Pietatis Lachrymae TEARES of deuotion Temporis praeteriti fructus est compunctio futuri flos est deuotio Bernard LONDON Printed by Edward Allde and are to be sold at the long shop vnder S. Mildreds Church in the Poultrey 1602. To the Right worshipfull learned and vertuous Sir Thomas Kitson Knight earthes good heere and Heauens blisse heereafter THere was a world but now that world is not When Vertue was within mens hearts inroulde But now that world is almost cleane forgot For vildest things doe mens affections holde There was a time but now more griefe t is not When men though mortall seemed halfe deuine There was a golden age that age forgot When men in charity not wealth did shine There was a time when men relieu'd the poore But he 's now counted wise that keepes his owne There was a time when men did heauen implore But now who thinkes of heau'n is scarcely knowne There was a tim◠when most men liu'd in God And mens perfections all on high were placed But now in Mammon most men haue aboad Earth is prefer'd fore heau'n and Saints disgraced But in that soule who heauen doth onely minde Deuinest wisdome will for euer dwell Jf such a soule in thee she cannot finde Where such a soule to finde J cannot tell For nothing can thy soule from comfort seuer In him that bought thee deare and lou'd thee euer Your Worships euer most humbly deuoted William Euans To the Right worshipfull and no lesse vertuous Lady the Lady Elizabeth Kitson wife to Sir Thomas Kitson Knight Earthes prosperity and Caelestiall happines EXpound Tabithai and t is Dorcas name And Dorcas is a Roe-bucke sharpe of eye In this respect Tabithai wonne her fame That from the earth her soule did pierce the skie By faithes pure worke true graces quallity Her mortall life wonne immortality Is there none like Tabithai God forbid Yes some there are but of those some too fewe Many make shew but doe not as she did But giue me leaue to giue your deeds their due Many haue faith no workes their faith is vaine Your workes approoue Tabithai liues againe From the admirer of your vertues William Euans In Authorem INspired soules breath but the thoughts of blisse Whose humble hearts in heauē are onely placed and while the worldlings run their course amisse In Graces eyes are gratious spirits graced So may I say of that which heere I see Drawne from the fountaine of a heauenly spring Where those best humours alwaies nourisht be That make the soule of heau'nly comforts sing Continue therefore this good course of thine And God will blesse and his blessed loue thee And such as know what comforts are deuine Will smile at them that blindely wil reprooue thee And for my selfe I finde thy labours such I cannot loue nor praise thy worke too much Nich. Breton Gent. In eundem WIth some fantasticke foolish braine or other Causles thy weeping lines may be disgraced While wisdomes wit their folly doth discouer And thou thereby in better thoughts be placed Thy lynes no Panimne toyes thy Text deuine Exhales such darkning clouds that Sun may shine Goe on to weepe and weeping laugh at those That doe the pangs of thy sicke soule despise While thou dost weeping win they laughing lose The crowne that is ordain'd for thy sad eyes While I goe sit me downe and musing wonder To see thy heart for sinne nigh torne asunder Sweet is the Musicke that thy passion sings A high-fetcht note surpassing Ela's straine Suckt from the waters of those Hesbon springs That rise and flow to neuer ebbe againe Who wold not taught by thee do his endeuour Learne so to weepe that he may liue for euer Phil. Holland Gent. An Introduction A Way vaine youth that studies nought but praise The soules Inchauntrix and the woe to man When sharpest theame in weeping Oadases Is all too little wretch doe what thou can For to manure the odour of thy sinne That thou from mercies seate mayst mercy win Deuote thy wits to loue and venery Base subiect fit to adde sinne vnto sinne Be-witch mens soules with beauties fopperie By Venus forged-Goddesse praise to winne Onely let me for my sinnes feate a rod Learne how to liue and not offend my God Illuminating God faire milke-white Doue The soules best teacher Tutor vnto blisse AffliCtions comfort Ghost of eternall loue Cleane Guest that loues to Inne where no sinne is License my soule to weepe with those true eyes That heauens implore and all the world despise A passion of an afflicted soule NO sooner had the Sunne all shewed his face Measuring the welkin by a furlongs space But that I sat free from his scorching beame Vnder an Oake fast by a siluer streame Not long I sat but soone I heard one crye Distilling shewers of teares from his sad eye And with those teares that did from him proceede Came sighes true partners in each woe need And with those sighs came words to heare a wōder which thought-torne-hart had almost broke asunder Neerer I stept but yet I stood aside to see the end and what might him betide When soone me thought I might this man behold Placing his armes a crosse with an infolde Casting his lookes to heau'n sometimes to earth When offring speech feare stopt his vitall breath Yet truce he tooke with feare heart-grieued man and with a mournefull voice these words began Peter denyed his Christ for feare of daunger And swore being askt he was to him a stranger O false forsworne vilde-wretch that knew him wel Who lou'd him more then any tongue can tell Yet he his fault no sooner gan to see But he repented and from sinne was free Saule did torment the seruants of the high Clad all in armes to worke their Tragedy And martyr'd Steuen that high sweet Sa. in heau'n Was by his meanes of his deare life be-reauen Of this great sin he likewise was forgiuen Whome we Canonize Saint as blessed Steuen Dauid did heap one sinne vpon another That so the first the last might better smother Murder blacke murder and adultery The least brings man to hels foule misery He also was of this vilde fault forgiuen And now with God enioyes a place in heauen These all did sinne but yet were free'd from feare But my sinne 's greater then I well can beare Christ came a Sauiour that we all might liue Yet my sinnes such as would he would forgiue Yea sinne doth cause me to be so forlorne As makes me wish I neuer had bin born O grieued soule why dost thou sighing crie Why spring such flouds from thy immortall eye Art thou surcharg'd with sinne plunged in woe Thy teares say yea though silence tell me no. Oh out alas that I might once be free Where thou O God might haue no power to see If I climbe vp to heauen oh thou art there And at thy right hand sits my Sauiour deere Whose saluing woūds my soule so much neglected That force perforce
saies his wounds makes sinners free His bloud the key that lets them enter in O then my God make this world hell to me That I in heau'n may see all this with thee Christes Crowne is sharpe THe cruel thornes with w c our Lord was crowned Were sorely sharpe that shed his sacred blood A gratious loue in glorious life renowned To hurt it selfe to doe his seruants good But while those points did pricke his sacred head Sinne death and Sathan all were deadly wounded O blessed Christ that so my comforts bred As by thy death both death and hell confounded Blest were the drops of so deuine a nature As shed by sinners were the death of sin And blessed Christ that so didst blesse thy creature As by thy death didst his best life begin Yet let me weepe to see his head so bleeding That is my heart and spirits onely feeding Doloris finis gaudium MY heauy soule haue patience with thy selfe The tydes wil turne the ebbe may haule a flow A Ship sometime may run vpon the shelfe And yet be saued from her ouer-throw Say that thy griefes doe gripe thee euery houre While that thy life is neere the point to dye And weakned nature hardly hath the power To beare the burthen of thy miserie Yet doe thou know thy sinfull soule deserueth Farre greater death if Iustice doe thee right And know withall that mercie still preserueth A Sunney blessing for the faithfull sight Where thou shalt finde that all the worlds annoy Is farre vnworthy of the smallest ioy Benedictus deus in eternum SOme wicked spirit thought my heart accurst Because it saw how I was woe begon me Sorrow and death and hell did seeke their worst With all their forces all to fall vpon me Sorrow did locke my heart with many a sob And brought my life vnto the doore of death And when death saw how my poore hart did throb He shew'd the horrour of the hell beneath But when my God did in his mercie see My soule besiedged thus on euery side With one faire looke he made their forces flye Nor death nor hell nor sorrow durst abide But left my soule in such a blessed case By mercies liuing loue to be relieued That I must sing in glory of his grace That helpt my soule when it was so agreeued The sinful soules sob SOrrow and Sinne to my heart are no wonder Since sinne and sorrow rent my heart asunder My soule in sinne hath long time had aboad While sorrow wept that I offended God My Sinne I must confesse is much more great Then is the sorrow of my grieued heart Yet sorrow willes me humbly to intreate For mercie to asswage my wofull smart Therefore to thee that canst throw downe to hell And after fetch into the Heau'n of blisse To thee in whome sweet mercy still doth dwell In whom all comfort was shall be and is To thee a wretched soule nigh drown'd in sinne With sorrow weepes that he may mercy win Laqueus contritus est SInne and dispaire both at a banquet met And in their feasting that they might haue ioy My yeelding soule in hast from me they fet And made it drunke and drown'd it in annoy But tasting of sinnes cheare I wot full well Dispaire that neuer wisht the soule but harme Had well nigh brought my life to that same hell Where sins more thick theÌ„ Bees in summer swarme Which when I did perceiue all woe begon me With bleeding heart I looked vp on high And God in mercy so did looke vpon me And to my griefe such medicine did apply That bâ—ing heal'd of my dispayring sinne I might by faith his gratious fauour winne Par nulla figura dolori IF I were set to seeke out sorrows muses And all at once were come to waite vpon me With all the griefe that greatest sorrow vses To shew the world how I am woe begon me If all the world had brought their woes together And all set downe in their extreamest kinde And all the kinds had brought their crosses hether To shew the death of a tormented minde If all the figures that the Poets faine Should in their nature truely be expressed And euery sorrow in a sun drie vaine Could shew the horror of a heart distressed If these and more then euer yet were knowne To crucifie a poore vnhappie creature In pleasures spirit wholy ouerthrowne Could shew the pride of sorrow in her nature I thinke they all would fall out short in fine To sound but where the depth of my distresse And leaue this heart and wofull soule of mine Vnto the comfort of the comfortlesse But since I see God onely knowes my griefe Which is too great for any man to gesse And in his mercie liues my soules reliefe And he alone can giue my heart redresse I will beseech his Maiestie deuine In mercies height the hope of happines For to receiue this humble soule of mine And bring my heart out of this heauines Non est Deus sicut noster AT Christes Ascention heau'ns-vast wombe did wonder whilst Angels harts did bleed cleaue a sunder Immortal passions so did wound and paine them That all amort they sit and thus complaine them O thou bright morning star thou glories glory Make vs partakers of a wofull story By thee we know sin death hell confounded But cannot shew how wisdom came thus wouÌ„ded Then gan the spirit of that be-slaughtered lambe To tell how by those wounds his goodnes came Amid the Center of an earthly Cell Accompanied with friends I long did dwell At length they wound bring me to my end And he that most did hurt was most my friend Life of all liues they kil'd and put to paine My harme their good sowre sweet my losse their gaine O fountaine of all mercy mercies wonder What heart can heare this and not burst asunder T was I woe's me therefore that caus'd thine end Whom thou in mercie dost accompt a friend Within the closure of some obscure Cell My soule be-murdering-Lord till death shal dwel There shall it weeping sit and read this story Till heau'n assume it for to see thy glorie A passion LEt me goe seeke some for-lorne place Where nothing liues but sorrows loue Where I may sit and waile my case Vnto the blessed heau'ns aboue For to the world to tell my woes It were a breath but spent in vaine A labour that my soule might lose Or with a sigh returne againe For all the thoughts of pitties eye On earth are buried long agoe And all the waies of miserie Are to dispaire or dye in woe For vertue she that heauenlie Queene That onelie keeps the soule a crowne Whose faith hath in her fauours been Though heere by fortune beaten downe Euen she is forc'd to keepe her seate Among the Angels blessed armes Because she sees the world intreate Her seruants with such wicked harmes And since I doe so plainlie see That in the world there is no place For vetue pitty not for me Nor any in my heauie case Let me goe seeke some sorrie Caue With sorrowes loue to sit alone And like a Ghoast within the graue Vnto the heau'ns to make my mone For in the heau'ns I know he is Who hath subdu'd the power of hell And in that heauenly hand of his Doth my assured comfort dwell Where Vertue Mercy Loue and I Shall liue together in such ioy As though vnto the world I dye My soule shall thinke of no annoy His farewell to the world VAine world adew since vaine is thy best pleasure Thy selfe a toy In better things then thine consistes my treasure In heau'n's my ioy A ioy that doth detest Such pleasing goods As sorrow brings the heart in flowing floods Thy baites are sweet at first yet sower in end From heau'n they part A Bee which hath a sting that doth offend And wound the heart A Friend that sees a life all woe begon it And wisheth ten times more to fall vpon it Thy best things are in fine a world of woe A sincke of ill A garden where bad weedes are set to grow The soule to kill Thy Paradice a dungeon layle or hell Where light in darke for euermore doth dwell Thy glorie hath no Sun-shine but a mist To blinde the eye And therefore let them loue thee they that list So will not I. I seeke a glorie that is all aboue Sweet Iesu I seeke thee my truest loue When most thou smilest then thou most dost frowne And seek'st to kill Thou dost aduance to honour then pull'st downe Such is thy will Sing in the sweetest key thou canst deuise While I with wisdomes wit stop eares and eyes FINIS
I needs must be reiected And by those dooming words thou breath'st in ire Be headlong cast into eternall fire Heau'n gates are shut sweet mercy there in none Then to blacke foggie hell I le get me gone That kingdome 's priuiledg'd perhaps and free From sight of him who all things else doth see Oh! but my fearefull conscience willes me know As God rules heau'n aboue so hell below And sayes those gates stand ope to let soules in Fit place of torture for their grieuous sinne And as the heauens so doth he hell retaine Death dooming-torture neuer-dying paine Why then be gone poore soule poast hence away For heere thou maist not nay thou dar'st not stay Oh! that I had Auroraes wings to flye Beyond those Seas where farther parts doe lye Or to some country which no eye hath seene Where neuer creature hath bin bred or beene But t is in vaine for thy farre-reaching hand Can quickly pull me from that vnknowne land Be dimme oh brighest Sunne toarch-man to day Let thy moyst oyle decrease thy light decay Faire Luna let not thy bright beames be spide For peraduenture darknes may me hide Oh saies my conscience trust not to blacke night For with thy God darknes is as the light Wel I could wish that some huge high-topt mountaine Or els some vast-known bottomles deep fouÌ„taine Would take my life from his all-seeing eye Whose onely name makes me dispayring dye But all in vaine for if I there woud be No rockes nor flouds can hide my sin from thee Where ere I would be thou O God art there And though not seene yet I thy voyce doe heart That voice that to my sinfull Grandsire came Inforceth me to say Lord heere I am Heer 's Adams sinfull Of-spring knowne by name First man created and the first of shame Heere is a sinfull wretch a Demie Deuill Proane vnto nothing but to that is euill Vnthrifty in goodnes Marchant in vile sinne Exchanging better wares more worse to win Earths excrement alas of all men hatefull vnkinde vnto my selfe to God vngratefull From these ill wishes I must needs refraine Since all my wishes are both fond and vaine Or what I wish for if I could obtaine Those things I wish for would soone prooue my paine What ere I wish for or doe most desire The things I wish prooue ministers of yre The things obscurest thou O Lord canst see No place from thy world-seeing-eye is free The secretst parts that in my body lye They all lye ope to thy all-seeing eye Thou likwise brought me froÌ„ my mothers wombe And thou shalt Iudge me at thy fearefull doombe The Prince of darknes doth likewise accord Bids me dispaire in my death-dying Lord Caytiffe saith he looke not to heau'n for grace Since heau'n and earth see thy sin-couered face Earth looks at heau'n heau'n at the earth doth wonder That earth vp-holding sin rents not a sunder Tels me that wealth was my hearts chiefest treasure Sayes that in pride I tooke my sweetest pleasure Enuy and malice doing neighbour wrong All these I doe confesse I lou'd too long Murder blacke murder and fowle leachery Were coupled Actors in this tragedy He further saies that God shall prooue vntrue If he forgiue to whome reuenge is due That God's not God except he doe prooue iust That he reuenge for sinne needs render must T is true t is true ô whether shall I run Would God my life were now but new begun Now wold I sowe wheÌ„ Autumne yeelds ripe corne Now well nigh dead now doe I wish new borne Long haue I liu'd out-liuing manie men passing the age of foure-score yeeres and ten And now the Deuill for to adde more paine Saies my huge sin calles but for grace in vaine Dâ—ueâ— let not the sluces of thine eyes Make thy teares passage vnto Paradise Intreate not Abram send vs Lazarus No for if that heau'nling come among vs Hee 'le but delate of that I feare to know Hell Death Destruction Deuils Torture Woe Thus might I see this poor wretch plung'd in woe Almost receiuing foule sinnes ouerthrow And now his Sea of teares moist drops past number Lull him sad pensiue in a heauie slumber Not long he slept but griefe owle-scriching cries Beate pathes for passage through his ceaseles eyes Now combates his good Genus with the Deuill Mauger the bad the good expels the euill Sathan did tempt him much sore did shake him Yet the good spirit would not so forsake him Though flesh be fraile now he defyeth sinne And with fresh teares doth thus his passion gin O Ship-wrackt soule drencht in a Sea of teares Laden with Euils and full fraught with feares Let bitter flouds fall from thy restles eies Make heauens to pitty thy hearts wofull cries Neuer ô neuer cease heau'n to implore Till peace of conscience heau'ns to thee restore Swim O my soule breake through the flouds of sin See if with Pâ—eter thou the Shore canst win And at thy landing rest thou shalt imbrace A golden wreath the Lambe the Childe of grace And heauenly Quiers for to welcome thee Shall sound the musicke of heauens melody Thinke no worke great enough this blisse to gaine Great is the ioy that comes of this thy paine Trouble like wings must hurle thee vp and downe Before thou mayst receiue th' Imperiall crowne Thou vnto dayes weekes to months yeares Must owe the hourely rent of stintlesse teares Apprentice-like binde thou thy yeares to care The heart thy shop Gods sacred word thy ware Gooâ— thoâ—ghts thy Chapmen and good works thy gaine Thy cheâ— the poor thy reioycing paine Daies passe in plaints thy nights without repose Awake to weepe and sleep in wakinge woes Let Wisdome be thy head Compunction Mother Thy friends the Angels the Lambe thy Brother Take for thy soules sweet Spouse deaths memory Thy kinsfolkes sighes thy children Lachrymae This right-hand path leades not thy soule amisse But eftsoone brings thee to the bower of blisse Consider further ô my soule quoth he Sinners beside my selfe there many be Many haue stain'd the honour of their place And yet in heau'ns bright eye not lost their grace And though I sin in liues booke I am noted Since now to my deare God I am deuoted Moreouer by his death it doth appeare How great the loue is that my God doth beare To me sinnes Monster and most worthy blame The badge of ignomy and Map of shame Th' abuser of rich Time a lumpe of ill Too slowe in good too bad too swift in will What meaning hath his head declin'd but this To giue my sinfull soule a gratious kisse His heart 's all open for to let me see A heart that hath such loue none hath but he His hands are stretched out for to imbrace me That he in Angels blisse may after place me Yea all his pretious corpes alas are wounded That though I sin sin death hell confounded His bodies life fell-death doth also seuer Yet he