And give them to their en'mies for a pray As venemous as Serpents is their breath With poysned lies to hurt in what they may The Innocent who as a Dove shall flie Vnto the Lord that he his cause may trie The righteous Lord doth righteousnesse allow His countenance will behold the thing that 's just Vnto the Meane he makes the Mightie bow And raiseth vp the Poore out of the dust Yet makes no count to vs nor when nor how But powres his grace on all that puts their trust In him that never will their hopes betray Nor lets them perish that for mercie pray He shall within his Tabernacle dwell Whose life is vncorrupt before the Lord Who no vntrueths of Innocents doth tell Nor wrongs his neighbour nor in deed nor word Nor in his pride with malice seems to swell Nor whets his tongue more sharper than a sword To wound the reputation of the Iust Nor seekes to lay their glorie in the Dust That great Iehova King of heav'n and earth Will raine downe fire and brimstone from above Vpon the wicked monsters in their berth That storme and rage at those whom he doth love Snares stormes and tempests he will raine and dearth Because he will himselfe almightie prove And this shall be their portion they shall drinke That thinkes the Lord is blind when he doth winke To the Couâ—tesse of Cumberland ¶ Pardon good Madame though I have digrest From what I doc intend to write of thee To set his glorie forth whom thou lov'st best Whose wondrous works no mortall eie can see His speciall care on those whom he hath blest From wicked worldlings how he sets them free And how such people he doth overthrow In all their waies that they his powre may know The meditation of this Monarchs love Drawes thee from caring what this world can yield Of joyes and griefes both equall thou dost prove They have no force to force thee from the field Thy constant faith like to the Turtle Dove Continues combat and will never yield To base affliction or prowd pomps desire That sets the weakest mindes so much on fire Thou from the Court to the Countrie art retir'd Leaving the world before the world leaves thee That great Enchantresse of weake mindes admir'd Whose all-bewitching charmes so pleasing be To worldly wantons and too much desir'd Of those that care not for Eternitie But yeeld themselves as preys to Lust and Sinne Loosing their hopes of Heav'n Hell paines to winne But thou the wonder of our wanton age Leav'st all delights to serve a heav'nly King Who is more wise or who can be more sage Than she that doth Affection subject bring Not forcing for the world or Satans rage But shrowding vnder the Almighties wing Spending her yeares moneths daies minutes howres In doing service to the heav'nly powres Thou faire example live without compare With Honours triumphs seated in thy breast Pale Envy never can thy name empaire When in thy heart thou harbour'st such a guest Malice must live for ever in dispaire There 's no revenge where Virtue still doth rest All hearts must needs do homage vnto thee In whom all eies such rare perfection see That outward Beautie which the world commends An Invective against outward beuty vnaccompanied with virtue Is not the subject I will write vpon Whose date expir'd that tyrant Time soone ends Those gawdie colours soone are spent and gone But those faire Virtues which on thee attends Are alwaies fresh they never are but one They make thy Beautie fairer to behold Than was that Queenes for whom prowd Troy was sold As for those matchlesse colours Red and White Or perfit features in a fading face Or due proportion pleasing to the sight All these doe draw but dangers and disgrace A mind enrich'd with Virtue shines more bright Addes everlasting Beauty gives true grace Frames an immortall Goddesse on the earth Who though she dies yet Fame gives her new berth That pride of Nature which adornes the faire Like blasing Comets to allure all eies Is but the thred that weaves their web of Care Who glories most where most their danger lies For greatest perills do attend the faire When men do seeke attempt plot and devise How they may overthrow the chastest Dame Whose Beautie is the White whereat they aime T was Beautie bred in Troy the ten yeares strife And carried Hellen from her lawfull Lord T was Beautie made chaste Lucrece loose her life For which prowd Tarquins fact was so abhorr'd Beautie the cause Antonius wrong'd his wife Which could not be decided but by sword Great Cleopatraes Beautie and defects Did worke Octaviaes wrongs and his neglects What fruit did yeeld that faire forbidden tree But blood dishonour infamie and shame Poore blinded Queene could'st thou no better see But entertaine disgrace in stead of fame Doe these designes with Maiestie agree To staine thy blood and blot thy royall name That heart that gave consent vnto this ill Did give consent that thou thy selfe should'st kill Of Rosaâ—und ¶ Faire Rosamund the wonder of her time Had bin much fairer had shee not bin faire Beautie betraid her thoughts aloft to clime To build strong castles in vncertaine aire Where th' infection of a wanton crime Did worke her fall first poyson then despaire With double death did kill her periur'd soule When heauenly Iustice did her sinne controule â—f Matilda ¶ Holy Matilda in a haplesse houre Was borne to sorow and to discontent Beauty the cause that turn'd her Sweet to Sowre While Chastity sought Folly to preuent Lustfull King Iohn refus'd did vse his powre By Fire and Sword to compasse his content But Friends disgrace nor Fathers banishment Nor Death it selfe could purchase her consent Here Beauty in the height of all perfection Crown'd this faire Creatures euerlasting fame Whose noble minde did scorne the base subiection Of Feares or Fauours to impaire her Name By heauenly grace she had such true direction To die with Honour not
such as none could them comport Such great Indurements who did euer know When to th' Almighty thou didst make resort And falling on thy face didst humbly pray If 't were his Will that Cup might passe away Saying Not my will but thy will Lord be done When as thou prayedst an Angel did appeare From Heauen to comfort thee Gods onely Sonne That thou thy Suffrings might'st the better beare Beeing in an agony thy glasse neere run Thou prayedst more earnestly in so great feare That pretious sweat came trickling to the ground Like drops of blood thy sences to confound Loe here his Will not thy Will Lord was done And thou content to vndergoe all paines Sweet Lambe of God his deare beloved Sonne By this great purchase what to thee remaines Of Heaven and Earth thou hast a Kingdom wonne Thy Glory beeing equall with thy Gaines In ratifying Gods promise on th' earth Made many hundred yeares before thy berth But now returning to thy sleeping Friends That could not watch one houre for love of thee Even those three Friends which on thy Grace depends Yet shut those Eies that should their Maker see What colour what excuse or what amends From thy Displeasure now can set them free Yet thy pure Pietie bids them Watch and Pray Lest in Temptation they be led away Although the Spirit was willing to obay Yet what great weakenesse in the Flesh was found They slept in Ease whilst thou in Paine didst pray Loe they in Sleepe and thou in Sorow drown'd Yet Gods right Hand was vnto thee a stay When horror griefe and sorow did abound His Angel did appeare from Heaven to thee To yeeld thee comfort in Extremitie But what could comfort then thy troubled Minde When Heaven and Earth were both against thee bent And thou no hope no ease no rest could'st finde But must restore that Life which was but lent Was ever Creature in the World so kinde But he that from Eternitie was sent To satisfie for many Worlds of Sinne Whose matchiesse Torments did but then begin If one Mans sinne doth challenge Death and Hell With all the Torments that belong thereto If for one sinne such Plagues on David fell As grieved him and did his Seed vndoe If Salomon for that he did not well Falling from Grace did loose his Kingdome too Ten Tribes beeing taken from his wilfull Sonne And Sinne the Cause that they were all vndone What could thy Innocency now expect When all the Sinnes that ever were committed Were laid to thee whom no man could detect Yet farre thou wert of Man from beeing pittied The Iudge so iust could yeeld thee no respect Nor would one jot of penance be remitted But greater horror to thy Soule must rise Than Heart can thinke or any Wit devise Now drawes the houre of thy affliction neere And vgly Death presents himselfe before thee Thou now must leaue those Friends thou held'st so deere Yea those Disciples who did most adore thee Yet in thy countenance doth no Wrath appeare Although betrayd to those that did abhorre thee Thou did'st vouchsafe to visit them againe Who had no apprehension of thy paine Their eyes were heavie and their hearts asleepe Nor knew they well what answere then to make thee Yet thou as Watchman had'st a care to keepe Those few from sinne that shortly would forsake thee But now thou bidst them henceforth Rest and Sleepe Thy houre is come and they at hand to take thee The Sonne of God to Sinners made a pray Oh hatefull houre oh blest oh cursed day Loe here thy great Humility was found Beeing King of Heauen and Monarch of the Earth Yet well content to haue thy Glory drownd By beeing counted of so meane a berth Grace Loue and Mercy did so much abound Thou entertaindst the Crosse euen to the death And nam'dst thy selfe the sonne of Man to be To purge our pride by thy Humilitie But now thy friends whom thou didst call to goe Heauy Spectators of thy haplesse case See thy Betrayer whom too well they knowe One of the twelue now object of disgrace A trothlesse traytor and a mortall foe With fained kindnesse seekes thee to imbrace And giues a kisse whereby he may deceiue thee That in the hands of Sinners he might leaue thee Now muster forth with Swords with Staues with Bils High Priests and Scribes and Elders of the Land Seeking by force to haue their wicked Wils Which thou didst neuer purpose to withstand Now thou mak'st haste vnto the worst of Ils And who they seeke thou gently doest demand This didst thou Lord t' amaze these Fooles the more T' inquire of that thou knew'st so well before When loe these Monsters did not shame to tell His name they sought and found yet could not know Iesus of Nazareth at whose feet they fell When Heauenly Wisdome did descend so lowe To speak to them they knew they did not well Their great amazement made them backeward goe Nay though he said vnto them I am he They could not know him whom their eyes did see How blinde were they could not discerne the Light How dull if not to vnderstand the truth How weake if meekenesse overcame their might How stony hearted if not mov'd to ruth How void of Pitie and how full of Spight Gainst him that was the Lord of Light and Truth Here insolent Boldnesse checkt by Love and Grace Retires and falls before our Makers face For when he spake to this accursed crew And mildely made them know that it was he Presents himselfe that they might take a view And what they doubted they might cleerely see Nay more to re-assure that it was true He said I say vnto you I am hee If him they sought he 's willing to obay Onely desires the rest might goe their way Thus with a heart prepared to endure The greatest wrongs Impietie could devise He was content to stoope vnto their Lure Although his Greatnesse might doe otherwise Here Grace was seised on with hands impure And Virtue now must be supprest by Vice Pure Innocencie made a prey to Sinne Thus did his Torments and our Ioyes beginne Here faire Obedience shined in his breast And did suppresse all feare of future paine Love was his Leader vnto this vnrest Whil'st Righteousnesse doth carry vp his Traine Mercy made way to make vs highly blest When Patience beat downe Sorrow Feare and Paine Iustice sate looking with an angry brow On blessed misery appeering now More glorious than all the Conquerors That euer liu'd within this Earthly round More powrefull than all Kings or Gouernours That euer yet within this World were found More valiant than the greatest Souldiers That euer fought to haue their glory crown'd For which of them that euer yet tooke breath Sought t' indure the doome of Heauen and Earth But our sweet Sauiour whom these Iewes did name Yet could their learned Ignorance apprehend No light of grace to free themselues from blame Zeale Lawes Religion now they doe pretend Against
remote From worldly pleasures free from giuing cause Of least suspect to the most enuious eie That in faire Virtues Storehouse sought to prie Whose Faith did vndertake in Infancie All dang'rous trauells by deuouring Seas To flie to Christ from vaine Idolatry Not seeking there this worthlesse world to please By your most famous Mother so directed That noble Dutchesse who liu'd vnsubiected From Romes ridiculous prier and tyranny That mighty Monarchs kept in awfull feare Leauing here her lands her state dignitie Nay more vouchsaft disgnised weedes to weare When with Christ Iesus she did meane to goe From sweet delights to taste part of his woe Come you that euer since hath followed her In these sweet paths of faire Humilitie Contemning Pride pure Virtue to preferre Not yeelding to base Imbecillitie Nor to those weake inticements of the world That haue so many thousand Soules insnarld Receiue your Loue whom you haue sought so farre Which heere presents himselfe within your view Behold this bright and all directing Starre Light of your Soule that doth all grace renew And in his humble paths since you do tread Take this faire Bridegroome in your soules pure bed And since no former gaine hath made me write Nor my desertlesse seruice could haue wonne Onely your noble Virtues do incite My Pen they are the ground I write vpon Nor any future profit is expected Then how can these poore lines goe vnrespected ¶ The Authors Dreame to the Ladie Marie the Countesse Dowager of Pembrooke ME thought I pass'd through th' Edalyan Groues And askt the Graces if they could direct Me to a Lady whom Minerua chose To liue with her in height of all respect Yet looking backe into my thoughts againe The eie of Reason did behold her there Fast ti'd vnto them in a golden Chaine They stood but she was set in Honors chaire And nine faire Virgins sate vpon the ground With Harps and Vialls in their lilly hands Whose harmony had all my sences drown'd But that before mine eyes an object stands Whose Beauty shin'd like Titons cleerest raies She blew a brasen Trumpet which did sound Throgh al the world that worthy Ladies praise And by Eternall Fame I saw her crown'd Yet studying if I were awake or no God Morphy came and tooke me by the hand The God of Dreames And wil'd me not from Slumbers bowre to go Till I the summe of all did vnderstand When presently the Welkin that before Look'd bright and cleere me thought was ouercast And duskie clouds with boyst'rous winds great store Foretold of violent stormes which could not last And gazing vp into the troubled skie Me thought a Chariot did from thence descend Where one did sit repleat with Majestie Drawne by foure fierie Dragons which did bend Their course where this most noble Lady sate Whom all these virgins with due reuerence Did entertaine according to that state Which did belong vnto her Excellence When bright Bellona Goddesse of Warre and Wisdome so they did her call Whom these faire Nymphs so humbly did receiue Amanly mayd which was both faire and tall Her borrowed Charret by a spring did leaue With speare and shield and currat on her breast And on her head a helmet wondrous bright With myrtle bayes and oliue branches drest Wherein me thought I tooke no small delight To see how all the Graces sought grace here And in what meeke yet princely sort shee came How this most noble Lady did imbrace her And all humors vnto hers did frame Now faire Dictina by the breake of Day The Moone With all her Damsels round about her came Ranging the woods to hunt yet made a stay When harkning to the pleasing sound of Fame Her Iuory bowe and siluer shaftes shee gaue Vnto the fairest nymphe of all her traine And wondring who it was that in so graue Yet gallant fashion did her beauty staine Shee deckt her selfe with all the borrowed light That Phoebus would afford from his faire face And made her Virgins to appeare so bright That all the hils and vales receiued grace Then pressing where this beauteous troupe did stand They all receiued her most willingly And vnto her the Lady gaue her hand That shee should keepe with them continually Aurora rising from her rosie bedde The Morning First blusht then wept to see faire Phoebe grac'd And vnto Lady Maie these wordes shee sed Come let vs goe we will not be out-fac'd I will vnto Apolloes Waggoner A bidde him bring his Master presently That his bright beames may all her Beauty marre Gracing vs with the luster of his eie Come come sweet Maie and fill their laps with floures And I will giue a greater light than she So all these Ladied fauours shall be ours None shall be more esteem'd than we shall be Thus did Aurora dimme faire Phoebus light And was receiu'd in bright Cynthiaes place While Flora all with fragrant floures dight Pressed to shew the beauty of her face Though these me thought were verie pleasing sights Yet now these Worthies did agree to go Vnto a place full of all rare delights A place that yet Minerua did not know That sacred Spring where Artand Nature striu'd Which should remaine as Sou'raigne of the place Whose antient quarrell being new reuiu'd Added fresh Beauty gaue farre greater Grace To which as vmpiers now these Ladies go Iudging with pleasure their delightfull case Whose rauisht sences made them quickely know T' would be offensiue either to displace And therefore will'd they should for euer dwell In perfit vnity by this matchlesse Spring Since 't was impossible either should excell Or her faire fellow in subjection bring But here in equall sou'raigntie to liue Equall in state equall in dignitie That vnto others they might comfort giue Rejoycing all with their sweet vnitie And now me thought I long to heare her name Whom wise Minerua honoured so much Shee whom I saw was crownd by noble Fame Whom Enuy sought to sting yet could not tuch Me thought the meager elfe did secke bie waies To come vnto her but it would not be Her venime purifi'd by virtues raies Shee pin'd and staru'd like an Anotomie While beauteous Pallas with this Lady faire Attended by these Nymphs of noble fame Beheld those woods those groues those bowers rare By which Pergusa for so hight the name Of that faire spring his dwelling place ground And throgh those fields with sundry flowers clad Ofseu'rall colours to adorne the ground And please the sences eu'n of the most sad He trayld along the woods in wanton wise With sweet delight to entertaine them all Inuiting them to sit and to deuise On holy hymnes at last to mind they call Those rare sweet songs which Israels King did frame Vnto the Father of Eternitie The Psalms written newly by the Countesse Dowager of Penbrooke Before his holy wisedom tooke the name Of great Messias Lord of vnitie Those holy Sonnets they did all agree With this most louely Lady here
to commit this ill Oh that thou couldst vnto such grace aspire That thy polluted lips might neuer kill That Honour which right Iudgement euer graceth To purchase shame which all true worth defaceth Art thou a Iudge and asketh what to do With one in whom no fault there can be found The death of Christ wilt thou consent vnto Finding no cause no reason nor no ground Shall he be scourg'd and crucified too And must his miseries by thy meanes abound Yet not asham'd to aske what he hath done When thine owne conscience seeks this sinne to shunne Three times thou ask'st What euill hath he done And saist thou find'st in him no cause of death Yet wilt thou chasten Gods beloued Sonne Although to thee no word of ill he saith For Wrath must end what Malice hath begunne And thou must yield to stop his guiltlesse breath This rude tumultuous rowt doth presse so sore That thou condemnest him thou shouldst adore Yet Pilate this can yeeld thee no content To exercise thine owne authoritie But vnto Herod he must needes be sent To reconcile thy selfe by tyrannie Was this the greatest good in Iustice meant When thou perceiu'st no fault in him to be If thou must make thy peace by Virtues fall Much better 't were not to be friends at all Yet neither thy sterne browe nor his great place Can draw an answer from the Holy One His false accusers nor his great disgrace Nor Herods scoffes to him they are all one He neither cares nor feares his owne ill case Though being despis'd and mockt of euery one King Herods gladnesse giues him little ease Neither his anger seekes he to appease Yet this is strange that base Impietie Should yeeld those robes of honour which were due Pure white to shew his great Integritie His innocency that all the world might view Perfections height in lowest penury Such glorious pouerty as they neuer knew Purple and Scarlet well might him beseeme Whose pretious blood must all the world redeeme And that Imperiall Crowne of Thornes he wore Was much more pretious than the Diadem Of any King that euer liu'd before Or since his time their honour 's but a dreame To his eternall glory beeing so poore To make a purchasse of that heauenly Realme Where God with all his Angels liues in peace No griefes nor sorrowes but all joyes increase Those royall robes which they in scorne did giue To make him odious to the common sort Yeeld light of Grace to those whose soules shall liue Within the harbour of this heauenly port Much doe they joy and much more doe they grieue His death their life should make his foes such sport With sharpest thornes to pricke his blessed face Our joyfull sorrow and his greater grace Three feares at once possessed Pilates heart The first Christs innocencie which so plaine appeares The next That he which now must feele this sinart Is Gods deare Sonne for any thing he heares But that which proou'd the deepest wounding dart Is Peoples threat'nings which he so much feares That he to Caesar could not be a friend Vnlesse he sent sweet IESVS to his end Now Pilate thou art proou'da painted wall A golden Sepulcher with rotten bones From right to wrong from equitie to fall If none vpbraid thee yet the very stones Will rise against thee and in question call His blood his teares his sighes his bitter groanes All these will witnesse at the latter day When water cannot wash thy sinne away Canst thou be innocent that gainst all right Wilt yeeld to what thy conscience doth withstand Beeing a man of knowledge powre and might To let the wicked carrie such a hand Before thy face to blindfold Heau'ns bright light And thou to yeeld to what they did demand Washing thy hands thy conscience cannot cleare But to all worlds this staine must needs appeare For loe the Guiltie doth accuse the Iust And faultie Iudge condemnes the Innocent And wilfull Iewes to exercise their lust With whips and taunts against their Lord are bent He basely vs'd blasphemed scorn'd and curst Our heauenly King to death for vs they sent Reproches slanders spittings in his face Spight doing all her worst in his disgrace â—hrist going 〈◊〉 death ¶ And now this long expected houre drawes neere When blessed Saints with Angels doe condole His holy march soft pace and heauy cheere In humble sort to yeeld his glorious soule By his deserts the fowlest sinnes to cleare And in th' eternall booke of heauen to enroule A satisfaction till the generall doome Of all sinnes past and all that are to come They that had seene this pitifull Procession From Pilates Palace to Mount Caluarie Might thinke he answer'd for some great transgression Beeing in such odious sort condemn'd to die He plainely shewed that his owne profession Was virtue patience grace loue piety And how by suffering he could conquer more Than all the Kings that euer liu'd before First went the Crier with open mouth proclayming The heauy sentence of Iniquitie The Hangman next by his base office clayming His right in Hell where sinners neuer die Carrying the nayles the people still blaspheming Their maker vsing all impiety The Thieues attending him on either side ¶ The Serjeants watching while the women cri'd The teares of the daughters of Ierusalem Thrice happy women that obtaind such grace From him whose worth the world could not containe Immediately to turne about his face As not remembring his great griefe and paine To comfort you whose teares powr'd forth apace On Flora's bankes like shewers of Aprils raine Your cries inforced mercie grace and loue From him whom greatest Princes could not mooue To speake on word nor once to lift his eyes Vnto proud Pilate no nor Herod king By all the Questions that they could deuise Could make him answere to no manner of thing Yet these poore women by their pitious cries Did mooue their Lord their Louer and their King To take compassion turne about and speake To them whose hearts were ready now to breake Most blessed daughters of Ierusalem Who found such fauour in your Sauiors sight To turne his face when you did pitie him Your tearefull eyes beheld his eies more bright Your Faith and Loue vnto such grace did clime To haue reflection from this Heau'nly Light Your Eagles eyes did gaze against this Sunne Your hearts did thinke he dead the world were done When spightfull men with torments did oppresse Th' afflicted body of this innocent Doue Poore women seeing how much they did transgresse By teares by sighes by cries intreat nay proue What may be done among the thickest presse They labour still these tyrants hearts to moue In pitie and compassion to forbeare Their whipping spurning tearing of his haire But all in vaine their malice hath no end Their hearts more hard than slint or marble stone Now to his griefe his greatnesse they attend When he God knowes had rather be alone They are his guard yet seeke all meanes to offend Well