little sweete hath many fowres Short hap immortall harmes Her louing lookes are murdring dartes Her songs bewitching charmes Like winter rose and sommer I se Her ioyes are still vntimely Before her hope behind remorse Faire first in fine vnseemely Moodes passions fancies iealous fits Attend vpon her traine She yeeldeth rest without repose A heau'n in hellish paine Her house is slouth her doore deceite And slipperie hope her staires Vnbashfull boldnesse bids her guests And euery vice repaires Her diet is of such delight As please till they be past But then the poyson kils the hart That did entise the tast Her sleepe in sinne doth end in wrath Remorse rings her awake Death cals her vp shame driues her out Dispaires her vp-shot make Plowe not the Seas sowe not the sands Leaue off your idle paine Seeke other mistres for your minds Loues seruice is in vaine Life is but losse BY force I liue in will I wish to dye In plaint I passe the length of lingring dayes Free would my soule from mortall body flye And tread the tracke of deaths desired wayes Life is but losse where death is deemed gaine And loathed pleasures breede displeasing paine VVho would not dye to kill all murdering greeues Or who would liue in neuer dying feares VVho would not wish his treasure safe from theeues And quit his hart from pangues his eyes from teares Death parteth but two euer fighting foes VVhose ciuill strife doth worke our endlesse woes Life is a wandring course to doubtfull rest As oft a cursed ryse to damning leape As happie race to winne a heauenly crest None being sure what finall fruites to reape And who can like in such a life to dwell VVhose wayes are straite to heau'n but wyde to hell Come cruell death why lingrest thou so long VVhat doth withhold thy dint from fatall stroke Now prest I am alas thou doest me wrong To let me liue more anger to prouoke Thy right is had when thou hast stopt my breath VVhy should'st thou stay to worke my double death If Saules attempt in falling on his blade As lawfull were as ethe to put in vre If Sampsons leaue a common law were made Of Abels lot if all that would were sure Then cruell death thou should'st the tyrant play VVith none but such as wished for delay VVhere life is lou'd thou ready art to kill And to abridge with sodaine pangues their ioy VVhere life is loath'd thou wilt not worke their will But dost adiourne their death to their annoy To some thou art a fierce vnbidden guest But those that craue thy helpe thou helpest least Auant ô viper I thy spight defie There is a God that ouer-rules thy force VVho can thy weapons to his will apply And shorten or prolong our brittle course I on his mercie not thy might relye To him I liue for him I hope to dye I dye aliue O Life what lets thee from a quicke decease O death what drawes thee from a present pray My feast is done my soule would beat ease My grace is said ô death come take away I liue but such a life as euer dies I die but such a death as neuer ends My death to end my dying life denies And life my liuing death no whit amends Thus still I dye yet still I do reuiue My liuing death by dying life is fed Grace more then nature keepes my hart aliue VVhose idle hopes and vaine desires are dead Not where I breath but where I loue I liue Not where I loue but where I am I dye The life I wish must future glory giue The deathes I feele in present dangers lye What ioy to line I wage no warre yet peace I none enioy I hope I feare I fry in freezing cold I mount in mirth still prostrate in annoy I all the world embrace yet nothing hold All wealth is want where chiefest wishes faile Yea life is loath'd where loue may not preuaile For that I loue I long but that I lack That others loue I loath and that I haue All worldly fraights to me are deadly wrack Men present hap I future hopes doe craue They louing where they liue long life require To liue where best I loue death I desire Heere loue is lent for loane of filthy gaine Most friends befriend thēselues with friendships shew Heere plentie perril want doth breed disdaine Cares common are ioyes faulty short few Here honour enuide meanenes is dispis'd Sinne deemed solace vertue little pris'd Heere beauty is a baite that swallowed choakes A treasure sought still to the owners harmes A light that eyes to murdring sighs prouokes A grace that soules enchant with mortall charmes A luring ayme to Cupids fiery flights A balefull blisse that damnes where it delights O who would liue so many deaths to try VVhere will doth wish that wisedome doth reproue VVhere nature craues that grace must needs denie VVhere sence doth like that reason cannot loue VVhere best in shew in finall proofe is worst VVhere pleasures vpshot is to die accurst Lifes death loues life WHo liues in loue loues least to liue And long delayes doth rue If him he loue by whom he liues To whom all loue is due VVho for our loue did choose to liue And was content to die VVho lou'd our loue more then his life And loue with life did buy Let vs in life yea with our life Requite his liuing loue For best we liue when least we liue If loue our life remoue VVhere loue is hote life hatefull is Their grounds doe not agree Loue where it loues life where it liues Desireth most to be And sith loue is not where it liues Nor liueth where it loues Loue hateth life that holdes it backe And death it best approues For seldome is he wonne in life VVhom loue doth most desire If wonne by loue yet not inioyde Till mortall life expire Life out of earth hath not aboad In earth loue hath no place Loue setled hath her ioyes in heau'n In earth life all her grace Mourne therefore no true louers death Life onely him annoyes And when he taketh leaue of life Then loue beginnes his ioyes At home in Heauen FAire soule how long shall veyles thy graces shroud How long shall this exile with-hold thy right VVhen will thy sunne disperse this mortall cloud And giue thy glories scope to blaze their light O that a Starre more fit for Angels eyes Should pyne in earth not shyne aboue the skyes Thy ghostly beautie offred force to God It cheyn'd him in the linkes of tender loue It woon his will with man to make abode It stai'd his Sword and did his wrath remoue It made the rigor of his iustice yeeld And Crowned mercie Empresse of the feeld This lull'd our heauenly Sampson fast a sleepe And laid him in our feeble natures lap This made him vnder mortall load to creep And in our flesh his god-head to enwrap This made him soiourne with vs in exile And not disdayne our tytles in his
teach VVhose textes to faithfull harts neede little glosing VVitnesse vnworthy I who in a looke Learn'd more by rote then all the scribes by booke Tough malice still possest theyr hardned minds I though too hard learn'd softnes in thine eye VVhich yron knots of stubborne will vnbinds Offring them loue that loue with loue will buy Thys did I learne yet they could not discerne it But woe that I had now such neede to learne it O Sunnes all but your selues in light excelling VVhose presence day whose absence causeth night VVhose neighbour course brings Sommer colde expelling VVhose distant periods freeze away delight Ah that I lost your bright and fostring beames To plunge my soule in these congealed streames O gracious spheres where loue the Center is A natiue place for our selfe-loaden soules The compasse loue a cope that none can mis The motion loue that round about vs rowles O Spheres of loue whose Center cope and motion Is loue of vs loue that inuites deuotion O little worlds the summes of all the best VVhere glory heauen God sonne all vertues stars VVhere fire a loue that next to heauen doth rest Ayre light of life that no distemper marres The water grace whose seas whose springes whose showers Cloth natures earth with euerlasting flowers VVhat mixtures these sweet elements do yeeld Let happy worldlings of those worlds expound But simples are by compounds farre exceld Both sute a place where all best things abound And if a banisht wretch gesse not amisse All but one compound frame of perfect blisse I out-cast from these worlds exiled rome Poore Saint from heauen from fire cold Salamander Lost fish from those sweet waters kindly home From land of life stray'd pilgrim still I wander I know the cause these worlds had neuer hell In which my faults haue best deseru'd to dwell O Bethelem cesterns Dauids most desire From which my sinnes like fierce Philistims keepe To fetch your drops what champions should I hire That I therein my withered heart may steepe I would not shed them like that holy king His were but tipes these are the figured thing O turtle twins all bath'd in virgins milke Vpon the margin of full flowing bankes VVhose gracefull plume surmounts the finest silke VVhose sight enamoreth heauens most happie rankes Could I forsweare this heauenly paire of doues That cag'd in care for me were groning loues Twice Moses wand did strike the stubborne rocke Ere stony veynes would yeeld their christall blood Thy eyes one looke seru'd as an onely knocke To make my hart gush out a weeping flood VVherein my sinnes as fishes spawne their frye To shew their inward shames and then to dye But ô how long demurre I on his eyes VVhose looke did pearce my hart with healing wound Launcing impostumd sore of periurd lyes VVhich these two issues of mine eyes hath found VVhere runne it must till death the issues stop And penall life hath purgd the finall drop Like solest Swan that swimmes in silent deepe And neuer sings but obsequies of death Sigh out thy plaints and sole in secret weepe In suing pardon spend thy periurd breath Attire thy soule in sorrowes mourning weede And at thine eyes let guiltie conscience bleede Still in the limbecke of thy dolefull breast These bitter fruits that from thy sinnes do grow For fuel selfe accusing thoughts be best Vse feare as fire the coales let pennance blow And seeke none other quintescence but teares That eyes may shed what entred at thine eares Come sorrowing teares the of spring of my griefe Scant not your parent of a needefull aide In you I rest the hope of wish'd reliefe By you my sinnefull debts must be defraide Your power preuailes your sacrifice is gratefull By loue obtayning life to men most hatefull Come good effects of ill deseruing cause Ill gotten impes yet vertuously brought forth Selfe-blaming probates of infringed lawes Yet blamed faults redeeming with your worth The signes of shame in you each eye may read Yet while you guiltie proue you pittie plead O beames of mercy beate on sorrowes clowde Poure suppling showres vpon my parched ground Bring forth the fruite to your due seruice vowde Let good desires with like deserts be crownd VVater young bloming vertues tender flower Sinne did all grace of riper groth deuower VVeepe Balme and mirrhe you sweet Arabian trees VVith purest gummes perfume and pearle your ryne Shed on your hony drops you busie bees I barraine plaint must weepe vnpleasant bryne Hornets I hyue salt drops their labour plyes Suckt out of sinne and shed by showring eyes If Dauid night by night did bath his bed Esteeming longest dayes to short too mone Inconsolable teares if Anna shed VVho in her sonne her solace had forgone Then I to dayes and weekes to months and yeares Do owe the hourely rent of stintlesse teares If loue if losse if fault if spotted fame If daunger death if wrath or wrecke of weale Entitle eyes true heires to earned blame That due remorse in such euents conceale Then want of teares might well enroll my name As chiefest Saint in Calender of shame Loue where I lou'd was due and best deseru'd No loue could ayme at more loue-worthy marke No loue more lou'd then mine of him I seru'd Large vse he gaue a flame for euery spark This loue I lost this losse a life must rue Yea life is short to pay the ruth is due I lost all that I had and had the most The most that will can wish or wit deuise I least performd that did most vainely boast I staind my fame in most infamous wise VVhat daunger then death wrath or wreck can moue More pregnant cause of teares then this I proue If Adam sought a veyle to scarfe his sinne Taught by his fall to feare a scourging hand If men shall wish that hils should wrap them in VVhen crymes in finall doome come to be scand VVhat mount what caue what center can conceale My monstrous fact which euen the birds reueale Come shame the liuery of offending minde The ougly shroud that ouershadoweth blame The mulct at which foule faults are iustly fynde The dampe of sinne the common sluce of fame By which impostum'd tongues their humors purge Light shame on me I best deseru'd the scourge Caines murdering hand imbrude in brothers blood More mercy then my impious toung may craue He kild a riuall with pretence of good In hope Gods doubled loue alone to haue But feare so spoild my vanquisht thoughts of loue That periurde oathes my spightfull hate did proue Poore Agar from her phere enforc'd to flye VVandring in Barsabeian wildes alone Doubting her child throgh helples drought would dye Laide it aloofe and set her downe to moane The heauens with praiers her lap with teares she fild A mothers loue in losse is hardly stild But Agar now bequeath thy teares to me Feares not effects did set aflote thine eyes But wretch I feele more then was feard of thee
shop of shame trade sorrowes ware Pleasd with displeasing lot I seeke no change I wealthiest am when richest in remorce To fetch my ware no seas nor lands I range For customers to buy I nothing force My home-bred goods at home are bought and sold And still in me the interest I hold My comfort now is comfortlesse to liue In Orphan state deuoted to mishap Rent from the roote that sweetest fruit did giue I scorn'd to graffe in stocke of meaner sap No iuice can ioy me but of Iesse flower VVhose heauenly roote hath true reuiuing power At sorrowes dore I knockt they crau'd my name I aunswered one vnworthy to be knowne VVhat one say they one worthiest of blame But who a wretch not Gods nor yet his owne A man O no a beast much worse what creature A rocke how cald the rocke of scandale Peter From whence from Caiphas house ah dwell you there Sinnes farme I rented there but now would leaue it VVhat rent my soule what gaine vnrest and feare Deere purchase Ah too deere will you receiue it VVhat shall we giue fit teares and times to plaine me Come in say they thus griefes did entertaine me VVith them I rest true prisoner to theyr Iayle Chain'd in the yron linkes of basest thrall Tyll grace vouchsafing captiue soule to bayle In wonted See degraded loues enstall Dayes passe in plaints the nights without repose I wake to weepe I sleepe in waking woes Sleepe deaths allye obliuion of teares Silence of passions balme of angry sore Suspence of loues securitie of feares VVrathes lenitiue harts ease stormes calmest shore Sences and soules repriuall from all cumbers Benumming sence of ill with quiet slumbers Not such my sleepe but whisperer of dreames Creating strange chymeraes fayning frights Of day discourses giuing fansie theames To make dumme shewes with worlds of antick sights Casting true griefes in fansies forging mold Brokenly telling tales rightly fore-told This sleepe most fitly suteth sorrowes bed Sorrow the smart of euill Sinnes eldest child Best when vnkind in killing who it bred A racke for guiltie thoughts a bit for wild The scourge that whips the salue that cures offence Sorrow my bed and home while life hath sence Heere solitary Muses nurse my griefes In silent lonenesse burying worldly noyse Attentiue to rebukes deafe to reliefes Pensiue to foster cares carelesse of ioyes Ruing lifes losse vnder deathes dreary roofes Solemnizing my funerall behoofes A selfe contempt the shroud my soule the corse The beere an humble hope the herse cloth feare The mourners thoughts in blacks of deepe remorse The herse grace pittie loue and mercy beare My teares my dole the priest a zealous will Pennance the tombe and dolefull sighes the knill Christ health of feuer'd soule heauen of the mind Force of the feeble nurse of Infant loues Guide to the wandring foote light of the blind VVhom weeping winnes repentant sorrow moues Father in care mother in tender hart Reuiue and saue me slaine with finnefull dart If king Manasses sunke in depth of sinne VVith plaints and teares recouered grace and crowne A worthlesse worme some milde regard may winne And lowly creepe where flying threw it downe A poore desire I haue to mend my ill I should I would I dare not say I will I dare not say I will but wish I may My pride is checkt high wordes the speaker spilt My good ô Lord thy gift thy strength my stay Giue what thou bidst and then bid what thou wilt VVorke with me what thou of me do'st request Then will I dare the most and vow the best Prone looke crost armes bent knee and contrite hart Deepe sighes thicke sobs dew'd eyes prostrate praiers Most humbly beg release of earned smart And sauing shroud in mercies sweete repaires If iustice should my wrongs with rigor wage Feares would dispaires ruth breed a hopelesse rage Lazar at pitties gate I vlcered lye Crauing the reffues crummes of childrens plate My sores I lay in view to mercies eye My rags beare witnesse of my poore estate The wormes of conscience that within me swarme Proue that my plaints are lesse then is my harme VVith mildnesse Iesu measure my offence Let true remorse thy due reuenge abate Let teares appease when trespasse doth incense Let pittie temper thy deserued hate Let grace forgiue let loue forget my fall VVith feare I craue with hope I humbly call Redeeme my lapse with raunsome of thy loue Trauerse th'inditement rigors doome suspend Let frailtie fauour sorrowes succour moue Be thou thy selfe though changling I offend Tender my sute clense this defiled denne Cancell my debts sweet Iesu say Amen The end of Saint Peters complaint MARY MAGDALENS BLVSH THE signes of shame that staine my blushing face Rise from the feeling of my rauing fits VVhose ioy annoy whose guerdon is disgrace VVhose solace flyes whose sorrow neuer flits Bad seede I sow'd worse fruite is now my gaine Soone dying mirth begat long liuing paine Now pleasure ebbes reuenge beginnes to flow One day doth wreake the wrath that many wrought Remorse doth tcach my guiltie thoughts to know How cheape I sould that Christ so deerely bought Faults long vnfelt doth conscience now bewray VVhich cares must cure and teares must wash away All ghostly dynts that grace at me did dart Like stubborne rocke I forced to recoyle To other flights an ayme I made my hart whose wounds then wel-come now haue wrought my foyle VVoe worth the bow woe worth the archers might That draue such arrowes to the marke so right To pull them out to leaue them in is death One to this world one to the world to come VVounds may I weare and draw a doubtfull breath But then my wounds will worke a dreadfull dome And for a world whose pleasures passe away I lose a world whose ioyes are past decay O sence ô soule ô had ô hoped blisse You wooe you weane you draw you driue me back Your crosse encountring like their combate is That neuer end but with some deadly wrack VVhen sence doth winne the soule doth loose the field And present haps make future hopes to yeeld O heauen lament sence robbeth thee of Saints Lament ô soules sence spoyleth you of grace Yet sence doth scarse deserue these hard complaints Loue is the thiefe sence but the entring place Yet graunt I must sence is not free from sinne For theefe he is that theefe admitteth in ¶ Marie Magdalens complaynt at Christes death SIth my life from life is parted Death come take thy portion VVho suruiues when life is murdred Liues by meere extortion All that liue and not in God Couch their life in deaths abod Seely starres must needes leaue shining VVhen the sunne is shaddowed Borrowed streames refraine their running VVhen head springs are hindered One that liues by others breath Dieth also by his death O true life since thou hast left me Mortall life is tedious Death it is to liue without thee Death of all most odious Turne againe or take me to
thee Let me dye or liue thou in mee VVhere the truth once was and is not Shaddowes are but vanitie Shewing want that helpe they cannot Signes not salues of miserie Paynted meate no hunger feedes Dying life each death exceedes VVith my loue my life was nestled In the somme of happinesse From my loue my life is wrested To a world of heauinesse O let loue my life remoue Sith I liue not where I loue O my soule what did vnloose thee From thy sweete captiuitie God not I did still possesse thee His not mine thy libertie O two happie thrall thou wart VVhen thy prison was his hart Spightfull speare that break'st this prison Seate of all felicitie VVorking this with double treason Loues and liues deliuerie Though my life thou drau'st away Maugre thee my loue shall stay Times goe by turnes THE lopped tree in time may grow againe Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower The soriest wight may finde release of paine The dryest soyle sucke in some moystning shower Times goe by turnes and chaunces chaunge by course From foule to faire from better happe to worse The sea of fortune doth not euer flowe She drawes her fauours to the lowest ebbe Her tydes hath equall times to come and goe Her Loome doth weaue the fine and coursest webbe No ioy so great but runneth to an end No hap so hard but may in fine amend Not alwaies fall of leafe nor euer spring No endles night yet not eternall day The saddest birds a season find to sing The roughest storme a calme may soone alay Thus with succeeding turnes God tempereth all That man may hope to rise yet feare to fall A chaunce may winne that by mischaunce was lost The net that holdes no great takes little fish In some things all in all things none are crost Fewe all they neede but none haue all they wish Vnmedled ioyes here to no man befall VVho least hath some who most hath neuer all Looke home REtyred thoughts enioy their owne delights As beautie doth in selfe beholding eye Mans mind a mirrour is of heauenlie sights A briefe wherein all meruailes summed lye Of fayrest formes and sweetest shapes the store Most gracefull all yet thought may grace them more The mind a creature is yet can create To natures patterns adding higher skill Of finest works wit better could the state If force of wit had equall power of will Deuise of man in working hath no end VVhat thought can think an other thought can mend Mans soule of endlesse beauties image is Drawne by the worke of endles skill and might This skilfull might gaue many sparkes of blisse And to discerne this blisse a natiue light To frame Gods image as his worthes requird His might his skill his word and will conspird All that he had his image should present All that it should present he could afford To that he could afford his will was bent His will was followed with performing word Let this suffize by this conceiue the rest He should he could he would he did the best Fortunes falshood IN worldly meriments lurketh much miserie Slie fortunes subtilties in baites of happinesse Shrowd hookes that swallowed without recouerie Murder the innocent with mortall heauinesse She sootheth appetites with pleasing vanities Till they be conquered with cloaked tyrannie Than changing countenance with open enmities She triumphes ouer them scorning their slauerie VVith fawning flatterie deaths doore she openeth Alluring passengers to bloodie destenie In offers bountifull in proofe shee beggereth Mens ruines registring her false felicitie Her hopes are fastened in blisse that vanisheth Her smart inherited with sure possession Constant in crueltie shee neuer altereth But from one violence to more oppression To those that follow her fauours are measured As easie premises to hard conclusions VVith bitter corrosiues her ioyes are seasoned Her highest benefits are but illusions Her wayes a laborinth of wandring passages Fooles common pilgrimage to cursed deieties VVhose fond deuotion and idle menages Are wagde with wearinesse in fruitlesse drudgeries Blind in her fauorites foolish election Chaunce is her arbiter in giuing dignities Her choyse of visions shewes most discretion Sith welth the vertuous might wrest from pietie To humble suppliants tyrant most obstinate She suters aunswereth with contrarieties Proud with petition vntaught to mitigate Rigour with clemencie in hardest cruelties Like Tygre fugitiue from the ambitious Like weeping Crodocile to scornefull enemies Suing for amitie where shee is odious But to her followers forswearing curtesies No wind so changeable no sea so wauering As giddie Fortune in reeling varieties Now mad now mercifull now fierce now fauoring In all things mutable but mutabilities Scorne not the least WHere wards are weake foes encountring strong VVhere mightier doe assault then doe defend The feebler part puts vp enforced wrong And silent sees that speech could not amend Yet higher powers must thinke though they repine VVhen sunne is set the little starres will shine VVhile Pike doth range the silly Tench doth flie And crouch in priuie creekes with smaller fish Yet Pikes are caught when little fish goe bie These fleet a flote while those doe fill the dish There is a time euen for the wormes to creepe And sucke the dew while all their foes doe sleepe The Marlyne cannot euer sore on high Nor greedy Grey-hound still pursue the chase The tender Larke will finde a time to flie And fearefull Hare to runne a quiet race He that high growth on Ceders did bestow Gaue also lowly Mush-rumpts leaue to grow In Amans pompe poore Mardocheus wept Yet God did turne his fate vpon his foe The Lazar pinde while Diues feast was kept Yet he to heauen to hell did Diues goe VVe trample grasse and prize the flowers of May Yet grasse is greene when flowers doe fade away The Natiuitie of Christ. BEholde the father is his daughters sonne The bird that built the nest is hatch'd therein The olde of yeares an houre hath not out-runne Eternall life to liue doth now beginne The word is dumme the mirth of heauen doth weepe Might feeble is and force doth faintly creepe O dying soules behold your liuing spring O dazeled eyes behold your sonne of grace Dull eares attend what word this word doth bring Vp heauie hartes with ioye your ioye embrace From death from darke from deafenesse from dispaires This life this light this word this ioye repaires Gift better then him selfe God doth not know Gift better then his God no man can see This gift doth here the giuer giuen bestow Gift to this gift let each receiuer bee God is my gift himselfe he freely gaue me Gods gift am I and none but God shall haue me Man altered was by sinne from man to beast Beastes foode is haye haye is all mortall flesh Now God is flesh and lies in Manger prest As haye the brutest sinner to refresh O happie fielde wherein this fodder grew VVhose tast doth vs from beasts to men renew ¶ Christs childhood TIll twelue yeres