the feast Where he that is the greatest may be least Greatnesse is no sure frame to build vpon No worldly treasure can assure that place God makes both euen the Cottage with the Throne All worldly honours there are counted base Those he holds deare and reckneth as his owne Whose virtuous deeds by his especially grace Haue gain'd his loue his kingdome and his crowne Whom in the booke of Life he hath set downe Titles of honour which the world bestowes To none but to the virtuous doth belong As beauteous bowres where true worth should repose And where his dwellings should be built most strong But when they are bestow'd vpon her foes Poore virtues friends indure the greatest wrong For they must fuffer all indignity Vntill in heau'n they better graced be What difference was there when the world began Was it not Virtue that distinguisht all All sprang but from one woman and one man Then how doth Gentry come to rise and fall Or who is he that very rightly can Distinguish of his birth or tell at all In what meane state his Ancestors haue bin Before some one of worth did honour win Whose successors although they beare his name Possessing not the riches of his â—inde How doe we know they spring out of the same True stocke of honour beeing not of that kiâ—d It is faire virtue gets immortall fame T is that doth all loue and duty bind If he that much enjoyes doth little good We may suppose he comes not of that blood Nor is he fit for honour or command If base affections ouer-rules his mind Or that selfe-will doth carry such a hand As worldly pleasures haue the powre to blind So as he cannot see nor vnderstand How to discharge that place to him affign'd Gods Stewards must for all the poore prouide If in Gods house they purpose to abide To you as to Gods Steward I doe write In whom the seeds of virtue haue bin sowne By your most worthy mother in whose right All her faire parts you challenge as your owne If you sweet Lady will appeare as bright As euer creature did that time hath knowne Then weare this Diadem I present to thee Which I haue fram'd for her Eternitie You are the Heire apparant of this Crowne Of goodnesse bountie grace loue pietie By birth it s yours then keepe it as your owne Defend it from all base indignitie The right your Mother hath to it is knowne Best vnto you who reapt such fruit thereby This Monument of her faire worth retaine In your pure mind and keepe it from al staine And as your Ancestors at first possest Their honours for their honourable deeds Let their faire virtues neuer be transgrest Bind vp the broken stop the wounds that bleeds Succour the poore comfort the comfortlesse Cherish faire plants suppresse vnwholsom weeds Although base pelfe do chance to come in place Yet let true worth receiue your greatest grace So shal you shew from whence you are descended And leaue to all posterities your fame So will your virtues alwaies be commended And euery one will reuerence your name So this poore worke of mine shal be defended From any scandall that the world can frame And you a glorious Actor will appeare Louely to all but vnto God most deare I know right well these are but needlesse lines To you that are so perfect in your part Whose birth and education both combines Nay more than both a pure and godly heart So well instructed to such faire designes By your deere Mother that there needs no art Your ripe discretion in your tender yeares By all your actions to the world appeares I doe but set a candle in the sunne And adde one drop of water to the sea Virtue and Beautie both together run When you were borne within your breast to stay Their quarrell ceast which long before begun They liue in peace and all doe them obey In you faire Madame are they richly plac'd Where all their worth by Eternity is grac'd You goddesse-like vnto the world appeare Inricht with more than fortune can bestowe Goodnesse and Grace which you doe hold more deere Than worldly wealth which melts away like snowe Your pleasure is the word of God to heare That his most holy precepts you may know Your greatest honour faire and virtuous deeds Which from the loue and feare of God proceeds Therefore to you good Madame I present His louely loue more worth than purest gold Who for your sake his pretious blood hath spent His death and passion here you may behold And view this Lambe that to the world was sent Whom your faire soule may in her armes infold Louing his loue that did endure such paine That you in heauen a worthy place might gaine For well you knowe this world is but a Stage Where all doe play their parts and must be gone Here 's no respect of persons youth nor age Death seizeth all he neuer spareth one None can preuent or stay that tyrants rage But Iesus Christ the Iust By him alone He was orecome He open set the dore To Eternall life ne're seene nor knowne before He is the stone the builders did refuse Which you sweet Lady are to build vpon He is the rocke that holy Church did chuse Among which number you must needs be one Faire Shepheardesse t is you that he will vse To feed his flocke that trust in him alone All wordly blessings he vouchsafes to you That to the poore you may returne his due And if deserts a Ladies loue may gaine Then tell me who hath more deseru'd than he Therefore in recompence of all his paine Bestowe your paines to reade and pardon me If out of wants or weakenesse of my braine I haue not done this worke sufficiently Yet lodge him in the closet of your heart Whose worth is more than can be shew'd by Art TO THE VERTVOVS Reader OFten haue I heard that it is the property of some women not only to emulate the virtues and perfections of the rest but also by all their powers of ill speaking to ecclipse the brightnes of their deserued fame now contrary to this custome which men I hope vniustly lay to their charge I haue written this small volume or little booke for the generall vse of all virtuous Ladies and Gentlewomen of this kingdome and in commendation of some particular persons of our owne sexe such as for the most part are so well knowne to my selfe and others that I dare vndertake Fame dares not to call any better And this haue I done to make knowne to the world that all women deserue not to be blamed though some forgetting they are women themselues and in danger to be condemned by the words of their owne mouthes fall into so great an errour as to speake vnaduisedly against the rest of their sexe which if it be true I am perswaded they can shew their owne imperfection in nothing more and therefore could wish for their owne ease modesties and
To doe that which so many better can Not that I Learning to my selfe assume Or that I would compare with any man But as they are Scholers and by Art do write So Nature yeelds my Soule a sad delight And since all Arts at first from Nature came That goodly Creature Mother of Perfection Whom Ioues almighty hand at first did frame Taking both her and hers in his protection Why should not She now grace my barren Muse And in a Woman all defects excuse So peerelesse Princesse humbly I desire That your great wisedome would vouchsafe t'omit All faults and pardon if my spirits retire Leauing to ayme at what they cannot hit To write your worth which no pen can expresse Were but t'ecclipse your Fame and make it lesse To the Lady ELIZABETHS Grace MOst gratious Ladie faire ELIZABETH Whose Name and Virtues puts vs still in mind Of her of whom we are depriu'd by death The Phoenix of her age whose worth did bind All worthy minds so long as they haue breath In linkes of Admiration loue and zeale To that deare Mother of our Common-weale Euen you faire Princesse next our famous Queene I doe inuite vnto this wholesome feast Whose goodly wisedome though your yeares be greene By such good workes may daily be increast Though your faire eyes farre better Bookes haue seene Yet being the first fruits of a womans wit Vouchsafe you fauour in accepting it To all vertuous Ladies in generall EAch blessed Lady that in Virtue spends Your pretious time to beautifie your soules Come wait on hir whom winged Fame attends And in hir hand the Booke where she inroules Those high deserts that Maiestie commends Let this faire Queene not vnattended bee When in my Glasse she daines her selfe to see Put on your wedding garments euery one The Bridegroome stayes to entertaine you all Let Virtue be your guide for she alone Can leade you right that you can neuer fall And make no stay for feare he should be gone But fill your Lamps with oyle of burning zeale That to your Faith he may his Truth reueale Let all your roabes be purple scarlet white The roabes that Christ wore before his death Those perfit colours purest Virtue wore Come deckt with Lillies that did so delight To be preferr'd in Beauty farre before Wise Salomon in all his glory dight Whose royall roabes did no such pleasure yield As did the beauteous Lilly of the field Adorne your temples with faire Daphnes crowne The neuer changing Laurel alwaies geene Let constant hope all worldly pleasures drowne â—n token of Constancie In wise Mineruaes paths be alwaies scene Or with bright Cynthia thogh faire Venus frown With Esop crosse the posts of euery doore Where Sinne would riot making Virtue poore And let the Muses your companions be Those sacred sisters that on Pallas wait Whose Virtues with the purest minds agree Whose godly labours doe auoyd the baite Of worldly pleasures liuing alwaies free From sword from violence and from ill report To these nine Worthies all faire mindes resort Annoynt your haire with Aarons pretious oyle And bring your palmes of vict'ry in your hands To ouercome all thoughts that would defile The earthly circuit of your soules faire lands Let no dimme shadowes your cleare eyes beguile Sweet odours mirrhe gum aloes frankincense Present that King who di'd for your offence Behold bright Titans shining chariot staies All deckt with flowers of the freshest hew Attended on by Age Houres Nights and Daies Which alters not your beauty but giues you Much more and crownes you with eternall praise This golden chariot wherein you must ride Let simple Doues and subtill serpents guide Come swifter than the motion of the Sunne To be transfigur'd with our louing Lord Lest Glory end what Grace in you begun Of heau'nly riches make your greatest hoord In Christ all honour wealth and beautie 's wonne By whose perfections you appeare more faire Than Phoebus if he seau'n times brighter were Gods holy Angels will direct your Doues And bring your Serpents to the fields of rest Where he doth stay that purchast all your loues In bloody torments when he di'd opprest There shall you find him in those pleasant groues Of sweet Elizium by the Well of Life Whose cristal springs do purge from worldly strife Thus may you flie from dull and sensuall earth Whereof at first your bodies formed were That new regen'rate in a second berth Your blessed soules may liue without all feare Beeing immortall subiect to no death But in the eie of heauen so highly placed That others by your virtues may be graced Where worthy Ladies I will leaue you all Desiring you to grace this little Booke Yet some of you me thinkes I heare to call Me by my name and bid me better looke Lest vnawares I in an error fall In generall tearmes to place you with the rest Whom Fame commends to be the very best T is true I must confesse O noble Fame There are a number honoured by thee Of which some few thou didst recite by name And willd my Muse they should remembred bee Wishing some would their glorious Trophies frame Which if I should presume to vndertake My tired Hand for very feare would quake Onely by name I will bid some of those That in true Honors seate haue long bin placed Yea euen such as thou 〈◊〉 chiefly chose By whom my Muse may be the better graced Therefore vnwilling longer time to lose I will inuite some Ladies that I know But chiefly those as thou hast graced so ⧠To the Ladie Arabella GReat learned Ladie whom I long haue knowne And yet not knowne so much as I desired Rare Phoenix whose faire feathers are your owne With which you flie and are so much admired True honour whom true Fame hath so attired In glittering raiment shining much more bright Than siluer Starres in the most frostie night Come like the morning Sunne new out of bed And cast your eyes vpon this little Booke Although you be so well accompan'ed With Pallas and the Muses spare one looke Vpon this humbled King who all forsooke That in his dying armes he might imbrace Your beauteous Soule and fill it with his grace ¶ To the Ladie Susan Countesse Dowager of Kent and daughter to the Duchesse of Suffolke COme you that were the Mistris of my youth The noble guide of my vngouern'd dayes Come you that haue delighted in Gods truth Help now your handmaid to sound foorth his praise You that are pleas'd in his pure excellencie Vouchsafe to grace this holy feast and me And as your rare Perfections shew'd the Glasse Wherein I saw each wrinckle of a fault You the Sunnes virtue I that faire greene grasse That flourisht fresh by your cleere virtues taught For you possest those gifts that grace the mind Restraining youth whom Errour oft doth blind In you these noble Virtues did I note First loue and feare of God of Prince of Lawes Rare Patience with a mind so farre
to liue in Shame And drinke that poyson with a cheerefull heart That could all Heavenly grace to her impart To the Ladie of Cumberland the Introduction to the passion of Christ. ¶ This Grace great Lady doth possesse thy Soule And makes thee pleasing in thy Makers sight This Grace doth all imperfect Thoughts controule Directing thee to serue thy God aright Still reckoning him the Husband of thy Soule Which is most pretious in his glorious sight Because the Worlds delights shee doth denie For him who for her sake vouchsaf'd to die And dying made her Dowager of all Nay more Co-heire of that eternall blisse That Angels lost and We by Adams fall Meere Cast-awaies rais'd by a Iudas kisse Christs bloody sweat the Vineger and Gall The Speare Sponge Nailes his buffeting with Fists His bitter Passion Agony and Death Did gaine vs Heauen when He did loose his breath A preamble of the Author before the Passion ¶ These high deserts inuites my lowely Muse To write of Him and pardon craue of thee For Time so spent I need make no excuse Knowing it doth with thy faire Minde agree So well as thou no Labour wilt refuse That to thy holy Loue may pleasing be His Death and Passion I desire to write And thee to reade the blessed Soules delight But my deare Muse now whither wouldst thou flie Aboue the pitch of thy appointed straine With Icarus thou seekest now to trie Not waxen wings but thy poore barren Braine Which farre too weake these fiely lines descrie Yet cannot this thy forward Mind restraine But thy poore Infant Verse must soare aloft Not fearing threat'ning dangers happening oft Thinke when the eye of Wisdom shall discover Thy weakling Muse to flie that scarce could creepe And in the Ayre aboue the Clowdes to hover When better 't were mued vp and fast asleepe They 'l thinke with Phaeton thou canst ne'r recover But helplesse with that poore yong Lad to weepe The little World of thy weake Wit on fire Where thou wilt perish in thine owne desire But yet the Weaker thou doest seeme to be In Sexe or Sence the more his Glory shines That doth infuze such powrefull Grace in thee To shew thy Love in these few humble Lines The Widowes Myte with this may well agree Her little All more worth than golden mynes Beeing more deerer to our loving Lord Than all the wealth that Kingdoms could afford Therefore I humbly for his Grace will pray That he will give me Power and Strength to Write That what I haue begun so end I may As his great Glory may appeare more bright Yea in these Lines I may no further stray Than his most holy Spirit shall giue me Light That blindest Weakenesse be not over-bold The manner of his Passion to vnfold In other Phrases than may well agree With his pure Doctrine and most holy Writ That Heavens cleare eye and all the World may see I seeke his Glory rather than to get The Vulgars breath the seed of Vanitie Nor Fames lowd Trumpet care I to admit But rather strive in plainest Words to showe The Matter which I seeke to vndergoe A Matter farre beyond my barren skill To shew with any Life this map of Death This Storie that whole Worlds with Bookes would fill In these few Lines will put me out of breath To run so swiftly vp this mightie Hill I may behold it with the eye of Faith But to present this pure vnspotted Lambe I must confesse I farre vnworthy am Yet if he please t' illuminate my Spirit And giue me Wisdom from his holy Hill That I may Write part of his glorious Merit If he vouchsafe to guide my Hand and Quill To shew his Death by which we doe inherit Those endlesse Ioyes that all our hearts doe fill Then will I tell of that sad blacke fac'd Night Whose mourning Mantle covered Heavenly Light Here beginâ—… the Passion 〈◊〉 Christ. ¶ That very Night our Saviour was betrayd Oh night exceeding all the nights of sorrow When our most blessed Lord although dismayd Yet would not he one Minutes respite borrow But to Mount Oliues went though sore afraid To welcome Night and entertaine the Morrow And as he oft vnto that place did goe So did he now to meete his long nurst woe He told his deere Disciples that they all Should be offended by him that selfe night His Griefe was great and theirs could not be small To part from him who was their sole Delight Saint Peter thought his Faith could neuer fall No mote could happen in so cleare a sight Which made him say Though all men were offended Yet would he never though his life were ended But his deare Lord made answere That before The Cocke did crowe he should deny him thrice This could not choose but grieue him very sore That his hot Loue should prooue more cold than Ice Denying him he did so much adore No imperfection in himselfe hespies But saith againe with him hee 'l surely die Rather than his deare Master once denie And all the rest did likewise say the same Of his Disciples at that instant time But yet poore Peter he was most too blame That thought aboue them all by Faith to clime His forward speech inflicted sinne and shame When Wisdoms eyes did looke and checke his crime Who did foresee and told it him before Yet would he needs auerre it more and more Now went our Lord vnto that holy place Sweet Gethsemaine hallowed by his presence That blessed Garden which did now embrace His holy corps yet could make no defence Against those Vipers obiects of disgrace Which sought that pure eternall Loue to quench Here his Disciples willed he to stay Whilst he went further where he meant to pray None were admitted with their Lord to goe But Peter and the sonnes of Zebed'us To them good Iesus opened all his woe He gaue them leaue his sorows to discusse His deepest griefes he did not scorne to showe These three deere friends so much he did intrust Beeing sorowfull and ouercharg'd with griefe He told it them yet look'd for no reliefe Sweet Lord how couldst thou thus to flesh and blood Communicate thy griefe tell of thy woes Thou knew'st they had no powre to doe thee good But were the cause thou must endure these blowes Beeing the Scorpions bred in Adams mud Whose poys'ned sinnes did worke among thy foes To re-ore-charge thy ouer-burd'ned soule Although the sorowes now they doe condole Yet didst thou tell them of thy troubled state Of thy Soules heauinesse vnto the death So full of Loue so free wert thou from hate To bid them stay whose sinnes did stop thy breath When thou wert entring at so straite a gate Yea entring euen into the doore of Death Thou bidst them tarry there and watch with thee Who from thy pretious blood-shed were not free Bidding them tarry thou didst further goe To meet affliction in such gracefull sort As might mooue pitie both in friend and foe Thy sorowes
the truth vntruths they seeke to frame Now al their powres their wits their strengths they bend Against one siely weake vnarmed man Who no resistance makes though much he can To free himselfe from these vnlearned men Who call'd him Sauiour in his blessed name Yet farre from knowing him their Sauiour then That came to saue both them and theirs from blame Though they retire and fall they come agen To make a surer purchase of their shame With lights and torches now they find the way To take the Shepheard whilst the sheep doe stray Why should vnlawfull actions vse the Light Inniquitie in Darkenesse seekes to dwell Sinne rides his circuit in the dead of Night Teaching all soules the ready waies to hell Sathan coms arm'd with all the powres of Spight Heartens his Champions makes them rude and fell Like rau'ning wolues to shed his guiltlesse blood Who thought no harme but di'd to doe them good Here Falshood beares the shew of formall Right Base Treacherie hath gote a guard of men Tyranny attends with all his strength and might To leade this siely Lamb to Lyons denne Yet he vnmoou'd in this most wretched plight Goes on to meete them knowes the houre and when The powre of darkenesse must expresse Gods ire Therefore to saue these few was his desire These few that wait on Pouerty and Shame And offer to be sharers in his Ils These few that will be spreaders of his Fame He will not leaue to Tyrants wicked wils But still desires to free them from all blame Yet Feare goes forward Anger Patience kils A Saint is mooued to reuenge a wrong And Mildnesse doth what doth to Wrath belong For Peter grieu'd at what might then befall Yet knew not what to doe nor what to thinke Thought something must be done now if at all To free his Master that he might not drinke This poys'ned draught farre bitterer than gall For now he sees him at the very brinke Of griesly Death who gins to shew his face Clad in all colours of a deepe disgrace And now those hands that neuer vs'd to fight Or drawe a weapon in his owne defence Too forward is to doe his Master right Since of his wrongs hee feeles so true a sence But ah poore Peter now thou wantest might And hee 's resolu'd with them he will goe hence To draw thy sword in such a helpelesse cause Offends thy Lord and is against the Lawes So much he hates Revenge so farre from Hate That he vouchsafes to heale whom thou dost wound His paths are Peace with none he holdes Debate His Patience stands vpon so sure a ground To counsell thee although it comes too late Nay to his foes his mercies so abound That he in pitty doth thy will restraine And heales the hurt and takes away the paine For willingly he will endure this wrong Although his pray'rs might have obtain'd such grace As to dissolve their plots though ne'r so strong And bring these wicked Actors in worse case Than Aegypts King on whom Gods plagues did throng But that foregoing Scriptures must take place If God by prayers had an army sent Of powrefull Angels who could them prevent Yet mightie IESVS meekely ask'd Why they With Swords and Staves doe come as to a Thiefe Hee teaching in the Temple day by day None did offend or give him cause of griefe Now all are forward glad is he that may Give most offence and yeeld him least reliefe His hatefull foes are ready now to take him And all his deere Disciples do forsake him Those deare Disciples that he most did love And were attendant at his becke and call When triall of affliction came to prove They first left him who now must leave them all For they were earth and he came from above Which made them apt to flie and fit to fall Though they protest they never will forsake him They do like men when dangers overtake them And he alone is bound to loose vs all Whom with vnhallowed hands they led along To wicked Caiphas in the Iudgement Hall Who studies onely how to doe him wrong High Priests and Elders People great and small With all reprochfull words about him throng False Witnesses are now call'd in apace Whose trothlesse tongues must make pale death imbrace The beauty of the World Heauens chiefest Glory The mirrour of Martyrs Crowne of holy Saints Loue of th' Almighty blessed Angels story Water of Life which none that drinks it faints Guide of the Iust where all our Light we borrow Mercy of Mercies Hearer of Complaints Triumpher ouer Death Ransomer of Sinne Falsly accused now his paines begin Their tongues doe serue him as a Passing bell For what they say is certainly beleeued So sound a tale vnto the Iudge they tell That he of Life must shortly be bereaued Their share of Heauen they doe not care to sell So his afflicted Heart be throughly grieued They tell his Words though farre from his intent And what his Speeches were not what he meant That he Gods holy Temple could destroy And in three daies could build it vp againe This seem'd to them a vaine and idle toy It would not sinke into their sinful braine Christs blessed body al true Christians joy Should die and in three dayes reuiue againe This did the Lord of Heauen and earth endure Vniustly to be charg'd by tongues impure And now they all doe giue attentiue eare To heare the answere which he will not make The people wonder how he can forbeare And these great wrongs so patiently can take But yet he answers not nor doth he care Much more he will endure for our sake Nor can their wisdoms any way discouer Who he should be that proou'd so true a Louer To entertaine the sharpest pangs of death And fight a combate in the depth of hell For wretched Worldlings made of dust and earth Whose hard'ned hearts with pride and mallice swell In midst of bloody sweat and dying breath He had compassion on these tyrants fell And purchast them a place in Heau'n for euer When they his Soule and Body sought to seuer Sinnes vgly mists so blinded had their eyes That at Noone dayes they could discerne no Light These were those fooles that thought themselues so wise The Iewish wolues that did our Sauiour bite For now they vse all meanes they can deuise To beate downe truth and goe against all right Yea now they take Gods holy name in vaine To know the truth which truth they doe prophane The chiefest Hel-hounds of this hatefull crew Rose vp to aske what answere he could make Against those false accusers in his view That by his speech they might aduantage take He held his peace yet knew they said not true No answere would his holy wisdome make Till he was charged in his glorious name Whose pleasure t was he should endure this shame Then with so mild a Maiestie he spake As they might easly know from whence he came His harmelesse tongue doth no exceptions
may he grieue well may he sigh and groane Vnder the burthen of a heauy crosse He faintly goes to make their gaine his losse The sorrow of the virgin Marie ¶ His woefull Mother wayting on her Sonne All comfortlesse in depth of sorow drowned Her griefes extreame although but new begun To see his bleeding body oft shee swouned How could shee choose but thinke her selfe vndone He dying with whose glory shee was crowned None euer lost so great a losse as shee Beeing Sonne and Father of Eternitie Her teares did wash away his pretious blood That sinners might not tread it vnder feet To worship him and that it did her good Vpon her knees although in open street Knowing he was the Iessie floure and bud That must be gath'red when it smell'd most sweet Her Sonne her Husband Father Saviour King Whose death killd Death and tooke away his sting Most blessed Virgin in whose faultlesse fruit All Nations of the earth must needes reioyce No Creature having sence though ne'r so brute But ioyes and trembles when they heare his voyce His wisedome strikes the wisest persons mute Faire chosen vessell happy in his choyce Deere Mother of our Lord whose reuerend name All people Blessed call and spread thy fame For the Almightie magnified thee And looked downe vpon thy meane estate Thy lowly mind and vnstain'd Chastitie Did pleade for Loue at great Iehouaes gate Who sending swift-wing'd Gabriel vnto thee His holy will and pleasure to relate To thee most beauteous Queene of Woman-kind The Angell did vnfold his Makers mind The salutation of the virgin Marie ¶ He thus beganne Haile Mary full of grace Thou freely art beloued of the Lord He is with thee behold thy happy case What endlesse comfort did these words afford To thee that saw'st an Angell in the place Proclaime thy Virtues worth and to record Thee blessed among women that thy praise Should last so many worlds beyond thy daies Loe this high message to thy troubled spirit He doth deliuer in the plainest sence Sayes Thou shouldst beare a Sonne that shal inherit His Father Dauids throne free from offence Call's him that Holy thing by whose pure merit We must be sau'd tels what he is of whence His worth his greatnesse what his name must be Who should be call'd the Sonne of the most High He cheeres thy troubled soule bids thee not feare When thy pure thoughts could hardly apprehend This salutation when he did appeare Nor couldst thou judge whereto those words did tend His pure aspect did mooue thy modest cheere To muse yet joy that God vouchsaf'd to send His glorious Angel who did thee assure To beare a child although a Virgin pure Nay more thy Sonne should Rule and Raigne for euer Yea of his Kingdom there should be no end Ouer the house of Iacob Heauens great Giuer Would giue him powre and to that end did send His faithfull seruant Gabriel to deliuer To thy chast eares no word that might offend But that this blessed Infant borne of thee Thy Sonne The onely Sonne of God should be When on the knees of thy submissiue heart Thou humbly didst demand How that should be Thy virgin thoughts did thinke none could impart This great good hap and blessing vnto thee Farre from desire of any man thou art Knowing not one thou art from all men free When he to answere this thy chaste desire Giues thee more cause to wonder and admire That thou a blessed Virgin shoulst remaine Yea that the holy Ghost should come on thee A maiden Mother subiect to no paine For highest powre should ouershadow thee Could thy faire eyes from teares of joy refraine When God look'd downe vpon thy poore degree Making thee Seruant Mother Wife and Nurse To Heauens bright King that freed vs from the curse Thus beeing crown'd with glory from aboue Grace and Perfection resting in thy breast Thy humble answer doth approoue thy Loue And all these sayings in thy heart doe rest Thy Child a Lambe and thou a Turtle doue Aboue all other women highly blest To find such fauour in his glorious sight In whom thy heart and soule doe most delight What wonder in the world more strange could seeme Than that a Virgin could conceiue and beare Within her wombe a Sonne That should redeeme All Nations on the earth and should repaire Our old decaies who in such high esteeme Should prize all mortals liuing in his feare As not to shun Death Pouertie and Shame To saue their soules and spread his glorious Name And partly to fulfil his Fathers pleasure Whose powrefull hand allowes it not for strange If he vouchsafe the riches of his treasure Pure Righteousnesse to take such il exchange On all Iniquitie to make a seisure Giuing his snow-white Weed for ours in change Our mortall garment in a skarlet Die Too base a roabe for Immortalitie Most happy news that euer yet was brought When Pouerty and Riches met together The wealth of Heauen in our fraile clothing wrought Saluation by his happy comming hither Mighty Messias who so deerely bought Vs Slaues to finne farre lighter than a feather Toss'd to and fro with euery wicked wind The world the flesh or Deuill giues to blind Who on his shoulders our blacke sinnes doth beare To that most blessed yet accursed Crosse Where fastning them he rids vs of our feare Yea for our gaine he is content with losse Our ragged clothing scornes he not to weare Though foule rent torne disgracefull rough and grosse Spunne by that monster Sinne and weav'd by Shame Which grace it selfe disgrac'd with impure blame How canst thou choose faire Virgin then but mourne When this sweet of-spring of thy body dies When thy faire eies beholds his bodie torne The peoples sury heares the womens cries His holy name prophan'd He made a scorne Abusde with all their hatefull slaunderous lies Bleeding and fainting in such wondrous sort As scarce his feeble limbes can him support Now Simon of Cyrene passeth them by Whom they compell sweet IESVS Crosse to beare To Golgatha there doe they meane to trie All cruell meanes to worke in him dispaire That odious place where dead mens skulls did lie There must our Lord for present death prepare His sacred blood must grace that loathsome field To purge more filth than that foule place could yield Christs death ¶ For now arriu'd vnto this hatefull place In which his Crosse erected needes must bee False hearts and willing hands come on apace All prest to ill and all desire to see Gracelesse themselues still seeking to disgrace Bidding him If the Sonne of God he bee To saue himselfe if he could others saue With all th'opprobrious words that might depraue His harmelesse hands vnto the Crosse they nailde And feet that neuer trode in sinners trace Betweene two theeues vnpitied vnbewailde Saue of some few possessors of his grace With sharpest pangs and terrors thus appailde Sterne Death makes way that Life might giue him place His eyes with teares his
are Washed with milke to giue the more delight His head is likened to the finest gold His curled lockes so beauteous to behold Blacke as a Raven in her blackest hew His lips like skarlet threeds yet much more sweet Than is the sweetest hony dropping dew Or hony combes where all the Bees doe meet Yea he is constant and his words are true His cheekes are beds of spices flowers sweet His lips like Lillies dropping downe pure mirrhe Whose loue before all worlds we doe preferre To my Lady of Cumberland ¶ Ah! giue me leaue good Lady now to leaue This taske of Beauty which I tooke in hand I cannot wade so deepe I may deceaue My selfe before I can attaine the land Therefore good Madame in your heart I leaue His perfect picture where it still shall stand Deepely engraued in that holy shrine Enuironed with Loue and Thoughts diuine There may you see him as a God in glory And as a man in miserable case There may you reade his true and perfect storie His bleeding body there you may embrace And kisse his dying cheekes with teares of sorrow With ioyfull griefe you may intreat for grace And all your prayers and your almes-deeds May bring to stop his cruell wounds that bleeds Oft times hath he made triall of your loue And in your Faith hath tooke no small delight By Crosses and Afflictions he doth proue Yet still your heart remaineth firme and right Your loue so strong as nothing can remoue Your thoughts beeing placed on him both day and night Your constant soule doth lodge betweene her brests This Sweet of sweets in which all glory rests Sometime h' appeares to thee in Shepheards weed And so presents himselfe before thine eyes A good old man that goes his flocke to feed Thy colour changes and thy heart doth rise Thou call'st he comes thou find'st t is he indeed Thy Soule conceaues that he is truely wise Nay more desires that he may be the Booke Whereon thine eyes continually may looke Sometime imprison'd naked poore and bare Full of diseases impotent and lame Blind deafe and dumbe he comes vnto his faire To see if yet shee will remaine the same Nay sicke and wounded now thou do'st prepare To cherish him in thy deare Louers name Yea thou bestow'st all paines all cost all care That may relieue him and his health repaire These workes of mercy are so sweete so deare To him that is the Lord of Life and Loue That all thy prayers he vouchsafes to heare And sends his holy Spirit from aboue Thy eyes are op'ned and thou seest so cleare No worldly thing can thy faire mind remoue Thy faith thy prayers and his speciall grace Doth open Heau'n where thou behold'st his face These are those Keyes Saint Peter did possesse Which with a Spirituall powre are giu'n to thee To heale the soules of those that doe transgresse By thy faire virtues which if once they see Vnto the like they doe their minds addresse Such as thou art such they desire to be If they be blind thou giu'st to them their sight If deafe or lame they heare and goe vpright Yea if possest with any euill spirits Such powre thy faire examples haue obtain'd To cast them out applying Christs pure merits By which they are bound and of all hurt restrain'd If strangely taken wanting sence or wits Thy faith appli'd vnto their soules so pain'd Healeth all griefes and makes them grow so strong As no defects can hang vpon them long Thou beeing thus rich no riches do'st respect Nor do'st thou care for any outward showe The proud that doe faire Virtues rules neglect Desiring place thou fittest them belowe All wealth and honour thou do'st quite reiect If thou perceiu'st that once it prooues a foe To virtue learning and the powres diuine Thou mai'st conuert but neuer wilt incline To fowle disorder or licentiousnesse But in thy modest vaile do'st sweetly couer The staines of other sinnes to make themselues That by this meanes thou mai'st in time recouer Those weake lost sheepe that did so long transgresse Presenting them vnto thy deerest Louer That when he brings them backe vnto his fold In their conuersion then he may behold Thy beauty shining brighter than the Sunne Thine honour more than euer Monarke gaind Thy wealth exceeding his that Kingdomes wonne Thy Loue vnto his Spouse thy Faith vnfaind Thy Constancy in what thou hast begun Till thou his heauenly Kingdom haue obtaind Respecting worldly wealth to be but drosse Which if abuz'd doth prooue the owners losse Great Cleopatra's loue to Anthony Can no way be compared vnto thine Shee left her Loue in his extremitie When greatest need should cause her to combine Her force with his to get the Victory Her Loue was earthly and thy Loue Diuine Her Loue was onely to support her pride Humilitie thy Loue and Thee doth guide That glorious part of Death which last shee plai'd T' appease the ghost of her deceased Loue Had neuer needed if shee could haue stai'd When his extreames made triall and did proue Her leaden loue vnconstant and afraid Their wicked warres the wrath of God might moue To take reuenge for chast Octavia's wrongs Because shee enjoyes what vnto her belongs No Cleopatra though thou wert as faire As any Creature in Antonius eyes Yea though thou wert as rich as wise as rare As any Pen could write or Wit deuise Yet with this Lady canst thou not compare Whose inward virtues all thy worth denies Yet thou a blacke Egyptian do'st appeare Thou false shee true and to her Loue more deere Shee sacrificeth to her deerest Loue With flowres of Faith and garlands of Good deeds Shee flies not from him when afflictions proue Shee beares his crosse and stops his wounds that bleeds Shee loues and liues chaste as the Turtle doue Shee attends vpon him and his flocke shee feeds Yea for one touch of death which thou did'st trie A thousand deaths shee euery day doth die Her virtuous life exceeds thy worthy death Yea she hath richer ornaments of state Shining more glorious than in dying breath Thou didst when either pride or cruell fate Did worke thee to preuent a double death To stay the malice scorne and cruell hate Of Rome that joy'd to see thy pride pull'd downe Whose Beauty wrought the hazard of her Crowne Good Madame though your modestie be such Not to acknowledge what we know and find And that you thinke these prayses ouermuch Which doe expresse the beautie of your mind Yet pardon me although I giue a touch Vnto their eyes that else would be so blind As not to see thy store and their owne wants From whose faire seeds of Virtue spring these plants And knowe when first into this world I came This charge was giu'n me by th' Eternall powres Th'euerlasting Trophie of thy fame To build and decke it with the sweetest flowres That virtue yeelds Then Madame doe not blame Me when I shew the World but what is yours And decke you with