Marie Magdalens lamentations for the losse of her master Iesus

MARIE MAGDALENS LAMENTATIONS FOR THE LOSSE OF HER MASTER IESVS .

Disce mori mundo vivere disce Deo .

LONDON , Printed by Adam Islip for Edward White , and are to be sold at his shop , dwelling at the little North dore of Paules , at the signe of the Gun . 1601.

Yea soule confounding sinne so far hath crept , Repentant sighes are reckoned for toies , And Maries teares contemned , long have slept , As jems unpriz'd , which corrupt age destroies : Save that her Lord , because they still should last , In surest caske hath them invessel'd fast . For wretched soules let loose to libertie , So wanton like are weaned to each wrong , So licensed to worke impietie , And free to fleshly wils have liv'd so long : That those fresh springs , whence penitent tears should flow , Presumption hath so stopt , that none will know . And sencelesse hearts , obdurat to all good , Have so perverted their perfixed end , That now ( O greefe ) their sighs and dearest bloud , To feed fond fancie they doe vainely spend : But for their sins one teare for to let fall , They have ( alas ) nor eye nor heart at all . Ah could they see what sinne from sence hath shut , How sweet it were to summon deeds misdone , To have their lives in equall ballance put , To waigh each worke ere that the judge doe come : Ah then their teares would trickle like the raine , And their eye-flouds would helpe to fill the maine . They would with Marie send forth bitter cries , To get the ioies of their soule-saving love , They would gush forth fresh fountaines from their eies , To win his favour , and his mercie prove : Eyes , hart , and tongue , should poure , breath out , & send , Teares , sighs , and plaints , untill their love they find . No idle houres ill spent in fond delight , No teares distil'd for momentarie losses , No sighs for missing absent lovers sight , No care contriv'd of common worldly crosses , Should then be us'd ; but all consum'd in this , To beg amendment and bewaile their misse . Yea all too little to an humble soule ( That inly sees her ill misgovern'd life ) Would it appeare , to spend whole yeares in dole , Yea many ages to declare her strife Would passe as minuts , wishing time would stand , While she with feare her endlesse faults had scand . But farre from this lives sinners ( too secure ) Who giving bridle to their selfe-desires , Cannot alas one scanted houre indure In sacred service , but their mind aspires In following pleasures height , whose froward will In doing good , doth make them carelesse still . Which seene with pitie on our gracelesse minds , This blessed sinner , whose so precious teares , Once bath'd his feet , that heaven and earth in binds , And made a towell of her trayling haires , To wipe the drops , which for her sins were shed , Now deignes to tell how our soules should be fed . And Marie shewes to maids and matrones both , How they should weepe and decke their rose-like cheekes With showers of greefe , whereto hard hearts are loth , And who it is her matchlesse mourning seekes : And when we ought to send our reeking sighs , To thicke the passage of the purest lights . And Marie showes us when we ought to beat Our brasen breasts , and let our robes be rent , How prostrating , to creepe unto the seat Of that sweet lambe , whose bloud for us was spent : And that we should give way unto our woes , When the excesse no fault or errour showes . If you will deigne with favour to peruse Maries memoriall of her sad lament , Exciting Collin in his graver Muse , To tell the manner of her hearts repent : My gaine is great , my guerdon granted is , Let Maries plaints plead pardon for amisse .

Marie Magdalens first Lamentation At the Tombe of Iesus . WHat climat will affourd a mournfull mate , All wo-begon , that vollies out hir grones , Whose griefs do equallize my sad-grown state , Whose heart poures forth a sea of helpelesse mones ? If to my care , companion such there be , I le helpe her mourne , if she will mourne with me . But sure , no such associat there is , My Muse may tell a greefe without compare , A blacke rehearse of metamorphos'd blis , And sad memoriall of untimely care , Lugubre Carmen fitteth best my use , In waining state best fits a wailing Muse. The deepest passion of true burning love That ever any love-sicke heart possest , ( Drown'd in distresse ) I silly woman prove , Whose ardent zeale is nurse of mine vnrest , But even to death ( O haplesse death ) alone I ru'd his death when other friends were gone . I did behold my loves too cruell death , With these sad eyes , made red with brinish teares : My soule did sorrow for his losse of breath , By whose sweet life , my life was free from feares . Oh had I dy'd , when he dy'd on the crosse , I needed no complaint to waile my losse . But that ( too sweet a favour ) was deny'de , I might not I , consort my lover dying , My course of life doth sorrow still betyde , Which moves my soule to such a ceaselesse crying : Oh haplesse soule , so clog'd with care and greefe , For losse of him that was thy comfort cheefe . My Lord is dead , to whom my soule did live , He dy'd for me , I wretch am left alive , Now to the dead I lasting praise must give , Sith light is lost , which did my life revive , And all in darkenesse I desire to dwell , In deaths dread shade my saddest griefes to tell . My Iesus Tombe my mansion is become , My wearie soule hath there made choise to inn , Vpon his coarse my comfort shall consume , And ioies shall end where ioies did first begin . Oh eies gush forth your fast distilling force Of Ocean tears , upon his Tombe and corse . Oh life-containing Tombe of my dead Lord , From thee no chaunce shall hale me hence away , I le linger here while death doth life affourd , And being dead , my twining armes shall stay , And cleave unto thee ; nor alive or dead Will I be drawne from where my Lord is laid . Thou art the Altar of all mercie meeke , The Temple of all truth , the Grave of death , The Sanctuarie which lost soules doe seeke , The Cradle of eternall living breath . Oh sweetest heaven of my ecclipsed Sonne , Receive this silly star , whose light is done . Oh Whale , that my deare Ionas swallowed hast , Come swallow me ( more meet to be thy prey ) T was I , not he , that should in right have past This bloodie tempest ; I was cause I say , Vnequall doomer , what hast thou misdone , To rob the earth of her coelestiall Sonne . Oh Cesterne of my Ios●ph innocent , Let thy drie bottome take me prisoner , Sith I , not he ( Oh wretch most impudent ) Gave cause that so enrag'd my brethren were . What pitch clouds darken our translucent way , And on what shore doth Truths sweet preacher stay ? Aye me accurst , why did I not before Thinke upon this , which now I aske too late ? Why did I leave him when I had him sure ? To rue his losse , and mone my ruthlesse state . Oh had I watched , as I waile him now , None could have taken him without me too . But being too precise to keepe the Law , The lawes sweet maker I have thereby lost , And bearing to his ceremonies too much awe , I misse his sweetest selfe , of far more cost , Sith rather with the Truth I should have beene , Than working that , which but a Tipe was seene . The Sabboth day so strickt solemnized , The standing by his Coarse had not prophan'd ; By which , prophanest things are sanctified , And that made pure , which earst was foulely stain'd ; Whose touch doth not defile the thing that 's clean , But most defiled , maketh faire againe . But when I should have staid , I went away , And when it was too late , I came againe , In time of helpe ( Ah then ) my helpe did stay , Now I repent my follie ( but in vaine . ) My carelesse heed hath brought a heape of care , And carefull I , must ceaselesse teares prepare . Ah let my heart into sad sighs dissolve , Let eies consume their flouds in brinish teares , Let soule ( cares captive ) in dislikes resolve , To languish still ( sunke with despaire and feares . ) Let all I have endure deserved paine , That pennance due , sins losses may regaine . But ah my sweetest Iesu ( my deare heart ) Thou art not now , where thou wert but of late ; And yet , alas , I know not where thou art , ( Oh wretched case , oh lamentable state : ) Such haplesse state , unhappie I live in , To better it , I cannot yet begin . Alas my ioy , my hope , my cheefe desire , How hast thou left me wavering thus in doubt ? In mazed moodinesse my thoughts to tire , Wandering in woe , and cannot find way out . If I stay here , I cannot find thee so , To seeke elsewhere , I know not where to goe . To leave the Tombe , is for to gaine vnrest , To stand still helpelesse , is a curelesse paine , So all my comfort in this plot doth rest , Helpelesse to stay , or going , hope in vaine . And to this choise poore soule I am left free , Which is to say , with what death I will die . And yet ( even this ) too happie a choice would be For me , so vile , so base , unhappie wretch : For if to chuse my death it lay in me , How soone should I that execution catch ? How willing would I be to stop lives breath , If I might point the manner of my death ? I would be nailed to the selfesame crosse , With those same nailes , and in the selfesame place , Where bloudie Iewes did butcher up my losse : His speare should wound my hart , his thorns my face , His whips my bodie , I would tast all smart , To tread his steps in an embrued hart . But oh ambitious thoughts , gaze not so hie , Vpon so sweet divine felicitie , Thinke not with such a glorious death to die , Whose life is privie to such infamie : Death I deserv'd , not one , but many a death , But not so sweet a meane to stop my breath . So sweet a death seasoned with such deepe ioy , The instruments whereof , dead corpes would raise , And most impurest soules from sinne destroy , And make it pure , to yeeld thee pure due praise : A scourge too much ( ah where alas ) too small For my offences to be beat withall . And therefore am I left , more deaths to tast Than I live houres , and far more woes to shun Than I have thoughts for my lost ioy to wast , Which are in number more then motes in Sun . Vnhappie me , whose weake estate must beare The violence of such confused care . But sith I cannot as he died , die , Nor yet can live where he now liveth dead , To end my dying life , I here will lie , Fast by his grave , and leane my wearie head Vpon his tombe , on whose most sweet repose I le leave to live , and death my eies shall close . Better it is after his bodies losse , ( His sacred bodie which all creatures ioy'de ) To keepe his sepulchre from farther crosse , Than loosing one , to let both be destroy'de . Though I have lost the Saint of clearest shine , I will at least have care to keepe the shrine . And to this shrine I le sacrifice my heart , Though it be spoiled of the soveraigne host , It shall the altar be and sacred part , Where I my teares will offer with the most , My teares destilled from my hearts deepe paine , Which going out , my sighs shall blow againe . Here in this place ( oh happie place ) I le lead , Yea , lead and end my wofull loathed life , That at the least my cold grave may be made Neare to this tombe , where I have told my griefe . Near this stone-couch , my eies their light shall lose , Which my Lord made the place of sweet repose . It may be so , this Sindon lying here , Thus emptie left and serving to no use , This tombe being open without any there , May pierce some piteous heart for to peruse My naked bones , whose rights for to preferre , This shroud may wrap , & this sweet tomb interre . But oh too fortunat a lot to crave , For her that is a wretch so unfortunate , No , no , I seeke not such a blisse to have , Alas , I dare not beg so good estate : But yet if such a sinne may passe unblam'd , I would forgive by whom it first was fram'd . And if to wish , no more presumption were In me alive , than to permit it dead , If I knew him that first should passe me here , My teares should woo to have my corpes so laid , And with my praiers I that man would hire , To blesse me with this blisse which I desire . And though I dare not wish that anie do it , Yet this without offence to all I say , This Sindon hath my love so ty'de unto it , Above all clothes I love to it will pay . And this same Tombe my heart more deare doth deeme , Than anie Princes Hearse of most esteeme . Yea , and I thinke that coarse is favoured much , That shall my Lord in this same Tombe succeed : And for my part ( as my resolve is such ) Vpon this plot to meet Deaths fatall deed ; So doe I wish , that in the readiest grave , My breathlesse bones the right of buriall have . But this is all , and I dare say no more , My bodie I will leave to what befals , And in this paradise all ioy will store For my poore soule , which flesh and bloud inthrals , Which from this brittle case shall passe even than , Into the glorious Tombe of God and Man .

Marie Magdalens second Lamentation For the losse of the bodie , which shee came to annoint . BVt stay my Muse , I feare my maisters love ( The only portion that my fortune left me ) Would languish in my breast , and chillish prove , Sith warmth to cherish it , was quite bereft me . His words , his presence gone , which fed my flame , And not the ashes left to rake the same . My spice and ointments shall be then prepar'd , To pay last tribute of externall dutie , Though others have thereto devoutly car'd , And brought the best in worth , in worke , in beautie : Yet such desire my dutie doth inherit , That I must yeeld my love my latest merit . My love each quantitie too little deem'd , Vnlesse that mine were added thereunto , Best quantitie too meane and not esteem'd , Except with mine it somewhat have to doe : No diligence ynough for to apply , Vnlesse my service be employed by . Nor doe I thus sharpe censure others deeds , But 'cause love makes me covetous of doing , Though Iosephs worke no reprehension needs , Though to my wish his baulme he was bestowing : Yet all he did cannot my love suffise , But I must actor be to please mine eies . Such is the force of true affecting love , To be as eagre in effects t' appeare , As it is zealous , fervently to move Affections firme , to what it holdeth deare This love devout sets my poore heart on fire , To shew some deed of my most deepe desire . And to embaulme his breathlesse corps I came , As once afore I did annoint his feet , And to preserve the reliques of the same , The only remnant that my blisse did meet : To weepe afresh for him in deapth of dole , That lately wept to him for mine owne soule . But loe alas , I find the grave wide ope , The bodie gone , the emptie Sindon left , The hollow Tombe I every where doe grope , To be assur'd of what I am sure bereft , The labour of embaulming is prevented , But cause of endlesse weeping is augmented . He wanting is unto my obsequies , That was not wanting to my ceaselesse teares , I find a cause to move my miseries , To ease my woe , no wisht for ioy appeares . Thus though I misse , whom to annoint I meant , Yet have I found a matter to lament . I having settled all my sole desires On Christ my love , who all my love possest , In whose rare goodnesse , my affection fires , Whom to enioy , I other ioies supprest , Whose peerelesse worth unmatcht of all that live , Being had ( all ioy ) and lost ( all sorrowes ) give . The life of lives thus murthering in his death , Doth leave behind him , lasting to endure , A generall death to each thing having breath , And his decease our nature hath made pure : Yet am poore I of ornament bereft , And all the world without perfection left . What marvell then if my hearts hot desire , And vehement love to such a lovely Lord , To see lifes wracke , with scalding sighs aspire , And for his bodies losse such woe afford , And feele like tast of sorrow in his misse , As in his presence I enioied blisse . And though my teares , destil'd from moistned eies , Are rather oile than water to my flame , More apt to nourish sorrow in such wise , Than to deminish or abate the same ; Yet silly soule I plung'd in deapth of paine , Doe yeeld my selfe a captive to complaine . Most true it is that Peter came and Iohn , With me unto the Tombe to trie report , They came in hast , and hastily were gone , They ( having searcht ) dare make no more resort , And what gain'd I , two witnesse of my losse , Dismaiers of my hope , cause of more crosse . Love made them come , but love was quickly quail'd , With such a feare as cal'd them soone away , I ( poore I ) hoping , in despaire assail'd , Without all feare persevering still to stay , Because I thought , no cause of feare was left , Sith whom I feard , was from my sight bereft . For I ( poore soule ) have lost my maister deare , To whom my thoughts devoutly were combin'd , The totall of my love my cheefest cheare , The height of hope in whom my glorie shin'd , My finall feare , and therefore him excepted , No other hope , nor love , nor losse respected . Worse feare behind , was death , which I desired And feared not , ( my soules life being gone ) Without which I no other life required , And in which death had been delight alone : And thus ( ah thus ) I live a dying life , Yet neither death nor life can end my strife . Yet now me thinkes t is better die than live , For haply dying , I my love may find , Whom while I live , no hope at all can give , And he not had , to live I have no mind : For nothing in my selfe , but Christ I lov'd , And nothing ioies , my Iesus so remov'd . If any thing alive to keepe me , striv'd , It is his image , cause it should not die With me , whose likenesse love in me contriv'd , And treasured up in sweetest memorie : From which my love by no way can depart , Vnlesse I rip the centre of my heart . Which had been done , but that I feard to burst The worthlesse Trunck which my dear Lord inclosed In which the reliques of lost ioy was trust , And all the remnant of my life imposed : Else greefe had chang'd my hart to bleeding tears , And fatall end had past from pittious ears . Yet pittious I , in so unperfit sort Doe seeme to draw my undesired breath , That true I prove this often-heard report , Love is more strong than life-destroying death : For what more could pale death in me have done , Than in my life , performed plaine is showne . My wits destraught , and all my sence amaz'd , My thoughts let loose and fled I know not where , Of understanding robd , I stand agaz'd , Not able to conceit what I doe heare : That in the end , finding I did not know , And seeing , could not well discerne the show . I am not where I am , but with my love , And where he is , poore soule I cannot tell , Yet from his sight nothing my heart can move , I more in him than in my selfe doe dwell : And missing whom I looke for , with sad seeking , Poor wo-worn woman , at the Tomb stay weeping .

Marie Magdalens third Lamentation In finding the Angels , and missing whom shee sought . BVt hope-beguiling fortune , now to ch●ere My long-sad spirits with a shade of ioy , With Angels presents doth present me here , Granting a moments mirth to increase annoy . For looking him , though for him I find twaine , To thinke on him , redoubleth still my paine . Yet for a time I will revive my soule , With this good hope , which may my hopes exceed , Comfort , sweet comfort shall my cares controule , Releefe may hatch , where greefe did lately breed : I seeke for one , and now have found out twaine , A bodie dead , yet two alive againe . My wofull weeping , all was for a Man , And now my teares have Angels bright obtained : I will suppresse my sigh-swolne sadnesse than , And glad my heart with this good fortune gained : These Heaven attendants to a parle envite me , I le heare what they will say , it may delight me . For I assure my selfe , if that the corse By fraud or mallice had removed bin , The linnen had not found so much remorse , But had been caried too away with him : Nor could the Angels looke so chearefully , But of some happier chance to warrant me . And for to free me from all feares ( even now ) They thus encounter , these their speeches were , And thus they spake , Woman why weepest thou ? As if they bad me weeping to forbeare : For ill it fits a mortall eye should weepe , Where heavenly Angels such reioicing keepe . Erewhile they said , Thou camst with manly courage , Arming thy feet , through greatest thornes to run , Thy bodie to endure all tyrants rage , Thy soule no violent tortures for to shun : And art thou now so much a woman made , Thou canst not bid thine eies from teares be staide . If that thou hadst a true Disciples name , So many certaine proofes would thee persuade , But incredulitie so blots the same , Thou of that title art unworthie made : And therefore woman ( too much woman now ) Tell us ( O woman ) wherefore weepest thou . If there were any coarse here lying by , We then would thinke for it thou shedst thy teares , That sorrow for the dead inforst thee cry : But now this place , a place of ioy appeares , Thou findst no dead , but living to be here , Oh then why weepest thou with mournfull cheare ? What , is our presence so discomfortable , That seeing us , thou art inforst to weepe , Thinkst thou if teares were so availeable , That we our selves from flowing streams could keep Or is thy kindnesse in this course extended , That we with teares should thus be entertained . If they be teares of love to shew good will , As love is knowne , so let them be suppressed ; If teares of wrath , denouncing anger still , To shed them here , thou shouldst not have addressed Here where all anger lately buried was , But none deserv'd , ah none deserv'd alas . If they be teares of sorrow , dead mens duties , ( The dead revived ) they are spent in vaine ; If teares of ioy , destilled from the booties Of happie fortune ( flowers of ioyfull gaine ) It better were that fewer had been spent , And fitter tokens might expresse content . And Angels semblance visible , presents The will invisible of his dread Lord , Whose shapes are shaddowed after the intents And drift of him , that rules him by his word : They brandish swords when God begins to frown , They sheath in scabbards when his wrath is downe . When he would fight , they armed come to field , When he would terrifie , their forme afright , When he would comfort , they their countenan e yeeld To smiling lookes , and signes of sweet delight : Mirth in their eies , and mildnesse in their words , All favour , grace , and comelinesse affourds . Why weepest thou Marie then when we reioice , Thinke not our nature can degenerat Or faile in dutie ( which we hold so choice ) Ours is no changing or sin-working state : Doest thou more love , or more his secrets know , Than we that at his Throne our service show . Oh deeme not Marie , deeme not then amisse Against so plaine apparent evidence , At our request forbeare , and leave of this , Leave weeping Marie , and with teares dispence : Exchange thy sorrow for our offered ioy , Accept sweet comfort , and forsake annoy . No , no , you Saints of glorie ever shining , Persuade not me to harbor ioyfull glee , But thinke to whom my sorrow is enclining , And beare with my poore love-bound miserie : Alas I weepe for this one only losse , For whom all ioy doth but inferre new crosse . For while he liv'd , I made my Paradise In every place , where I his presence found , A speciall blisse was every exercise , Wherein I shewed my service to him bound : Each season wherein I inioyd my king , Did seeme to me a never dying Spring .

Marie Magdalens fourth Lamentation . Marie bewailes the losse of that part which Christ promised her when he said , Marie hath chosen the better part , which shall not be taken from her . IT comforts me to send forth dryrie plaints , To fill the aire with my uncessant cries , To volley forth a sea of sad laments , With liquid teares to moisten still mine eies : Yet neither plaints , nor cries , laments , nor teares , Can serve , can ease , can salve , can shew my feares . For all inioin'd to doe their best availe , To helpe the mourne of my greefe-burthened soule , Persuade me still it is my best to waile , And spend the day in pittie-pleading dole : Sith whom I chose , the comfort of my heart , Is now bereft ( oh care-increasing smart . ) That I did chuse the best and precious part , It is no doubt , sith Christ I only chose , My Lord , the soveraigne of my zealous heart , Whom to possesse , I wish my life to lose : But how I have it now , I cannot say , Sith he that was that part , is tane away . Ah could I still have kept him with me here , I would not thus have lost him from my sight , No , I would not have parted from my deare , If to my will I had obtained might : And might I now with teares his presence buy , Rather than lose it , I all chance would trie . Sith then I nothing seeke , but what I chose , And losse of choice is all my combats cause , Either vouchsafe this part I doe not lose , Or I see not how to averre this clause : Or how ( poore wretch ) I now may truly say , I chose best part , which is not ta'ne away . But happily , his heavenly meaning was , That it should not be taken from my heart , Though from mine eies thou suffered it to passe , Thy inward presence should supplie this part : And yet I thinke if thou within me were , I should thee feele ( and felt ) not seeke thee here . Thou art too hote a fire to heat my breast , And not to burne me with thy scorching flame ; Thy glorious light would not leave me to rest In this blind darkenesse , if I had the same : For if thy glorie in me duly shin'd , It would reioice and cheere my dying mind . No , no , if that I had the Virgins boy , My innocent heart ( which never yet hath knowne To counterfeit an outside of hid ioy ) Could not complain and make such greevous mone : Nor should my thoughts feed on a dead mans grave , If they at home so sweet a feast might have . My love would not retaine a thought to spare , Nor have an idle minute for to spend , In any other action for to care , But in the sweet amplecting of my freind : Ah nothing could withdraw my mind from this , To abridge least part in me from such a blisse . My starving thirst for his lost sight is such , The sea of my still flowing ioies againe So able is to let me drinke as much As may suffice to fill my longing paine : That though each part , whole tides of ioy should drinke , Yet all too few my greedie drought would thinke . In true loves hearts each part is made an eie , And every thought prefixed for a looke , Then I so sweet an obiect soone would spie , That mongst so many eyes should darknesse brooke : So cleare a shine , so bright , so cleare a light , Could not be hidden from a lovers sight . Yea doubtlesse had the Lord in me a seat , I would not envie at the fortunes sweet Of mightiest prince ( or empresse ne're so great ) Yea I would more ( if so he thought me meet ) Reioice in earth , to be his Tombe or shrine , Than be in heaven , a Throne or Saints faire shine . But peradventure now t is with my mind , As earst it was with his Apostles eyes , Who on the sea thought they a ghost did find , When there he walked in miraculous wise : And I knowing more his bodies shape than might , Take him but for a fancie in hearts sight . But oh ( s●d soule ) it seemes too strange that he , He whom I seeke , and hee for whom I weepe , Should to my plainings thus estranged be , And leave me to these fits which sorrow keepe : If that in me a cause he did not see , For which he will not yet be seene of mee . For hence it comes that water-wasted eies , Commaund a fresh incessant showers of teares , And drive my breast , which under burthen cries , Vnto a new-made storme of sighes and feares : And last my soule ( oh soule with woe opprest ) Is made a prisoner to my owne unrest . My heart shall never cease to tire my toung , My toung shall never rest to tell my smart , My smart shall cause me still to waile my wrong , My wrong ( bereaving me of my best part : ) So heart , so toung , so smart , shall all accord , To sigh , tell , shew , my greefes for my dead Lord . I silly soule , sith I my mirth have lost , For my part will make much of heartie sorrow , And sith my ioy with such deepe woe is crost , In bitter teares all comfort I will borrow : Which I presume I lawfully may sheed , Fetching my warrant from his latest deed . Alas , what need had my sweet Lord to weepe Vpon the crosse , but for our learnings sake ; Which cannot sure be ill for me to keepe , That he thought good to give , t is good to take : My weeping cannot preiudice my blisse , A world of teares cannot bewaile my misse I still will draw to my distressed mind All sad conceits , all heavie pensive musing , My heart to daily languor I will bind , Where it may pin● in withered ca●e perusing : Taking no comfort for my woes redresse , But in consenting to be comfortlesse . Oh would to God I were as privie made Vnto his blessed bodies sweet remove , To know where that pure vessell now is laid , As he is witting of my faithfull love : Oh thou my Lord and owner of my soule , That knowes my heart , and can conceive my dole . If skies bright Sunne to shew his beames did shame , When light of lights was darkened with disgrace , If heavens their beautie did with louring staine , Suting their colours to their makers case , If Natures frame did ( melting ) shake to see Natures faire Author us'd unnaturally : Why should not I , whose over-burthening smart Hath equall cause to waile his heavie case , Helpe in this ●●d consort to beare a part ? Especially sith in this little space , His bodies losse hath mourners number lessened , And yet the cause of weeping is increased : The Apostles all are fled , his friends afraid , And I alone to weepe for all am staid .

Marie Magdalens fift Lamentation . Maries perseverance at the Tombe , and the apring of Christ in the likenesse of a Gardiner . OH my dear Lord , thy greefe the greatest was That ew●r was in man or manly heart , And my greefe is as great a greefe alas As ever came to woman for her part : For out of thine my love hath carved mee , A part not small , and yet too small for thee . Thy losse my torment hath redoubled , And all sad soules pay me what they did borrow , I beare the greefe , which then too much hath troubled , Yea I am made Vice-gerent of all sorrow : Sorrow , ah sorrow thou O Tombe with me , And thaw to teares you stones that hardest be . The time is come ( now is the very time ) That leave it had and license for to cry , To tell the Pharises their sinfull crime , Now for the Lord , the breach of silence try : Who said , if his disciples held their peace , The very stones would crie for sins increace . Sith then their lips be locked up with feare , And sadnesse makes them mute , and not a word , Oh crie you stones , and no exclaimes forbeare , Crie out against the murtherers of my Lord : The robbers of his sacred coarse bewray , Bring them to light that stole my Lord away . For sure it was some Pharises fell spight Or bloodie Scribe ( not sated with the paine His bodie felt ) but bloud their hearts envite To practise some worse crueltie againe : And now to glut their brutish mind withall , Have stolne his coarse to use unnaturall . Oh rockes and stones , if ever you must crie , Now is high time to poure your loud exclaimes , Now let your clamours to the welkin flie , Sith light is darkened , dead the flame of flames , The worlds great Monarch foulely massacred , The life of lives outrageously misused . Doth not his tongue ( whose truth infallible is ) Whose word omnipotent rules sea and wind , Whom creatures ( most insensible ) doe kisse With aw'd obedience , which his power doth bind : Promise the whole world shall defend the iust , Against those sencelesse soules , which selfe power trust . And who more iust than he , of Iustice king ? Who than his barbarous murtherers , sencelesse more ? Whose innocent bloud could not a staunching bring Vnto their greedie thirst , slaughtered before ; Vnlesse they to this impious act proceed To worke ( his bodie dead ) some hellish deed . Why doe not then all creatures them applie To be revenged in a cause so iust , Vpon the Iewes uncivile tyrannie , Bereft of sence and blinded in mistrust , Their hearts made inhumane , of reason barrain , Void of good feeling both to God and Man ? But sure it cannot be in humane might To steale the bodie of my Lord away , No bloudie theefe , nor any mortall wight Had sufferance to beare so wicked sway : It can not be that any sinfull soule Would undertake a deed of such deepe dole . No , no , he was no bootie for a ●heefe , Nor for a cruell Pharisee a pray , Nor were the Angels slacke to attend him cheefe , As my suspition doth presume to say : If this thing cannot change my mind from feare , Yet looking on the clothes , my doubts may cleare . Would any theefe have so religious beene , To steale the bodie , and the clothes not take ? Would any theefe so venterous have been seene , To stay , so many feare delaies to make , As to unshroud the coarse , order the sheets , And fold the napkins with such seemely pleets ? I know that Mirrhe makes linnen cleave as fast As pitch or glue , well tempered or made ; And could a theefes stolne leasure so long last , As to dissolve the Mirrhe , and ba●e the dead , Breake up the seales , open the Tombe and all ? Where was the watch when these things did befall ? If all this yet cannot persuade my mind , Yet might my owne experience make me see , When at the crosse they stripped him , unkind , I saw his garment would not parted bee From goa●ie backe , but tare his tender skin , Much more if it with Mirrhe had nointed bin . I le looke into the sheet , if there remaine Any one parcell of his mangled flesh , Or any haire pluckt from his heads soft vaine , If none , that shall my wearie woe refresh : I le thinke a better chaunce betides my love , Than my misdeeming feare will let me prove . A guiltie conscience doubteth want of time , And leaud attempts are still dispatcht in hast , Offenders doubt least light make known their crime , And in nights sable weed commit their wast : With dread and horror acting fearefully , And cannot marke when things well ordered be . But to unwrap a bodie mangled so , Out of Mirrhe cloathes , and not the flesh to teare , Leaving them thus so cleanely wip'd in show , It is a thing most marvellous to heare , And most impossible for man to do , Vnlesse they had light , helpe , and time thereto . But oh the great effects of rarest love , If love a languor be , how then live I ? If life , how doe I then such dead fits prove ? If it bereaveth sence , how did I see The Angels then ? if it revive the same , Why did I not know Iesus when he came ? And doe I in such zeale thus seeke for one , Whom when I have found out , I do not know , Or if I know him that of late was gone , Now having him , why doe I seeke him so ? Behold my Christ is come , he whom I sought , Doth talke with me , and I my selfe know nought . Why doe I not then wipe my dazled eies ? Ah hath my Lord in this world liv'd so long , Di'de with such paine , shed shours of tears with cries , Laboured so much , and suffered so much wrong , And hath thereby no more preferment cought , But for to be a silly Gardiner thought ? And hath my kindnesse so much cost bestowed Vpon the ointment which I did prepare , Have I in anguish pin'd and so long sorrowed , Shead all these teares , and had such heedlesse care : And was all done for one , and one no better Than is a silly simple Gardiner ? Alas , and is a silly garden plot The best free-hold that my love can afford , Is this the highest office he hath got , To be a Gardiner now that was my Lord : He better might have liv'd and owned me , Than with his death to have bought so small a fee .

Marie Magdalens sixt Lamentation . Iesus said unto h●r ( Marie : ) she turned and said unto him Rabb●ni . OH loving Lord , thou only didst deferre My consolation to encrease it more , That thy delightfull presence might preferre The better welcome , being wisht so sore , In that thy absence little hope had left . Vnto my heart , so long of blisse bereft . It may be that I knew not former blisse , Till I a time was from the sweetnesse wean'd : Nor what it was such treasures rich to misse , Which in thy presence I of late attain'd ; Vntill my povertie had made it cleere , Of what inestimable rate they were . But now thou shewst me by a proofe most sweet , That though I paid thee with my dearest love , With water of my teares to wash thy feet , With my best breath , which all desire could move : Yet small the price was that I did bestow , Waying the worth , which now thou letst me know . I sought thee dead , pind in a stonie gaile , But find thee living and at libertie : Shrin'd in a shroud , thy visage wan and pale , Left as the modell of all miserie : But now invest in glorious robes I find thee , And as the president of blisse I mind thee . As all this while I sought but could not find , Wept without comfort , cal'd unanswered to : So now thy comming satisfies my mind , Thy triumphs please my teares , which long did wo ; And all my cries are husht with this one word , ( Marie ) cause sweetly spoken from my Lord . For when I heard thee call in wonted sort , And with thy usuall voice , my only Name , Issuing from that thy heavenly mouths report ; So strange an alteration it did frame , As if I had been wholly made anew , Being only nam'd by thee ( whose voice I knew . ) Whereas before my greefe benum'd me so , My bodie seem'd the hearse of my dead hart , My heart ( soules coffin ) kil'd with care and wo , And my whole selfe did seeme in every part A double funerall presented plaine , Of thee and of my selfe together slaine . But now this one word hath my sence restored , Lightned my mind , and quickned my heart , And in my soule a living spirit poured , Yea , with sweet comfort strengthened every part : For well this word a spirit dead may raise , Which only word made Heaven , World , and Seas . Marie I was when sin possest me whole , Marie I am , being now in state of grace , Marie did worke the ill that damn'd her soule , Marie did good in giving ill place : And now I shew both what I was and am , This word alone displaies my ioy and shame . For by his vertues that did speake the same , An Epitome of all his mercies sweet , A Repetition of my miseries came , And all good haps I did together meet : Which so my sences ravished with ioy , I soone forgot my sorrowes and annoy . And thus my heart a troupe of ioies did lead , Mustered in rankes , to mutinie they fell , Conspiring which might worthiest be made , With them my owne unworthies doe rebell : And long in doubtfull issue they contend , Till view of highest blisse the strife did end . He was my Sunne , whose going downe did leave , A dumpish night with fearefull fancies fild , And did each starre of glistering shines bereave , And all the world with mystie horror hill'd : And every planet reigning erst so bright , Were chang'd to dismall signes in this darke night . Yet now the clearenesse of his lovely face , His words authoritie which all obay , This foggie darknesse cleane away doth chace , And brings a calme and bright well tempered day : And doth disperse clouds of melancholie , Awakes my sence , and cures my lethargie . Rapt with his voice , impatient of delay , Out of his mouth his talke I greedily take , And to this first and only word I say , And with one other word this answere make , Rabboni : then my ioy , my speech did choke , I could no more proceed , nor more hear spoke . Love would have spoke , but fear conceal'd the clause , Hope framed words , but doubt their passage staies , When I should speake , I then stood in a pause , My suddaine ioy my inward thoughts quite slaies : My voice doth tremble , and my toung doth falter , My breath doth faile , and all my sences alter . Lastly , in lieu of words , issue my teares , Deepe sighs in stead of sentences are spent , Their mothers want they fill with sighs and feares , And from the heart halfe uttered breath they sent : Which so in passions conflict disagree , To sounds perceiv'd , they cannot sorted be . So fares the heart that s sicke for suddaine ioy , Attaining that for which it long did fire : For even as feare is loves still servile boy , And hope an usher unto hot desire , So love is hard , a firme beleefe in gaining , And credulous coniectures entertaining . And though desire be apt for to admit Of wisht for comfort any smallest shade , The hotter yet it burnes in having it , The more it cares to have it perfit made : And while least hope is wanting which is sought , The best assurances avantage nought . And even as hope doth still the best presume , Inviting ioy to welcome good successe , So feare suspects true blisse can hardly come , And cals up sorrow , making it seeme lesse : With greefe bewailing the uncertainetie Of that which should be sole felicitie . And while as these doe mutually contend , Feare sometime falleth into deepe despaire , Hope rising up , his fierie darts doth send Of wrath , repining to the emptie aire : Making a doubtfull skirmish , dead they stand , Till evidence of proofe the strife have skand . For though ( poore I ) so suddainely repli'de Vpon the notice of his voice well knowne , Yet for because so rare a chaunce I spi'de , His person chaung'd , himselfe unlookt for showne : The sight my thoughts into sedition drew , Then were they purg'd from doubts by stricter view . And then though speeches would have issued faine , And my poore heart to his have dutie sent , Yet every thought for utterance taking paine , Which first might be receav'd , so hastily went , That I was forc'd ( indifferent iudge to all ) To act by signes , and let my speeches fall . And running to the haunt of my delight , My cheefest blisse , I streight fall at his feet , And kindly offer in my Saviours sight , To bath them now with teares of ioy most sweet : To sanctifie my lips with kissing his , Once greevous , but now glorious wounds of blis . To hear more words I listed not to stay , Being with the word it selfe now happie made , But deeme a greater blisse for to assay , To have at once my wishes full apaide In honouring and kissing of his feet , Than in the hearing of his speech , lesse sweet . For even as love , in nature coveteth To be united , yea transformed whole Out of it selfe into the thing it loveth : So what unites , love most affecteth sole , And still preferreth least coniunction ever , Before best ioies , which distance seemes to sever . To see him therefore , doth not me suffice , To heare him doth not quiet whole my mind , To speake with him in so familiar wise , Is not ynough my loose let soule to bind : No , nothing can my vehement love appease ; Least by his touch my wo-worne heart I please .

Marie Magdalens seventh Lamentation . Her falling at Christs feet to kisse them , his forbidding her : saying , Do not touch me , for I am not yet ascended to my Father . OH loving Lord , what mysterie is this ; Being dead in sinne , I toucht thy mortall feet That were to die for me , now may not kisse Thy glorious feet , yet thou hast thought it meet They should as well for my good now revive , As for my good they dy'de , being late alive ? Thou didst admit me once to annoint thy head , And am I now unmeet thy feet to touch ? Thou wonted was for to commend the deed , Which now thou doest command me from as much : O Lord , sith I and others shall them feele , Why doest thou now forbid me so to kneele . What meanest thou good Lord , that thou restrainst My heart of such a dutie so desired , Sith thou mongst all thy friends , to me hast deign'd The first of thy selfe ( of all required : ) With thy first words my eares sole happie be , And may I not be blest with touching thee ? If teares have woon such favour from mine eies , If longing earnes a recompence so sweet , Why doest thou Lord my feeling hands despise , And barre my mouth from kissing thy sweet feet : Sith lips ( with plaints ) & hands ( with will to serve ) Doe seeme as great reward for to deserve . But notwithstanding , thus thou doest prevent My tender offer , which I would effect , Forbidding me to touch ( as if thou meant ) I should the difference of thy state respect : Being now a glorious , not a mortall bodie , A life eternall , and not momentarie . For sith the bodies immortalitie , The glorie of the soule together knit , Are both of them indowments heavenly For such as in sweet Paradice doe sit : Rights of another world well maist thou deeme This favour , than nothing of small esteeme . Though to my Father I have not ascended , I shortly shall , let thy demeanure then Not by the place where I am , be intended , But by that place which is my due : and when With reverence thou farre off wouldst fall , I will consent that thou me handle shall . If thou my former promises beleeve , My present words may be a constant proofe , Doe not thy eies and eares true witnesse give , Must hands and face most feele for hearts behoofe : If eies and eares deceived be by me , As well may hands and face deluded be . Yet if thou feare least I so suddaine part , That if thou take not leave now of my feet , With hamble kisse , with teares fetcht from thy heart , Thou never shalt so fit a season meet : License that doubt , for all these loves of thine , There will be found a more convenient time . But goe about what now more hast requires , Run to my brethren , tell them what I say , That I to satisfie their soules desires , For them in Gallilee will goe stay : And there before them shortly will I bee , Where they my sacred heavenly face shall see . And I pr●ferring fore my wish his will , Even like a hungrie child departed from him , Puld from a tear , which soo●e of milke doth fill , Or like a thirstie Hart , from brookes exil'd : Sorrie that I by carrying ioyfull newes , Should leave my Lord , whom I did rather chuse . Alas then ( said I ) cannot others be Made happie , but by my unhappie crosse , Cannot their gaine come in by none but me , And not by me , but by my heavie losse : Must dawning of their day my evening be , And to enrich themselves , must they rob me ? Alas goe seeke to better thee ( deare hart ) And ease thy woe in some more happie brest , Sith I unworthie creature for my part , Am nothing freed from my late unrest : But in the tast of high felicitie , The want whereof doth worke more miserie . Thus lead by dutie , and held backe by love , I paced forward , but my thoughts goe backe , Readie eftsoones a sounding fit to prove , But that firme faith supported me from wracke : And towards the Tombe in breathing oft I turn'd , As it that aire with new refreshing burn'd . Sometimes poore soule my selfe I doe forget , Love in a sweet distraction leading me , Makes me imagine I my love have met , And seemes as though his words were feeding me : I deeme his feet are folded in my armes , And that his comfort my chill spirit warmes . But when my wits are all againe awake , And this a meere illusion is found , My heart halfe dead , it wonted woe doth take , And greater greefe my sicke soule doth confound , That I ( alas ) the thing it selfe must misse , Whose onely thought so much delightfull is . And as I passed where my Lord hath beene , Oh stones ( said I ) more happier farre than I , Most wretched caitife , I alas have seene When unto you my Lord did not denie The touch of his for ever blessed feet , Whereof my ill deserts makes me unmeet . Alas , what crime have I of late commit , That cancels me out of his good conceit ? Or doth my Lord his wonted love forget , May I no more his wonted love await ? Had I for tearme of life his love in lease , And did my right expire in his decease ? Oh in his feet with teares at first I writ My supplication for his mercie sweet , With sobs and sighe ( poore soule ) I pointed it , My haire did cho●●ely ●old it , being wet , My lips impression humbly seal'd the same , With reverent 〈◊〉 , which from my sick soule came . They were the dores that 〈◊〉 first did give Into his favour , and by them 〈◊〉 By kind ac●●p●●nce in his 〈…〉 , By them I did my 〈…〉 Vnto his head 〈…〉 In man , a 〈◊〉 of 〈◊〉 b●go●nesse plaine . 〈…〉 alas I must contented be 〈◊〉〈◊〉 bea●e a lower saile , and 〈◊〉 to ●une , 〈…〉 downe my 〈◊〉 that sores so high , To meaner hopes , and leave aloft to c●ime : Si●h ●o●mer favours now are ma●kes too high , Either ●o levell at , or to come nigh . But oh ambitious ●ies for so weake sight , He is too bright a Sunne your lookes are ty'de , And now are limitted to meaner light , And rather like a Bart , than Eagle ey'de : You must your selves t'in●eriour lookes submit , For him to see , such substance is unfit . No , no , sith 〈…〉 his feet reiected , How can I thinke , but that my want of faith Is cause I am so slenderly respected , An● that his heart to yeeld me love gainesaith : Yea , that I am from all possession throwne , Of his kind favour , which were earst mine owne . Yet why should I stoope to a feare so base , When want of faith with sinne was worse agreeved : He did vouchsafe to gr●●nt me of his grace , And shall I now , cause faintly I beleeved , Thinke that my Lord so rigorously will deale , As to abridge me of this wished weale ? Is the sinceritie of my pure Love , ( Wherein he hath no partener at all ) In no respect availeable to move , Or in account is it so light and small , As that it may not hope some sparke to find Of wonted mercie , and his gra●● so kind . I will not wrong him with so ●●iust a thought , Sith his appearing doth approve the same , His words o'rethrow that such suspition wrought , His countenance doth te●l I am to blame : Why then should I from such a vaine surmise , Sucke so much sorrow in such foolish wise ? Thus as I travailed in this iourney short , My fantasies long voiages did make , And heal'd my mind in such a wavering sort , Hope could not win , nor feare would not forsake : But twixt them both my vision made me glad , And greefe of my deniall made me sad . But as I was in this perplexed wise , Rising and falling in uncertainetie , The other holy women I espie That first with me came to the grave to see , To whom the Angels had made demonstration Of Christ my Lord and maisters resurrection .

The Conclusion . Iesus met them , saying , All Haile . OH how profound are all thy iudgements Lord , How doest thou take my sorrow to thy heart , How doth thy eies such bleeding drops afford , To see my wounded love and greevous smart : That thy refusall late required is With such a grant so free and full of blis . Full of content , the baulme of troubled mind , That tooke no pleasure where thy presence wanted . But oh how grace hath graced me to find The love , wherewith my soule is cheefe acquainted : His love 's my life , by his love my life liveth , For to my soule his love the life breath giveth . Now are the dolefull , darke , and pitcht-fac'd clouds Dispearst and driven from my comforts face , Those melancholy , moist , and wat'rie shrouds , That did the brightnesse of my ioies displace , Wrapping me up , as in eternall night , Vanisht they are , seeing my hearts delight . Delight in him , to whom all love is debt , Seal'd with the heart , the soule , and all the might , A paiment that admits no worldly let , To linger or defraud a heavenly right : Which if I cannot pay as due requires , Accept ( O Lord ) thy debtors true desires . Let me thy everlasting prisoner be , Chain'd in the linkes of an eternall love , My want and will is only knowne to thee , A willing debtour I will ever prove : And what I have , I freely doe bestowe , Take all my worth , for part of that I owe . Oh Christian soule take Marie to thy mirrour , And if thou wilt the like effects obtaine , Then follow her in like affections fervour , And so with her , like mercie shalt thou gaine : Learn sinfull man of this once sinfull woman , That sinners may find Christ , which sin abandon . That love recovereth him , that sinne did lose , That firme beleefe recalleth that againe Which fainting faith did quite forsake to chose ; That what nor force nor favour can obtaine , Nor pollicie by mortall meanes bring in , Continued teares of constant love can win . Learne then of her for Christ no force to feare , And out of Christ no comfort to desire With Christ his love , all love ( though ne're so deare ) To over-rule , to quench fond fancies fire : Rise earely soule , in thy good motions morne , Sleepe not in sloth , when diligence may performe . Run with repentance to thy sinfull hart , Which should the Temple undefil'd have bin , But through thy fault , deserves no better part Than be the Tombe for Christ to burie in : For wanting life to tast this heavenly bread , He seem'd to thee as if he had been dead . Remove the loads that presse thee downe in sin , The stone of former hardnesse roule away , Looke to thy soule , if Christ be lodg'd therein , And if thou find that there he doe not stay , Then weepe without , in other creatures mind him , Sith had in all , in any thou maist find him . Make faith thine eie , hope guide , and love thy light , Seeke him , not his , for himselfe , not his meeds : If faith have found him in a cloudie night , Let hope seeke for him when the day spring breeds : If hope to see him , have thee luckly led , Let love seeke further , in him to be fed . If Sorrow knocke , Remorse is Mercies porter , And ever opens to let Dolour in , Vnto that dore be thou a quicke resorter , T is much to save the losse that comes by sin : He that of Sorrow is true mournefull taster , Doth feele sins smart , and find sins salving plaster . Strive with thy thoughts , being all prepar'd together , To rise out of mortalities foule mire , Which hath no standing , nor firme footing neither , Prevent the daunger , and in time retire : Crave to be cleane of that same filth sinne urged , For who is pure , that Iesus hath not purged ? He can the ruines of thy soule repaire , He yet destributeth his mercies treasure , The dore stands open yet , thy suite prepare , Let not repentance stay old ages leasure : When the Meridian of thy Sun 's once past , The night of Nature hies upon thee fast . Awake therefore , watch th' evils hourely nie , Provide before thou be surpriz'd of breath , Vpon the pale horse heedfull cast thine eie , Note him that sits thereon , whose name is Death : Be readie for the stroke he is to give , For feare thou die , ere thou begin to live . Oh mild Physician , how well didst thou know Thy corosive so sharp did greeve my wound , Which did by ignorance , not errour grow , Therefore no sooner felt , but helpe was found : Thy linative appli'de , did ease my paine , For though thou did forbid , t was no restraine . And now to shew that thy deniall late , Was but a cheeke to my unsetled faith , And no reiecting of my fault with hate ; Thou letst me wash thy feet in my teare bath : I kisse them too , the seales of our redemption , My love renewed with endlesse consolation . Thus hast thou Lord full finished my teares , Assured my hopes , contented my desire● Repai'd my love ●●extirped 〈◊〉 my fea●es , Perfected ioies with all that heart requires : And made the period of expiring greefes , The preamble to ever fresh releefes . How mercifull a father art thou Lord To poore forsaken Orphans in distresse , How soft a iudge , that iudgement doth afford With mildest grace , to sinners comfortlesse ? How sure a friend unto a syncere lover , Whose pure and faithfull love doth alter never ? Thou then that art with diligence prepar'd , Going with speed , standing with hopes lift hie , Humbling thy heart , thy haughtie will impar'd , If thou with Marie none but Christ would see , Himselfe will to thy teares an answere give , And his owne words assure thee he doth live : That sweetly he , vnto thee being showne , To others thou maist run , and make him knowne . FINIS .