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
take Nor Priests nor People meanes he now to blame But answers Folly for true Wisdomes sake Beeing charged deeply by his powrefull name To tell if Christ the Sonne of God he be Who for our sinnes must die to set vs free To thee O Caiphas doth he answere giue That thou hast said what thou desir'st to know And yet thy malice will not let him liue So much thou art vnto thy selfe a foe He speaketh truth but thou wilt not beleeue Nor canst thou apprehend it to be so Though he expresse his Glory vnto thee Thy Owly eies are blind and cannot see Thou rend'st thy cloathes in stead of thy false heart And on the guiltlesse lai'st thy guilty crime For thou blasphem'st and he must feele the smart To sentence death thou think'st it now high time No witnesse now thou need'st for this fowle part Thou to the height of wickednesse canst clime And giue occasion to the ruder sort To make afflictions sorrows follies sport Now when the dawne of day gins to appeare And all your wicked counsels haue an end To end his Life that holds you all so deere For to that purpose did your studies bend Proud Pontius Pilate must the matter heare To your vntroths his eares he now must lend Sweet Iesus bound to him you led away Of his most pretious blood to make yout pray Which when that wicked Caytife did perceiue By whose lewd meanes he came to this distresse He brought the price of blood he did receiue Thinking thereby to make his fault seeme lesse And with these Priests and Elders did it leaue Confest his fault wherein he did transgresse But when he saw Repentance vnrespected He hang'd himselfe of God and Man reiected By this Example what can be expected From wicked Man which on the Earth doth liue But faithlesse dealing feare of God neglected Who for their priuate gaine cares not to sell The Innocent Blood of Gods most deere elected As did that caytife wretch now damn'd in Hell If in Christs Schoole he tooke so great a fall What will they doe that come not there at all Now Pontius Pilate is to judge the Cause Of faultlesse Iesus who before him stands Who neither hath offended Prince nor Lawes Although he now be brought in woefull bands O noble Gouernour make thou yet a pause Doe not in innocent blood imbrue thy hands But heare the words of thy most worthy wife Who sends to thee to beg her Sauiours life Let barb'rous crueltie farre depart from thee And in true Iustice take afflictions part Open thine eies that thou the truth mai'st see Doe not the thing that goes against thy heart Condemne not him that must thy Sauiour be But view his holy Life his good desert Let not vs Women glory in Mens fall Who had power giuen to ouer-rule vs all Eues Apologie ¶ Till now your indiscretion sets vs free And makes our former fault much lesse appeare Our Mother Eue who tasted of the Tree Giuing to Adam what shee held most deare Was simply good and had no powre to see The after-comming harine did not appeare The subtile Serpent that our Sex betraide Before our fall so sure a plot had laide That vndiscerning Ignorance perceau'd No guile or craft that was by him intended For had she knowne of what we were bereau'd To his request she had not condiscended But she poore soule by cunning was deceau'd No hurt therein her harmelesse Heart intended For she alleadg'd Gods word which he denies That they should die but euen as Gods be wise But surely Adam can not be excusde Her fault though great yet hee was most too blame What Weaknesse offerd Strength might haue refusde Being Lord of all the greater was his shame Although the Serpents craft had her abusde Gods holy word ought all his actions frame For he was Lord and King of all the earth Before poore Eue had either life or breath Who being fram'd by Gods eternall hand The perfect'st man that ever breath'd on earth And from Gods mouth receiu'd that strait command The breach whereof he knew was present death Yea hauing powre to rule both Sea and Land Yet with one Apple wonne to loose that breath Which God had breathed in his beauteous face Bringing vs all in danger and disgrace And then to lay the fault on Patience backe That we poore women must endure it all We know right well he did discretion lacke Beeing not perswaded thereunto at all If Eue did erre it was for knowledge sake The fruit beeing faire perswaded him to fall No subtill Serpents falshood did betray him If he would eate it who had powre to stay him Not Eue whose fault was onely too much loue Which made her giue this present to her Deare That what shee tasted he likewise might proue Whereby his knowledge might become more cleare He neuer sought her weakenesse to reproue With those sharpe words which he of God did heare Yet Men will boast of Knowledge which he tooke From Eues faire hand as from a learned Booke If any Euill did in her remaine Beeing made of him he was the ground of all If one of many Worlds could lay a staine Vpon our Sexe and worke so great a fall To wretched Man by Satans subtill traine What will so fowle a fault amongst you all Her weakenesse did the Serpents words obay But you in malice Gods deare Sonne betray Whom if vniustly you condemne to die Her sinne was small to what you doe commit All mortall finnes that doe for vengeance crie Are not to be compared vnto it If many worlds would altogether trie By all their sinnes the wrath of God to get This sinne of yours surmounts them all as farre As doth the Sunne another little starre Then let vs haue our Libertie againe And challendge to your selues no Sou'raigntie You came not in the world without our paine Make that a barre against your crueltie Your fault beeing greater why should you disdaine Our beeing your equals free from tyranny If one weake woman simply did offend This sinne of yours hath no excuse nor end To which poore soules we neuer gaue consent Witnesse thy wife O Pilate speakes for all Who did but dreame and yet a message sent That thou should'st haue nothing to doe at all With that just man which if thy heart relent Why wilt thou be a reprobate with Saul To seeke the death of him that is so good For thy soules health to shed his dearest blood Yea so thou mai'st these sinful people please Thou art content against all truth and right To seale this act that may procure thine ease With blood and wrong with tyrannie and might The multitude thou seekest to appease By base deiection of this heauenly Light Demanding which of these that thou should'st loose Whether the Thiefe or Christ King of the Iewes Base Barrabas the Thiefe they all desire And thou more base than he perform'st their will Yet when thy thoughts backe to themseluesretire Thou art vnwilling
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