one silly Teare O Aire and Earth why doe ye not conspire To burne this Turfe that Water wants with Fire Aswell the Crosse the Hammer Nailes and Speare Did crucifie thy Iesus as the Iewes No no thy sinnes his Crucifiers were That by his death they might their life excuse O Synne how sinnefull art Thou sith thou must Excuse thy Crymes by crimes much more vniust I st not enough the Soule quite to subuert Wherein Thou liu'st but must thou spoile Him too Through whome the Soule doth liue by whom Thou Art And so do That that doth thy selfe vndoo Then blame not Faith thy foe to spoile thy State When thou thy selfe thy selfe dost dissipate Thinke Man whose Feete are swifter faâ—re then Thought To doe what ere is opposite to Good Thinke that thou seest him on his face longe straught In Praier and in Passion sweating Bloud Sith from al parts for Thee his bloud out flies Giue Him one Drop of Water from thine Eyes A Birde there is as Pliny doth report That in the time of treading sweateth bloud That Birde Ciconia height sweates so in sport But this kinde Pellican in maestiue moode So That in pleasure sweats begetting young But This in Paine with sanguine sweate among This kinde most kinde Soule-sauing Emperick His owne blood broacheth so our Soules to saue And for our Healths He maks his owne Heart sick Yea dyes that by his Death wee life might haue Then sith this blest by-parted Man-god dies For Mans loue Mans loue should be like likewise Thinke now thou seest O ioy-griefe-breeding sight Ioy for his merit griefe for his annoy Perditions child with Men Swords Staues and Light The Lord of Light to catch and so destroy Now thinke thou seest that Reprobate by birth With kisse betray the Lord of Heau'n and Earth Then see ah see how They Limbes of that Lord That Lords it in Deaths gloomie Continent His tender hands bind with a boist'rous cord So strait that straight with rigour violent It seemes to cut in two those tender hands For soft flesh yeelds when such rough force commands And canst Thou see O Thou thou carelesse Man Thou worme thou insect slaue to base Contempt Freedome thus bound for thee if so thou can And yet liue loosly th' art from grace exempt O that the God of grace as Man should die For man whose grace in loosenesse most doth lie Now thinke O thinke thou seest those hounds of hell That yelp out blasphemies about their pray With vngraue gate to runne doe him compell And with tumultuous noyse him lead away Ah see how He that staid the Sunnes swift course Through thicke and thin doth staâ—lesse run perforce Ierusalem O faire Ierusalem Figure of Heau'n built on celestiall soyle Yet wast beheau'nd through blessed Bethelem Shall yet her heau'ns blisse in thee suffer foyle O be thou not ingrate but dash to dust With thine owne downfall thine owne folke vniust Thinke now thou seest the sonnes of Babylon Infernall furies furiously present Meekenesse it selfe this harmelesse holy One To Annas high Priest low hels President Where he with armes and hands meeke lambe stands bound To heare what sense of hearing might confound Here Truth it selfe with Falshood fowle is charged To which for making mild and iust replies A cursed Fist on his blest face discharged A furious buffer that enflam'd his eies Ah see thy God how he doth reeling stand With blood-shot eine by force of hellish hand O damned hand fell engine of reproach How dar'st thou strike that awfull sacred face Before whose dread aspect the Heauens crouch Before whose Maiesties most glorious grace The Seraphins with reuerend feare doe quake And all th' infernal Legions trembling shake What franticke fit what rage did thee incense What fiend what desperat furie made thee dare To offer him that barb'rous violence That is of God the liuely Character Why didst not dread lest his high hand of powre Vpon thy pate would suddaine vengeance powre Saw'st thou not Iustice sitting in his Front As well as Mercie in his eies to sit Did both at once thy cruell eies afront And yet thy heart and hand not staid by it Did Deitie in his face make a stand Yet That not make thee Diuell hold thy hand Then is it cleere thy Hand is none of thine Much lesse thy Heart that did thy Hand direct But it is Hels and wrought Hels damn'd designe Or els that Grace that Face might well protect Nere durst the Diuell tempt him with such force Then though the Fiend be selfe ill thou art worse Canst thou O tell me tell me canst thou Man With th'eie of Thought behold this drierie sight With dried eies Those eies that whilome ran With blood for thee wilt not one drop require Why should the Sunne and Moone the Heau'ns bright eies Then looke on thee but as thine enemies Now thinke O thinke thou see'st O sauage sight His foes inhumane hale him thence in haste Along the streetes with clamour rage and spight To Caiphas house where he was so disgrac't As neuer Man much lesse a God could be Yet neuer God more good to man than he Bound as before he stands in whom we rest Afront the face of that pernitious Priest Who with the Scribes and Elders there are prest In their reproachfull slaunders to persist Meane while meeke Soule though he from guilt be cleare Yet stands he mute as though he guiltie were See the coniuring proud remorcelesse Priest Rend in fell rage too like a furious fiend The pompous vestures of this Pithonist When Christ doth vrg'd aright his cause defend Whereat the rest in depth of scorne and hate His diuine Truth with taunts doe deprauate And to expresse the rancor of their spight They blindfold him and make his face as t' were A Drumme to call his Foes against him to fight For still a tab'ring on his face they are So fast their fists doe fall as Drum-sticks while The Drumme doth sound Alarum to the broyle But that which doth all credit farre exceed But that all credit to this Truth is due They in his louely Face O loathsome deed Doe spitting spall or rather spalling spue O Heau'ns can ye endure to see your King More vilely vs'd than Toad or vilest thing O wonder farre surmounting wonderments O more than most profound humilitie Doe they fiends varnish with fowle excrements That Face whose grace the Heau'ns doth glorifie And he endure it what should we endure When he most pure for vs was made s'impure Men if they spit doe choose the fowlest place VVhere to bestow their eie-offending fleame Is no place fowler than his heau'nly face To cast that filth that reaketh hellish steame O dongue O dust O heire of rottennesse VVilt ere be proud seeing such humblenesse God silent is whiles Diu'ls doe spit on him The heau'ns are whist whiles hell reuiles their Lord The measure of abuse vp to the brimme These hellish furies fill in deed and word VVhat could Gods
desire Those glitt'ring Sunnes his bright transpiercing eies On Peters eies as on two Fountaines shine By whose attractiue vertue Dropsarise Then downe distill in showres of Angels wine Who with heau'ns hoast therefore their tongues imploy To praise their God in hymnes starke drunke with ioy VVho cannot loue to thinke on loue so high That loues in Mercie Iustice Obiects hate Yea loues a Man that doth that loue defie VVho cannot die for such loue liues too late Let neuer Adams sonnes through Eaues offence To God and Nature vse such violence This hellish Night beeing ended then suppose This heau'nly Day-starreled to Plutos court Pilats I would say but respect of woes He there endur'd made true and false report Yet did this Comet cleare make Pilate pause Ere doom'd him as contagious by the lawes In the diuine sweet features of his face That might an heart of steele relent with ruth Pilate no doubt beheld a world of grace And well perceiu'd his Innocence and Truth Yet must he die doe Pilate what he can And for his Iudge that Monster is the Man To doome to death Rights wrongers is but right Although we wrongfully doe deeme them so That 's wronging Right as Men that haue no sight In that which righteous God alone doth kno But when the Conscience cries the doome is wrong The tongue pronounceth Hell confound that Tongue Dismist by Pilate see thy most iust Iudge From this Iudge most vniust led to a King Much more vniust loe how Hee 's forc'd to trudge Through thicke and thin harke how their clamors ring About his Eares and see the people flocke To see whereat to wonder gaze and mocke To Herod come that long had long'd to see him See now as if some Iuggler he had bin That would shew tricks to all men that would fee him How he prouokes Him some trick to begin But for He silent stands and thwarts his mind He holds Him but a Foole and foole vnkind Oye great Princes little doe ye know What wrong you doe vnto your high estate Tinsult through pompous pride on States below And thinke all Fooles not frolickt with like Fate Ye are no Gods and therefore know ye not Whom ye abuse and what may be your Lot This Foole wise foole holds Him full wise a foole And on the Mantle must that fooles doth fit He learn'd his wisdome in grosse Follies schoole But Wisdome on her Throne in Christ doth sit One seem'd not was the other was not seem'd Yet seem'd a God indeed though Man was deem'd He man was deem'd indeed that stird vp strife And crost the course the way ward world still runnes Life was accus'd with deadly sinne in life God was a Diuell deem'd by Sathans sonnes A Diuell deem'd or Man that had a Diuell But such a Man is worse or full as euill But Wrong that wrencheth eu'ry right awry And doth her selfe her selfe oft contradict That Supposition now doth flat denie And for a foole hee 's tane and nam'd and nickt Had he a Diuell bin or they as wise As Diuels be more smooth had bin their lies Here Wisdome that baptizeth with his Sp'rit All godly wise is baptiz'd for a foole Their angers glowing heat with this despight They thinke in red-hot raging hate to coole If his loue lik'd the foole that fooles detest For vs poore fooles he lik'd that he lou'd least Olet yea let weake Humane-wisdome vaile Her Peacoks plumes and make swift wing from Fame By this Example let her courage quaile And haue no heart to hurt her Honors shame If he whom Angels praise and Heau'ns adore Endure such shame let Earth seeke fame no more He was accus'd of what not so 't were euill Glutton Wine-bibber loath'd Samaritan Dam'd sinners coapesmate one that had a diuell Soule-slaying Schismaticke nor God nor Man But Hatreds Hydra bred in Stygian Poole And to conclude all clos'd all with the Foole. O had I Art to satisfie Desire That would with Words throwe downe Mans pride to hell That would past Heauen if it could aspire And makes the Bulke with ranke ambition swell I would vpon this Ground set such a Straine As should surmount the reach of Voyce or Braine Meekenesse looke on thy selfe and blush for shame To see thy selfe thy selfe surpassed so Humilitie low low stoop thy high fame Thou art surmounted farre farre God doth kno Thou boundlesse flood of Vertues confluence Thy bounds in him haue endlesse residence Looke Glorie on thy Lord thy God behold Inuested with Contempts derided coat Yet see what constant Grace his face doth hold O earth fraile earth thy Props strong patience note And neuer lift thy selfe thy selfe aboue To loue thy selfe vnlesse this Lord to loue See see how he in midst of all Extreames The proper Place where Vertue is confi'nd Though mad Misrule his name with shame blasphemes Yet his rare patience passeth humane kind Which well be wraies this Man is more than man That loues for hate and blâ—st when Spight did ban How mute was he among so many lies Lowd lies God wot braid out by his Accusers How still meeke Lambe among so many cries Offowle mouth'd hounds his hunters and abusers In few he show'd so many Guifts of Grace That men might cleerely see God in his face God in his face for mong the sonnes of men Was not a fairer or Forme more diuine The Paragon of Beauâ—ie was he then Which in his sacred shape did brightly shine For Beautie was constraind her selfe t' excell When shee him made faire without Parralell Yet could not so great grace Grace great as God Infus'd in all his parts protect this Man From the most roguish Whip and slauish Rod But he must brooke them both doe what he can And yet he did what none but God could doe Which he they sed did like a diuell too But what will not Spight say to worke her spight Against what Good soere that thwarts her will Shee 'l call the brightest Day the darkest Night And God a Diuell Good the cause of Ill For if her Conscience once be cauteriz'd Shee is a very Fiend and worse aduiz'd For Rage is mad and cares not what shee doth And Spight enraged cares lesse what shee saies Then what 's to be expected from them both But Words and Deeds that God and Man dispraise Though God raignes ouer All by Natures right Yet is He subiect to Mans hate and spight The Heauens Sou'raigne is thus subiect made To Hels damn'd vassals vilest villanie Yet Faith and Reason discreet Soules persuade That Hell is subiect to Heau'ns Deitie Then by this short account which yet is right Hell is not halfe so bad as Hate and Spight Yet though they befarre worse than what is worst They onely fill the Iewes hard hollow hearts From whose aboundance their tongues most accurst Doe speake and so are mou'd their other parts If Hate and Spight be curst Hearts onely mouers They must be Murders spightfull-hatefull louers These spights thus past
for Griefe to descant on And each mishap our hopes doe make infirme Though It we meete not with Suspition To force our friendship on a mortall foe Makes Folly triumph in our ouerthro But Loue that hath in Feares and Hopes no measure The more It longs her Obiect to possesse The more it doubts thereof the dire displeasure And beeing disseis'd thereof doth hope the lsse But O! this Loue is humane not diuine For Faith will not let Feare true loue decline Christ to thy longing-loue is as the Riuer Vnto the chased Hart which still he seekes And as Men thirstie mind but moysture euer So loue doth thinke on nought but what it likes If That Bee not It seekes no more to Bee But Beeing It would Be That bond or free Loue cannot liue without her Obiect long Sith shee then longing liues a dying life Who weenes her Right then to her offers wrong As doth the Husband that forsakes his Wife For in our deeds which Reason might reproue We scape vnshent if they were done in loue While loue doth lacke the oyle that makes it flame It is all Eare or Eie to heare or see Who can bewraie or where abides the same That there she may in loy or Sorrow be And listens vnto Newes with longing-heed In hope thereby to find her longingsmeed If It be good shee hopes it 's without peere If bad it be shee feares it 's worse than ill But be it good or bad shee it must heare Although the ioy or sorrow her may kill Desire doth neuer rest till that be had Which like to that Desire is good or bad Clothe him with Diamonds that quakes for cold Or cramme his purse with crownes that 's hunger-pin'd That for a freeze Gowne giue his Iewels would This all his Crownes for Crusts of coursest kin'd As each supplie supplies not each defect So nought contents Desire but his Elect. They that haue most are held most rich to be And they that haue their wish held most to haue Then as in Him is all that 's wisht of thee So Hee 's the Summe of all that thou canst craue It is the greatest gaine that can be made To get eternall good for goods that fade But rest these Thoughts which Thee of rest depriue In Paradise where he thou know'st do the est For there he said the Theefe should with him liue That day that he of life was dispossest Then when the life of Loue is dead to Griefe And liues to Ioy Ioy is dead Loues reliefe Hee for vs captiu'd our captiuitie And what is that but death the due of Sinne Which now he triumphs ore in victorie That we might still reioyce not grieue therein When Griefe is slaine it is a wrong to Ioy Our Powres in Sorrowes seruice to imploy Yet greater cause of griefe Griefe cannot giue But greater cause of ioy Ioy cannot yeeld Griefe Ioy resists and Ioy with Griefe doth striue Thus twixt these two still doubtfull is the field But Ioy at last as true Griefe doth presage Shall Victor be and no more Battell wage For this is He who though thus skarrified Tormented slaughtred and thus vilipended That is indeed the first Man deified Whom Men-of-God as-God to Men commended To Him the Prophets gaue this Testimonie That He should Liue as Man to die for Many His Skinne the Whips his Flesh Thornes made vnsound The Nailes his Nerues the cruell Speare his Heart Sharp Woes his Soule Gods wrath his Mind did wound So wounded was in all and eu'ry Part Thus his Soules-Soule was sacrifiz'd for Sinne That so our Soules might their lost glory winne His hand of Pow'r at first did figulate The Belsire of Mans most vnconstant kind And shall those Hands that Hand did figurate This Hand-almightie by their frailtie bind No no alas the Scepter 's in that Hand That doth both Heau'n and Hell of right command Hee like the glorious rare Arabian Bird Will soone result from his incinderment Which flaming Loue and Charitie had fir'd Of sole selfe-pow'r and owne arbitrement And though his Toyles be Silke-worme like his Tombe Yet shall his actiue Sp'rite his Flesh vntombe Diuinely then with Triumph Caesared He shall reblesse Thee with ten Thousand Blisses Whereby thy Soule shall aie be rauished With many millions of sweet Comforts kisses Whose Sweetes shall be so super-naturall That they perforce thy Cares shall cordial Then cheere thee sacred Virgin mourne no more The worst is past the best is now to come Thy blessed Wombe his blessed Body bore To die accurst for which He blest thy Wombe The Curse we caus'd for which He Death indures Then mourne no more but let the Griefe be Ours Fraile-Fleshes signiorizing Tyrant fell Vsurping Monarchie in her Effects Stearne Hydra-headed SINNE with Death and Hell He by his Death to free our Flesh subiects Then let Lifes Death that Lifes Death doth reliue Kill thy quicke woes and thy dead ioyes reuiue Serene thy Woe-adumbred Front sweet Saint Let Ioy transluce thy Beauties blandishment Thy Sonne feeles not for Death is Sence restraint Yet sees though dead thy liuing languishment Which well he wots though it of Loue proceed Auailes Him not nor mends His Killers Creed Thou know'st thy charge thy Master thee impos'd Sacred Euangelist His Soules deere Loue To thee her Sonne as to her Sonne dispos'd O then discharge thy charge for her behoue And like a Sonne yeeld her sad Heart reliefe With words that flow from fellow-feeling griefe Come come O Ioseph Nichodemus come Make haste post haste to take his Body downe He yet craues pitty though He yet be dumbe Yet by your ruth your loue may yet be showne Though feare of Men did make ye God forsake Yet God sith ye are Men will mercie take You did none other than his Minions did Whom of base Groomes his Grace did Minnionize Yet in his Troubles all their Heads they hid And left him for their Sinnes a Sacrifize Yet sith his Armes are spread them to embrace Ye may be sure Hee 'l take you too to grace Then sith in loue ye haue obtained leaue To take him downe that humbled so was raised Then downe retake him and withall beleeue He shall in Heau'n remounted aid be praised Vp with your Scala-Coeli to the Tree To take downe Heau'n for Heau'n of Heau'ns is Hee NOw Soule suppose thou see'st these worthy Men Laden with Linnen and with costly Gumbes Vnto the blessed-cursed Crosse to ren T'interre his Corps which DEATH now ouercomes Where beeing arriu'd the Ladders vp they reare To take Him downe with care surmounting Care See how the Infant Church whose feeble force Hath scarse the strength to lift vp Hand to Head Vnites her powers to take downe his Corse That is aliue and yet is perfect dead See with what fearefull care the Nailes they draw As if his Flesh yet felt or them He saw What prouidence they vse with Linnen large Crossing his dead Corps that to Death was Crost That so