MARIE MAGDALENS LAMENTATIONS FOR THE LOSSE OF HER MASTER IESVS Disce mori mundo vivere disce Deo LONDON Printed by Adam Islip for Edward White and are to be sold at his shop dwelling at the little North dore of Paules at the signe of the Gun 1601. Yea soule confounding sinne so far hath crept Repentant sighes are reckoned for toies And Maries teares contemned long have slept As jems unpriz'd which corrupt age destroies Save that her Lord because they still should last In surest caske hath them invessel'd fast For wretched soules let loose to libertie So wanton like are weaned to each wrong So licensed to worke impietie And free to fleshly wils have liv'd so long That those fresh springs whence penitent tears should flow Presumption hath so stopt that none will know And sencelesse hearts obdurat to all good Have so perverted their perfixed end That now O greefe their sighs and dearest bloud To feed fond fancie they doe vainely spend But for their sins one teare for to let fall They have alas nor eye nor heart at all Ah could they see what sinne from sence hath shut How sweet it were to summon deeds misdone To have their lives in equall ballance put To waigh each worke ere that the judge doe come Ah then their teares would trickle like the raine And their eye-flouds would helpe to fill the maine They would with Marie send forth bitter cries To get the ioies of their soule-saving love They would gush forth fresh fountaines from their eies To win his favour and his mercie prove Eyes hart and tongue should poure breath out send Teares sighs and plaints untill their love they find No idle houres ill spent in fond delight No teares distil'd for momentarie losses No sighs for missing absent lovers sight No care contriv'd of common worldly crosses Should then be us'd but all consum'd in this To beg amendment and bewaile their misse Yea all too little to an humble soule That inly sees her ill misgovern'd life Would it appeare to spend whole yeares in dole Yea many ages to declare her strife Would passe as minuts wishing time would stand While she with feare her endlesse faults had scand But farre from this lives sinners too secure Who giving bridle to their selfe-desires Cannot alas one scanted houre indure In sacred service but their mind aspires In following pleasures height whose froward will In doing good doth make them carelesse still Which seene with pitie on our gracelesse minds This blessed sinner whose so precious teares Once bath'd his feet that heaven and earth in binds And made a towell of her trayling haires To wipe the drops which for her sins were shed Now deignes to tell how our soules should be fed And Marie shewes to maids and matrones both How they should weepe and decke their rose-like cheekes With showers of greefe whereto hard hearts are loth And who it is her matchlesse mourning seekes And when we ought to send our reeking sighs To thicke the passage of the purest lights And Marie showes us when we ought to beat Our brasen breasts and let our robes be rent How prostrating to creepe unto the seat Of that sweet lambe whose bloud for us was spent And that we should give way unto our woes When the excesse no fault or errour showes If you will deigne with favour to peruse Maries memoriall of her sad lament Exciting Collin in his graver Muse To tell the manner of her hearts repent My gaine is great my guerdon granted is Let Maries plaints plead pardon for amisse Marie Magdalens first Lamentation At the Tombe of Iesus WHat climat will affourd a mournfull mate All wo-begon that vollies out hir grones Whose griefs do equallize my sad-grown state Whose heart poures forth a sea of helpelesse mones If to my care companion such there be I le helpe her mourne if she will mourne with me But sure no such associat there is My Muse may tell a greefe without compare A blacke rehearse of metamorphos'd blis And sad memoriall of untimely care Lugubre Carmen fitteth best my use In vvaining state best fits a wailing Muse. The deepest passion of true burning love That ever any love-sicke heart possest Drown'd in distresse I silly vvoman prove Whose ardent zeale is nurse of mine vnrest But even to death O haplesse death alone I ru'd his death vvhen other friends vvere gone I did behold my loves too cruell death With these sad eyes made red vvith brinish teares My soule did sorrow for his losse of breath By vvhose sweet life my life vvas free from feares Oh had I dy'd vvhen he dy'd on the crosse I needed no complaint to vvaile my losse But that too sweet a favour vvas deny'de I might not I consort my lover dying My course of life doth sorrow still betyde Which moves my soule to such a ceaselesse crying Oh haplesse soule so clog'd vvith care and greefe For losse of him that vvas thy comfort cheefe My Lord is dead to vvhom my soule did live He dy'd for me I vvretch am left alive Now to the dead I lasting praise must give Sith light is lost vvhich did my life revive And all in darkenesse I desire to dwell In deaths dread shade my saddest griefes to tell My Iesus Tombe my mansion is become My vvearie soule hath there made choise to inn Vpon his coarse my comfort shall consume And ioies shall end vvhere ioies did first begin Oh eies gush forth your fast distilling force Of Ocean tears upon his Tombe and corse Oh life-containing Tombe of my dead Lord From thee no chaunce shall hale me hence away I le linger here vvhile death doth life affourd And being dead my twining armes shall stay And cleave unto thee nor alive or dead Will I be drawne from where my Lord is laid Thou art the Altar of all mercie meeke The Temple of all truth the Grave of death The Sanctuarie vvhich lost soules doe seeke The Cradle of eternall living breath Oh sweetest heaven of my ecclipsed Sonne Receive this silly star vvhose light is done Oh Whale that my deare Ionas swallowed hast Come swallow me more meet to be thy prey T was I not he that should in right have past This bloodie tempest I vvas cause I say Vnequall doomer vvhat hast thou misdone To rob the earth of her coelestiall Sonne Oh Cesterne of my Iosâ—ph innocent Let thy drie bottome take me prisoner Sith I not he Oh vvretch most impudent Gave cause that so enrag'd my brethren vvere What pitch clouds darken our translucent vvay And on what shore doth Truths sweet preacher stay Aye me accurst vvhy did I not before Thinke upon this vvhich now I aske too late Why did I leave him vvhen I had him sure To rue his losse and mone my ruthlesse state Oh had I vvatched as I vvaile him novv None could have taken him vvithout me too But being too precise to keepe the Lavv The lawes sweet maker I have thereby lost And bearing
to his ceremonies too much awe I misse his sweetest selfe of far more cost Sith rather vvith the Truth I should have beene Than vvorking that vvhich but a Tipe vvas seene The Sabboth day so strickt solemnized The standing by his Coarse had not prophan'd By vvhich prophanest things are sanctified And that made pure vvhich earst vvas foulely stain'd Whose touch doth not defile the thing that 's clean But most defiled maketh faire againe But vvhen I should have staid I vvent away And vvhen it vvas too late I came againe In time of helpe Ah then my helpe did stay Now I repent my follie but in vaine My carelesse heed hath brought a heape of care And carefull I must ceaselesse teares prepare Ah let my heart into sad sighs dissolve Let eies consume their flouds in brinish teares Let soule cares captive in dislikes resolve To languish still sunke vvith despaire and feares Let all I have endure deserved paine That pennance due sins losses may regaine But ah my sweetest Iesu my deare heart Thou art not novv vvhere thou vvert but of late And yet alas I know not vvhere thou art Oh vvretched case oh lamentable state Such haplesse state unhappie I live in To better it I cannot yet begin Alas my ioy my hope my cheefe desire How hast thou left me vvavering thus in doubt In mazed moodinesse my thoughts to tire Wandering in vvoe and cannot find vvay out If I stay here I cannot find thee so To seeke elsewhere I know not vvhere to goe To leave the Tombe is for to gaine vnrest To stand still helpelesse is a curelesse paine So all my comfort in this plot doth rest Helpelesse to stay or going hope in vaine And to this choise poore soule I am left free Which is to say vvith vvhat death I vvill die And yet even this too happie a choice vvould be For me so vile so base unhappie vvretch For if to chuse my death it lay in me How soone should I that execution catch How vvilling vvould I be to stop lives breath If I might point the manner of my death I vvould be nailed to the selfesame crosse With those same nailes and in the selfesame place Where bloudie Iewes did butcher up my losse His speare should vvound my hart his thorns my face His vvhips my bodie I vvould tast all smart To tread his steps in an embrued hart But oh ambitious thoughts gaze not so hie Vpon so sweet divine felicitie Thinke not vvith such a glorious death to die Whose life is privie to such infamie Death I deserv'd not one but many a death But not so sweet a meane to stop my breath So sweet a death seasoned vvith such deepe ioy The instruments vvhereof dead corpes vvould raise And most impurest soules from sinne destroy And make it pure to yeeld thee pure due praise A scourge too much ah vvhere alas too small For my offences to be beat vvithall And therefore am I left more deaths to tast Than I live houres and far more vvoes to shun Than I have thoughts for my lost ioy to vvast Which are in number more then motes in Sun Vnhappie me vvhose vveake estate must beare The violence of such confused care But sith I cannot as he died die Nor yet can live vvhere he now liveth dead To end my dying life I here vvill lie Fast by his grave and leane my vvearie head Vpon his tombe on vvhose most sweet repose I le leave to live and death my eies shall close Better it is after his bodies losse His sacred bodie vvhich all creatures ioy'de To keepe his sepulchre from farther crosse Than loosing one to let both be destroy'de Though I have lost the Saint of clearest shine I vvill at least have care to keepe the shrine And to this shrine I le sacrifice my heart Though it be spoiled of the soveraigne host It shall the altar be and sacred part Where I my teares vvill offer vvith the most My teares destilled from my hearts deepe paine Which going out my sighs shall blow againe Here in this place oh happie place I le lead Yea lead and end my vvofull loathed life That at the least my cold grave may be made Neare to this tombe vvhere I have told my griefe Near this stone-couch my eies their light shall lose Which my Lord made the place of sweet repose It may be so this Sindon lying here Thus emptie left and serving to no use This tombe being open vvithout any there May pierce some piteous heart for to peruse My naked bones whose rights for to preferre This shroud may wrap this sweet tomb interre But oh too fortunat a lot to crave For her that is a vvretch so unfortunate No no I seeke not such a blisse to have Alas I dare not beg so good estate But yet if such a sinne may passe unblam'd I vvould forgive by vvhom it first vvas fram'd And if to vvish no more presumption vvere In me alive than to permit it dead If I knew him that first should passe me here My teares should vvoo to have my corpes so laid And vvith my praiers I that man vvould hire To blesse me vvith this blisse vvhich I desire And though I dare not vvish that anie do it Yet this vvithout offence to all I say This Sindon hath my love so ty'de unto it Above all clothes I love to it will pay And this same Tombe my heart more deare doth deeme Than anie Princes Hearse of most esteeme Yea and I thinke that coarse is favoured much That shall my Lord in this same Tombe succeed And for my part as my resolve is such Vpon this plot to meet Deaths fatall deed So doe I vvish that in the readiest grave My breathlesse bones the right of buriall have But this is all and I dare say no more My bodie I vvill leave to what befals And in this paradise all ioy vvill store For my poore soule vvhich flesh and bloud inthrals Which frō this brittle case shall passe even than Into the glorious Tombe of God and Man Marie Magdalens second Lamentation For the losse of the bodie which shee came to annoint BVt stay my Muse I feare my maisters love The only portion that my fortune left me Would languish in my breast and chillish prove Sith vvarmth to cherish it vvas quite bereft me His vvords his presence gone vvhich fed my flame And not the ashes left to rake the same My spice and ointments shall be then prepar'd To pay last tribute of externall dutie Though others have thereto devoutly car'd And brought the best in vvorth in vvorke in beautie Yet such desire my dutie doth inherit That I must yeeld my love my latest merit My love each quantitie too little deem'd Vnlesse that mine vvere added thereunto Best quantitie too meane and not esteem'd Except vvith mine it somewhat have to doe No diligence ynough for to apply Vnlesse my service be employed by Nor doe I thus sharpe censure others deeds
But 'cause love makes me covetous of doing Though Iosephs vvorke no reprehension needs Though to my wish his baulme he vvas bestowing Yet all he did cannot my love suffise But I must actor be to please mine eies Such is the force of true affecting love To be as eagre in effects t' appeare As it is zealous fervently to move Affections firme to vvhat it holdeth deare This love devout sets my poore heart on fire To shew some deed of my most deepe desire And to embaulme his breathlesse corps I came As once afore I did annoint his feet And to preserve the reliques of the same The only remnant that my blisse did meet To vveepe afresh for him in deapth of dole That lately vvept to him for mine owne soule But loe alas I find the grave vvide ope The bodie gone the emptie Sindon left The hollow Tombe I every where doe grope To be assur'd of vvhat I am sure bereft The labour of embaulming is prevented But cause of endlesse vveeping is augmented He vvanting is unto my obsequies That vvas not vvanting to my ceaselesse teares I find a cause to move my miseries To ease my vvoe no vvisht for ioy appeares Thus though I misse vvhom to annoint I meant Yet have I found a matter to lament I having settled all my sole desires On Christ my love vvho all my love possest In vvhose rare goodnesse my affection fires Whom to enioy I other ioies supprest Whose peerelesse vvorth unmatcht of all that live Being had all ioy and lost all sorrowes give The life of lives thus murthering in his death Doth leave behind him lasting to endure A generall death to each thing having breath And his decease our nature hath made pure Yet am poore I of ornament bereft And all the vvorld vvithout perfection left What marvell then if my hearts hot desire And vehement love to such a lovely Lord To see lifes vvracke vvith scalding sighs aspire And for his bodies losse such vvoe afford And feele like tast of sorrow in his misse As in his presence I enioied blisse And though my teares destil'd from moistned eies Are rather oile than vvater to my flame More apt to nourish sorrow in such vvise Than to deminish or abate the same Yet silly soule I plung'd in deapth of paine Doe yeeld my selfe a captive to complaine Most true it is that Peter came and Iohn With me unto the Tombe to trie report They came in hast and hastily were gone They having searcht dare make no more resort And vvhat gain'd I two vvitnesse of my losse Dismaiers of my hope cause of more crosse Love made them come but love was quickly quail'd With such a feare as cal'd them soone away I poore I hoping in despaire assail'd Without all feare persevering still to stay Because I thought no cause of feare vvas left Sith vvhom I feard was from my sight bereft For I poore soule have lost my maister deare To vvhom my thoughts devoutly vvere combin'd The totall of my love my cheefest cheare The height of hope in vvhom my glorie shin'd My finall feare and therefore him excepted No other hope nor love nor losse respected Worse feare behind vvas death vvhich I desired And feared not my soules life being gone Without vvhich I no other life required And in vvhich death had been delight alone And thus ah thus I live a dying life Yet neither death nor life can end my strife Yet now me thinkes t is better die than live For haply dying I my love may find Whom vvhile I live no hope at all can give And he not had to live I have no mind For nothing in my selfe but Christ I lov'd And nothing ioies my Iesus so remov'd If any thing alive to keepe me striv'd It is his image cause it should not die With me vvhose likenesse love in me contriv'd And treasured up in sweetest memorie From vvhich my love by no vvay can depart Vnlesse I rip the centre of my heart Which had been done but that I feard to burst The worthlesse Trunck which my dear Lord inclosed In vvhich the reliques of lost ioy vvas trust And all the remnant of my life imposed Else greefe had chang'd my hart to bleeding tears And fatall end had past from pittious ears Yet pittious I in so unperfit sort Doe seeme to draw my undesired breath That true I prove this often-heard report Love is more strong than life-destroying death For vvhat more could pale death in me have done Than in my life performed plaine is showne My vvits destraught and all my sence amaz'd My thoughts let loose and fled I know not vvhere Of understanding robd I stand agaz'd Not able to conceit vvhat I doe heare That in the end finding I did not know And seeing could not vvell discerne the show I am not vvhere I am but vvith my love And vvhere he is poore soule I cannot tell Yet from his sight nothing my heart can move I more in him than in my selfe doe dwell And missing vvhom I looke for vvith sad seeking Poor vvo-worn womaÌ„ at the Tomb stay weeping Marie Magdalens third Lamentation In finding the Angels and missing whom shee sought BVt hope-beguiling fortune now to châ—ere My long-sad spirits vvith a shade of ioy With Angels presents doth preseÌ„t me here GraÌ„ting a momeÌ„ts mirth to increase annoy For looking him though for him I find twaine To thinke on him redoubleth still my paine Yet for a time I vvill revive my soule With this good hope vvhich may my hopes exceed Comfort sweet comfort shall my cares controule Releefe may hatch vvhere greefe did lately breed I seeke for one and now have found out twaine A bodie dead yet two alive againe My vvofull vveeping all vvas for a Man And now my teares have Angels bright obtained I vvill suppresse my sigh-swolne sadnesse than And glad my heart vvith this good fortune gained These Heaven attendants to a parle envite me I le heare vvhat they vvill say it may delight me For I assure my selfe if that the corse By fraud or mallice had removed bin The linnen had not found so much remorse But had been caried too away vvith him Nor could the Angels looke so chearefully But of some happier chance to vvarrant me And for to free me from all feares even now They thus encounter these their speeches vvere And thus they spake Woman vvhy vveepest thou As if they bad me vveeping to forbeare For ill it fits a mortall eye should vveepe Where heavenly Angels such reioicing keepe Erewhile they said Thou camst vvith manly courage Arming thy feet through greatest thornes to run Thy bodie to endure all tyrants rage Thy soule no violent tortures for to shun And art thou now so much a vvoman made Thou canst not bid thine eies from teares be staide If that thou hadst a true Disciples name So many certaine proofes vvould thee persuade But incredulitie so blots the same Thou of that title art unvvorthie made And therefore vvoman