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
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
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 the meanest most vnworthy hand that will vndertake to write thereof neither can it receiue any blemish thereby for as a right diamond can loose no whit of his beautie by the blacke foyle vnderneath it neither by beeing placed in the darke but retaines his naturall beauty and brightnesse shining in greater perfection than before so this most pretious diamond for beauty and riches exceeding all the most pretious diamonds and rich jewels of the world can receiue no blemish nor impeachment by my vnworthy hand writing but wil with the Sunne retaine his owne brightnesse and most glorious lustre though neuer so many blind eyes looke vpon him Therefore good Madame to the most perfect eyes of your vnderstanding I deliuer the inestinable treasure of all elected soules to bee perused at conuenient times as also the mirrour of your most worthy minde which may remaine in the world many yeares longer than your Honour or my selfe can liue to be a light vnto those that come after desiring to tread in the narrow path of virtue that leads the way to heauen In which way I pray God send your Honour long to continue that your light may so shine before men that they may glorifie your father which is in Heauen and that I and many others may follow you in the same tracke So wishing you in this world all increase of health and honour and in the world to come life euerlasting I rest ¶ To the Ladie Katherine Countesse of Suffolke ALthough great Lady it may seeme right strange That I a stranger should presume thus farre To write to you yet as the times doe change So are we subiect to that fatall starre Vnder the which we were produc'd to breath That starre that guides vs euen vntill our death And guided me to frame this worke of grace Not of it selfe but by celestiall powres To which both that and wee must needs giue place Since what we haue we cannot count it ours For health wealth honour sickenesse death all Is in Gods powre which makes vs rise and fall And since his powre hath giuen me powre to write A subiect sit for you to looke vpon Wherein your soule may take no small delight When her bright eyes beholds that holy one By whose great wisedome loue and speciall grace Shee was created to behold his face Vouchsafe sweet Lady to accept these lines Writ by a hand that doth desire to doe All seruices to you whose worth combines The worthiâ—st minds to loue and honour you Whose beautie wisedome children high estate Doe all concurre to make you fortunate But chiefly your most honorable Lord Whose noble virtues Fame can ne'r forget His hand being alwayes ready to afford Help to the weake to the vnfortunate All which begets more honour and respect Than Croessus wealth or Caesars sterne aspect And rightly sheweth that hee is descended Of honourable Howards antient house Whose noble deedes by former times commended Do now remaine in your most loyall Spouse On whom God powres all blessings from aboue Wealth honour children and a worthy Loue Which is more deare to him than all the rest You being the louing Hinde and pleasant Roe Wife of his youth in whom his soule is blest Fountaine from whence his chiefe delights do flow Faire tree from which the fruit of Honor springs Heere I present to you the King of kings Desiring you to take a perfit view Of those great torments Patience did indure And reape those Comforts that belongs to you Which his most painfull death did then assure Writing the Couenant with his pretious blood That your faire soule might bathe her in that flood And let your noble daughters likewise reade This little Booke that I present to you On heauenly food let them vouchsafe to feede Heere they may see a Louer much more true Than euer was since first the world began This poore rich King that di'd both God and man Yea let those Ladies which do represent All beauty wisedome zeale and loue Receiue this iewell from Iehoua sent This spotlesse Lambe this perfit patient Doue Of whom faire Gabriel Gods bright Mercury Brought downe a message from the Deitie Here may they see him in a flood of teares Crowned with thornes and bathing in his blood Here may they see his feares exceed all feares When Heauen in Iustice flat against him stood And loathsome death with grim and gastly look Presented him that blacke infernall booke Wherein the sinnes of all the world were writ In deepe Characters of due punishment And naught but dying breath could cancel it Shame death and hell must make the attonement Shewing their euidence seizing wrongful Right Placing heau'ns Beauty in deaths darkest night Yet through the sable Clowdes of Shame Death His beauty shewes more clearer than before Death lost his strength when he did loose his breath As fire supprest doth shine and flame the more So in Deaths ashie pale discoloured face Fresh beauty shin'd yeelding farre greater grace No Doue no Swan nor Iu'rie could compare With this faire corps when 't was by death imbrac'd No rose nor no vermillion halfe so faire As was that pretious blood that iuterlac'd His body which bright Angels did attend Waiting on him that must to Heauen ascend In whom is all that Ladies can desire If Beauty who hath bin more faire than he If Wisedome doth not all the world admire The depth of his that cannot searched be If wealth if honour fame or Kingdoms store Who euer liu'd that was possest of more If zeale if grace if loue if pietie If constancie if faith if faire obedience If valour patience or sobrietie If chast behauiour meekenesse continence If iustice mercie bountie charitie Who can compare with his Diuinitie Whose vertues more than thoughts can apprehend I leaue to their more cleere imagination That will vouchsafe their borrowed time to spend In meditating and in contemplation Of his rare parts true honours faire prospect The perfect line that goodnesse doth direct And vnto you I wish those sweet desires That from your perfect thoughts doe daily spring Increasing still pure bright and holy fires Which sparkes of pretious grace by faith doe spring Mounting your soule vnto eternall rest There to liue happily among the best ⧠To the Ladie ANNE Countesse of Dorcet * ⎠* TO you I dedicate this worke of Grace This frame of Glory which I haue erected For your faire mind I hold the fittest place Where virtue should be fetled protected If highest thoughts true honor do imbrace And holy Wisdom is of them respected Then in this Mirrour let your faire eyes looke To view your virtues in this blessed Booke Blest by our Sauiours merits not my skil Which I acknowledge to be very small Yet if the least part of his blessed Will I haue perform'd I count I haue done all One sparke of grace sufficient is to fill Our Lampes with oyle ready when he doth call To enter with the Bridegroome to
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
body full of wounds Death last of paines his sorrows all confounds His joynts dis-joynted and his legges hang downe His alablaster breast his bloody side His members torne and on his head a Crowne Of sharpest Thorns to satisfie for pride Anguish and Paine doe all his Sences drowne While they his holy garments do diuide His bowells drie his heart full fraught with griefe Crying to him that yeelds him no reliefe To my Laâ—â— of Cumberland ¶ This with the eie of Faith thou maist behold Deere Spouse of Christ and more than I can write And here both Griefe and Ioy thou maist vnfold To view thy Loue in this most heauy plight Bowing his head his bloodlesse body cold Those eies waxe dimme that gaue vs all our light His count'nance pale yet still continues sweet His blessed blood watring his pierced feet O glorious miracle without compare Last but not least which was by him effected Vniting death life misery joy and care By his sharpe passion in his deere elected Who doth the Badges of like Liueries weare Shall find how deere they are of him respected No joy griefe paine life death was like to his Whose infinite dolours wrought eternall blisse â—…e terror of â—… creatures â—…hat inâ—…t when â—…rist died ¶ What creature on the earth did then remaine On whom the horror of this shamefull deed Did not inflict some violent touch or straine To see the Lord of all the world to bleed His dying breath did rend huge rockes in twaine The heauens betooke them to their mourning weed The Sunne grew darke and scorn'd to giue them light Who durst ecclipse a glory farre more bright The Moone and Starres did hide themselues for shame The earth did rremble in her loyall feare The Temple vaile did rent to spread his fame The Monuments did open euery where Dead Saints did rise forth of their graues and came To diuers people that remained there Within that holy City whose offence Did put their Maker to this large expence Things reasonable and reasonlesse possest The terrible impression of this fact For his oppression made them all opprest When with his blood he seal'd so faire an act In restlesse miserie to procure our rest His glorious deedes that dreadfull prison sackt When Death Hell Diuells vsing all their powre Were ouercome in that most blessed houre Being dead he killed Death and did suruiue That prowd insulting Tyrant in whose place He sends bright Immortalitie to reuiue Those whom his yron armes did long embrace Who from their loathsome graues brings them aliue In glory to behold their Sauiours face Who tooke the keys of all Deaths powre away Opening to those that would his name obay O wonder more than man can comprehend Our Ioy and Griefe both at one instant fram'd Compounded Contrarieties contend Each to exceed yet neither to be blam'd Our Griefe to see our Sauiours wretched end Our Ioy to know both Death and Hell he tam'd That we may say O Death where is thy sting Hell yeeld thy victory to thy conq'ring King Can stony hearts refraine from shedding teares To view the life and death of this sweet Saint His austere course in yong and tender yeares When great indurements could not make him faint His wants his paines his torments and his feares All which he vndertooke without constraint To shew that infinite Goodnesse must restore What infinite Iustice looked for and more Yet had he beene but of a meane degree His suffrings had beene small to what they were Meane minds will shew of what meane mouldes they bee Small griefes seeme great yet Vse doth make them beare But ah t is hard to stirre a sturdy tree Great dangers hardly puts great minds in feare They will conceale their griefes which mightie grow In their stout hearts vntill they ouerflow If then an earthly Prince may ill endure The least of those afflictions which he bare How could this all-commaunding King procure Such grieuous torments with his mind to square Legions of Angells being at his Lure He might haue liu'd in pleasure without care None can conceiue the bitter paines he felt When God and man must suffer without guilt Take all the Suffrings Thoughts can thinke vpon In eu'ry man that this huge world hath bred Let all those Paines and Suffrings meet in one Yet are they not a Mite to that he did Endure for vs Oh let vs thinke thereon That God should haue his pretious blood so shed His Greatnesse clothed in our fraile attire And pay so deare a ransome for the hire Loe here was glorie miserie life and death An vnion of contraries did accord Gladnesse and sadnesse here had one berth This wonder wrought the Passion of our Lord He suffring for all the sinnes of all th' earth No satisfaction could the world afford But this rich Iewell which from God was sent To call all those that would in time repent Which I present deare Lady to your view Vpon the Crosse depriu'd of life or breath To judge if euer Louer were so true To yeeld himselfe vnto such shamefull death Now blessed Ioseph doth both beg and sue To haue his body who possest his faith And thinkes if he this small request obtaines He wins more wealth than in the world remaines Thus honourable Ioseph is possest Of what his heart and soule so much desired And now he goes to giue that body rest That all his life with griefes and paines was tired He finds a Tombe a Tombe most rarely blest In which was neuer creature yet interred There this most pretious body he incloses Imbalmd and deckt with Lillies and with Roses Loe here the Beautie of Heau'n and Earth is laid The purest coulers vnderneath the Sunne But in this place he cannot long be staid Glory must end what horror hath begun For he the furie of the Heauens obay'd And now he must possesse what he hath wonne The Maries doe with pretious balmes attend But beeing come they find it to no end Christs resurrection ¶ For he is rize from Death t'Eternall Life And now those pretious oyntments he desires Are brought vnto him by his faithfull Wife The holy Church who in those rich attires Of Patience Loue Long suffring Voide of strife Humbly presents those oyntments he requires The oyles of Mercie Charitie and Faith Shee onely giues that which no other hath A briefe description of his beautie vpon the Canticles ¶ These pretious balmes doe heale his grieuous wounds And water of Compunction washeth cleane The soares of sinnes which in our Soules abounds So faire it heales no skarre is euer seene Yet all the glory vnto Christ redounds His pretious blood is that which must redeeme Those well may make vs louely in his sight But cannot saue without his powrefull might This is that Bridegroome that appeares so faire So sweet so louely in his Spouses sight That vnto Snowe we may his face compare His cheekes like skarlet and his eyes so bright As purest Doues that in the riuers
that crowne which is your due That of Heau'ns beauty Earth may take a view Though famous women elder times haue knowne Whose glorious actions did appeare so bright That powrefull men by them were ouerthrowne And all their armies ouercome in fight The Scythian women by their powre alone Put king Darius vnto shamefull flight All Asia yeelded to their conq'ring hand Great Alexander could not their powre withstand Whose worth though writ in lines of blood and fire Is not to be compared vnto thine Their powre was small to ouercome Desire Or to direct their wayes by Virtues line Were they aliue they would thy Life admire And vnto thee their honours would resigne For thou a greater conquest do'st obtaine Than they who haue so many thousands slaine Wise Deborah that judged Israel Nor valiant Iudeth cannot equall thee Vnto the first God did his will reueale And gaue her powre to set his people free Yea Iudeth had the powre likewise to queale Proud Holifernes that the just might see What small defence vaine pride and greatnesse hath Against the weapons of Gods word and faith But thou farre greater warre do'st still maintaine Against that many headed monster Sinne Whose mortall sting hath many thousand slaine And euery day fresh combates doe begin Yet cannot all his venome lay one staine Vpon thy Soule thou do'st the conquest winne Though all the world he daily doth deuoure Yet ouer thee he neuer could get powre For that one worthy deed by Deb'rah done Thou hast performed many in thy time For that one Conquest that faire Iudeth wonne By which shee did the steps of honour clime Thou hast the Conquest of all Conquests wonne When to thy Conscience Hell can lay no crime For that one head that Iudeth bare away Thou tak'st from Sinne a hundred heads a day Though virtuous Hester fasted three dayes space And spent her time in prayers all that while That by Gods powre shee might obtaine such grace That shee and hers might not become a spoyle To wicked Hamon in whose crabbed face Was seene the map of malice enuie guile Her glorious garments though shee put apart So to present a pure and single heart To God in sack-cloth ashes and with teares Yet must faire Hester needs giue place to thee Who hath continu'd dayes weekes months and yeares In Gods true seruice yet thy heart beeing free From doubt of death or any other feares Fasting from sinne thou pray'st thine eyes may see Him that hath full possession of thine heart From whose sweet loue thy Soule can neuer part His Loue not Feare makes thee to fast and pray No kinsmans counsell needs thee to aduise The sack-cloth thou do'st weare both night and day Is worldly troubles which thy rest denies The ashes are the Vanities that play Ouer thy head and steale before thine eyes Which thou shak'st off when mourning time is past That royall roabes thou may'st put on at last Ioachims wife that faire and constant Dame Who rather chose a cruel death to die Than yeeld to those two Elders voide of shame When both at once her chastitie did trie Whose Innocencie bare away the blame Vntill th' Almighty Lord had heard her crie And rais'd the spirit of a Child to speake Making the powrefull judged of the weake Although her virtue doe deserue to be Writ by that hand that neuer purchas'd blame In holy Writ where all the world may see Her perfit life and euer honoured name Yet was she not to be compar'd to thee Whose many virtues doe increase thy fame For shee oppos'd against old doting Lust Who with lifes danger she did feare to trust But your chafte breast guarded with strength of mind Hates the imbracements of vnchaste desires You louing God liue in your selfe confind From vnpure Loue your purest thoughts retires Your perfit sight could neuer be so blind To entertaine the old or yong desires Of idle Louers which the world presents Whose base abuses worthy minds preuents Euen as the constant Lawrell alwayes greene No parching heate of Summer can deface Nor pinching Winter euer yet was seene Whose nipping frosts could wither or disgrace So you deere Ladie still remaine as Queene Subduing all affections that are base Vnalterable by the change of times Not following but lamenting others crimes No feare of Death or dread of open shame Hinders your perfect heart to giue consent Nor loathsome age whom Time could neuer tame From ill designes whereto their youth was bent But loue of God care to preserue your fame And spend that pretious time that God hath sent In all good exercises of the minde Whereto your noble nature is inclin'd That Ethyopian Queene did gaine great fame Who from the Southerne world did come to see Great Salomon the glory of whose name Had spread it selfe ore all the earth to be So great that all the Princes thither came To be spectators of his royaltie And this faire Queene of Sheba came from farre To reuerence this new appearing starre From th' vtmost part of all the Earth shee came To heare the Wisdom of this worthy King To trie if Wonder did agree with Fame And many faire rich presents did she bring Yea many strange hard questions did shee frame All which were answer'd by this famous King Nothing was hid that in her heart did rest And all to prooue this King so highly blest Here Maiestie with Maiestie did meete Wisdome to Wisdome yeelded true content One Beauty did another Beauty greet Bounty to Bountie neuer could repent Here all distaste is troden vnder feet No losse of time where time was so well spent In virtuous exercises of the minde In which this Queene did much contentment finde Spirits affect where they doe sympathize Wisdom desires Wisdome to embrace Virtue couets her like and doth deuize How she her friends may entertaine with grace Beauty sometime is pleas'd to feed her eyes With viewing Beautie in anothers face Both good and bad in this point doe agree That each desireth with his like to be And this Desire did worke a strange effect To drawe a Queene forth of her natiue Land Not yeelding to the nicenesse and respect Of woman-kind shee past both sea and land All feare of dangers shee did quite neglect Onely to see to heare and vnderstand That beauty wisedome maiestie and glorie That in her heart imprest his perfect storie Yet this faire map of maiestie and might Was but a figure of thy deerest Loue Borne t' expresse that true and heauenly light That doth all other joyes imperfect proue If this faire Earthly starre did shine so bright What doth that glorious Sonne that is aboue Who weares th' imperiall crowne of heauen and earth And made all Christians blessed in his berth If that small sparke could yeeld so great a fire As to inflame the hearts of many Kings To come to see to heare and to admire His wisdome tending but to worldly things Then much more reason haue we to desire That heau'nly
For by this blessed food he did contriue A worke of grace by this his gift externall With heau'nly Manna food of his elected To feed their soules of whom he is respected This wheate of Heauen the blessed Angells bread Wherewith he feedes his deere adopted Heires Sweet foode of life that doth reuiue the dead And from the liuing takes away all cares To taste this sweet Saint Laurence did not dread The broyling gridyorne cool'd with holy teares Yeelding his naked body to the fire To taste this sweetnesse such was his desire Nay what great sweetnesse did th'Apostles taste Condemn'd by Counsell when they did returne Rejoycing that for him they di'd disgrac'd Whose sweetnes made their hearts and soules so burne With holy zeale and loue most pure and chaste For him they sought from whome they might not turne Whose loue made Andrew goe most joyfully Vnto the Crosse on which he meant to die The Princes of th'Apostles were so filled With the delicious sweetnes of his grace That willingly they yeelded to be killed Receiuing deaths that were most vile and base For his name sake that all might be fulfilled They with great joy all torments did imbrace The vgli'st face that Death could euer yeeld Could neuer feare these Champions from the field They still continued in their glorious fight Against the enemies of flesh and blood And in Gods law did set their whole delight Suppressing euill and erecting good Not sparing Kings in what they did not right Their noble Actes they seal'd with deerest blood One chose the Gallowes that vnseemely death The other by the Sword did loose his breath His Head did pay the dearest rate of sin Yeelding it joyfully vnto the Sword To be cut off as he had neuer bin For speaking truth according to Gods word Telling king Herod of incestuous sin That hatefull crime of God and man abhorr'd His brothers wife that prowd licentious Dame Cut off his Head to take away his shame Loe Madame heere you take a view of those Whose worthy steps you doe desire to tread Deckt in those colours which our Sauiour chose Colours of Confessors Martirs The purest colours both of White and Red Their freshest beauties would I faine disclose By which our Sauiour most was honoured But my weake Muse desireth now to rest Folding vp all their Beauties in your breast Whose excellence hath rais'd my sprites to write Of what my thoughts could hardly apprehend Your rarest Virtues did my soule delight Great Ladie of my heart I must commend You that appeare so faire in all mens fight On your Deserts my Muses doe attend You are the Articke Starre that guides my hand All what I am I rest at your command FINIS The Description of Cooke-ham FArewell sweet Cooke-ham where I first obtain'd Grace from that Grace where perfit Grace remain'd And where the Muses gaue their full consent I should haue powre the virtuous to content Where princely Palace will'd me to indite The sacred Storie of the Soules delight Farewell sweet Place where Virtue then did rest And all delights did harbour in her breast Neuer shall my sad eies againe behold Those pleasures which my thoughts did then vnfold Yet you great Lady Mistris of that Place From whose desires did spring this worke of Grace Vouchsafe to thinke vpon those pleasures past As fleeting worldly Ioyes that could not last Or as dimme shadowes of celestiall pleasures Which are desir'd aboue all earthly treasures Oh how me thought against you thither came Each part did seeme some new delight to frame The House receiu'd all ornaments to grace it And would indure no foulenesse to deface it The Walkes put on their summer Liueries And all things else did hold like similies The Trees with leaues with fruits with flowers clad Embrac'd each other seeming to be glad Turning themselues to beauteous Canopies To shade the bright Sunne from your brighter eies The cristall Streames with siluer spangles graced While by the glorious Sunne they were embraced The little Birds in chirping notes did sing To entertaine both You and that sweet Spring And Philomela with her sundry layes Both You and that delightfull Place did praise Oh how me thought each plant each floure each tree Set forth their beauties then to welcome thee The very Hills right humbly did descend When you to tread vpon them did intend And as you set your feete they still did rise Glad that they could receiue so rich a prise The gentle Windes did take delight to bee Among those woods that were so grac'd by thee And in sad murmure vtterd pleasing sound That Pleasure in that place might more abound The swelling Bankes deliuer'd all their pride When such a Phoenix once they had espide Each Arbor Banke each Seate each stately Tree Thought themselues honor'd in supporting thee The pretty Birds would oft come to attend thee Yet flie away for feare they should offend thee The little creatures in the Burrough by Would come abroad to sport them in your eye Yet fearefull of the Bowe in your faire Hand Would runne away when you did make a stand Now let me come vnto that stately Tree Wherein such goodly Prospects you did see That Oake that did in height his fellowes passe As much as lofty trees low growing grasse Much like a comely Cedar streight and tall Whose beauteous stature farre exceeded all How often did you visite this faire tree Which seeming joyfull in receiuing thee Would like a Palme tree spread his armes abroad Desirous that you there should make abode Whose faire greene leaues much like a comely vaile Defended Phebus when he would assaile Whose pleasing boughes did yeeld a coole fresh ayre Ioying his happinesse when you were there Where beeing seated you might plainely see Hills vales and woods as if on bended knee They had appeard your honour to salute Or to preferre some strange vnlook'd for sute All interlac'd with brookes and christall springs A Prospect fit to please the eyes of Kings And thirteene shires appear'd all in your sight Europe could not affoard much more delight What was there then but gaue you all content While you the time in meditation spent Of their Creators powre which there you saw In all his Creatures held a perfit Law And in their beauties did you plaine descrie His beauty wisdome grace loue maiestie In these sweet woods how often did you walke With Christ and his Apostles there to talke Placing his holy Writ in some faire tree To meditate what you therein did see With Moyses you did mount his holy Hill To know his pleasure and performe his Will With louely Dauid you did often sing His holy Hymnes to Heauens Eternall King And in sweet musicke did your soule delight To sound his prayses morning noone and night With blessed Ioseph you did often feed Your pined brethren when they stood in need And that sweet Lady sprung from Cliffords race Of noble Bedfords blood faire steame of Grace To honourable Dorset now