AS soone as our Sauioure had paide the tri­bute of our re­demption on the tree of the Crosse, and suffered in the flesh, for the offences of fleshly men, iust and compassionate Ioseph, (with his associates, who had begged the bodie, and taken the true Isaac from the pile of the sa­crifice) wrapped the prison of Christs eternitie in fayre linnen [Page] clothes, addressing himselfe to beare him to his sepulchre, but Mary the maiden mother, who during the time of his passion had welnigh emptied all the ri­uers of her compassion, & rifled the treasures of her remorse, to lament her sonnes most tragike martyrdome, accompanying her deuotion with their duty, as they wrapt him, shee wept him; as fitie zeale assisted their hands sounding griefe wrought on hir heart; her eie grudged at that their hands did execute, and hir eyes onely griefe was so vehe­ment, that they executed them­selues in executing griefe.

Ahlas (amiable Ladie) howe satest thou like the desolate tur­tle weeping thy make? How many legions of miseries were armed against thy sole & singu­lar patience? Thy dead ioyes gaue thy sorows f [...]ck, & sorrow [Page] was so actiue in thee, as if thou hadst bin wholy resolued into sorrowe. They that beheld thy griefe were amazed to beholde it, yet thou in suffring it, though­test all to little for him thou suf­feredst. Chrisost. in Genes. Bernard Ho­mil. 2. de vir­gin. Thou flaming bush re­plenished with fire, yet neuer burning, thou flourishing rod of Aaron swiftly springing, thou lock of Gedeon filled with celesti­all dew, how neere neighbours were thy lips to the dere lips of thy sonne? How redy were thy handes to discouer thy cause of griefe, to the end thou mightest couer those lims which did cō ­fort thee in life. Thornes could not let thee frō kissing his torne face, frō his dead countenance grew thy disconsolate comfort: The suppose of what hee was, made thee greeue, that so he is, & the hope of that he would be, [Page] gouerned and bridled the sor­row wherein thou wouldest be. Ah faire among the daughters of Sion, hee that had seene thy cheeks (like clusters of grapes in Engaddi) become more pale than the frosty face of Apennine: hee that had seene the mother imbrued in the bloud of her Sonne, the Son bedewed with his mothers teares, coulde hee leaue off teares, except hee had for sworne them? Oh ye Angels of peace weep with this virgin, mourne heauens, droup starres, the Lord of heauen hath suffe­red, and Marie sigheth for him: the Sonne hath dyed for all, the mother deads her heart with so­row, for the Lorde of all: his dead bodie is the mirror of her losse: her liuely griese is the mo­tion and spirite of her loue: she [Page] exclaimes on cuerie sense, but they forsake their offices: his eies will not beholde her, his tongue will not salute her, his handes will not imbrace her, his eares will not heare her, yet yel­deth her charitie such vigour to all her senses, that in looking on him, shee seemeth to giue his dead eie a second sight; his deaf eare, a relenting attention; his senselesse armes and hands, a ha­bite of imbrace, only seeing the tong the vnkindest member in requiting her, she betrothed her tongue to complaint, and thus most pensiuely lamented.

O my God, Ieremy 9. lend mine eyes a well of teares, for they must weepe a worlde of wrongs. Let the voice of my complaintes pearce the heauens, and let the centre shake, to heare my shriks.

Ahlas this day must I be ten­der, 1: Reg: 30 hauing as many sorrows to weepe for, as daies to liue; and no daie to liue, that hath not his legion of sorrowes. Mine eyes breake my heart, when I consi­der what my heart must dis­charge by mine eyes. Oh Lord thou seest my wrong, take thou my cause vpon thee, for an infi­nite passion is required to la­ment my infinite losse. I am the tygresse depriued of her young whelp, the sacred tree that haue lost my sonne, that altar of hea­uen, who want my sacrifice, the throne of Salomon, Chri: ho [...]de Io: Baptist Hier. in 44 Ezechiel Greg: Nissen de nat: Dom Bernard su­per missus hortum con­dusum, &c who faile my king: the orientall gate, who lacke the bridegrome. I am the root of Iesse, the high mountain, the ladder of Iacob, the propiti­atorie, the tower of Dauid, the terrestrial paradise, yet am I not [Page] in this, that I want my braunch, I lack my increase, I faile of my An­gell, I am'depriued of my tenant, I am robbed of my keeper, and rest of my citizen.

Come yee daughters of Ie­rusalem, and weepe with mee, beholde, hee that leadeth capti­uitie captiue, is nowe a captiue, and I in looking on am a caitiue: Beholde the golde that was bright, is become dimme: the doues eyes are growen darke: the gro­wing Lillye is quite choaked by thornes: weepe yee foolish vir­gins, your bridegroome is parted. Feede with poore Marie on the bread of tribulation, for I haue lost a sonne, and you lost your Sa­uiour.

Ah looke with mee you iudi­ciall eyes of Israell, beholde ri­ches apparelled in pouertye; [Page] beautie obscured in darknes, chari­tie exemplified in death, death cru­cified by charitie. Beholde him whose beautie the Sunne & Moon admire, whose maiesty the heauens and earth reuerence, whose wise­dome yeeldes wisedome to the queene of Angels, by whose beau­tie the colledge of all happie soules are maintained: beholde him liue­lesse, to get you lyfe, breathlesse, for your benefite, naked, to giue you clothing, wounded for your weal, bleeding, for your behest, and can you chuse but weepe with the mo­ther the losse of such a sonne? Red waxe in the Sunne becommeth white: hard diamondes in vineger waxe softe: Bernard. Granaten. li. meditationū one Summer ripes ma­ny fruites: since then the Sunne of iustice hath shined vpon you, be ye mollified like waxe, lenyified like diamonds, tipened like fruite: that [Page] the water of angels may drop from your eies, that the fire of charitie may cause compassion distill from your braines, so that weeping with me so great a losse as I weepe, the world may know the want of him we weepe for.

I lifte not vp my voice with E­sau to weepe, hee found a brother, I haue lost a sonne. Iacob kissed Rachel and wept for ioy to see her: I kisse the bodie of my sonne, and weepe because I see him not: Oh would my Rachel might bee his woundes, woulde my concubine were his crosse: would his winding cloathes were my wedding coats, & indiui­ded graue might bear to indiuided heartes. The daughters of Israel wepte ouer Saul, and hee a wicked king: 2. Reg. 1 O yee daughters of Ierusalem weepe, houle, and lament, a Sauior is departed from you, a iust king [Page] hath suffered. Let your faces bee swolne with weeping, for I wil wa­ter my couch with teares. Let the voice of my mourning bee heard in your streetes, for the noise of tri­bulation is harbored in my heart. Weepe discomfortable teares, and I wil mingle my drinke with weep­ing: salme 102 with weeping conduct that Lord to the graue, who weepingly bewailed, and be wailingly wept o­uer your Citie.

Inforce your selues to weepe, em. 14 whilest my eyes faile me thorough weeping: powre your teares on his heart, whilest I feede on teares daie and night. I will powr all my teares into his wounds, [...]salme 50 he will put all your teares into his bottell.

Let your teares run like a riuer, & let my teares be seas to suck them vp, only assist me in my strong wee­ping and teares, and he will wipe a­waie [Page] all your teares. Why claime I partners in my griefe, who haue no partners in my loue? No creatute loued thee deerer in thy life, & shal I seeke associats in bewailing thee? Ah my son, could ought but death depart thee and mee? Nay, coulde there be one step betwixt mee and death, who onelye in death maye now seeke thee?

O Iesu my Father, my Sonne, see heere an indissoluble Enigma, Enigma in­extricabil-Maria est vir­go, mater, sponsa, filia. Benedictus in vita Marie I a Virgine, had thee a Sonne; thou a son, hadst mee a spouse; my sonne is my father, and I am the daughter of my sonne. I will then weepe for thee as my father, sigh for thee as thy daghter, die for thee as thy spouse, and grieue for thee as thy mother: & as thou art wonder­fully mine, so will I weepe such a labyrinth of teares, as no mortall mourner shalbe able to tract them. [Page] I will dissolue my relenting, & yel­ding passions with all their fruites, to lament thee as a sonne, I will put on the roabes of dissolution to mourne for thee as my spouse, I wil gather & ingrosse al griefe, to weep for thee as my father, & beginning where I end, and ending where I began, I will make my tears famous in their continuance, and my loue more inflamed by thinking on thee.

I coniure you ye daughters of Ie­rusalem to looke on me, but weepe no more with me, I lament a sonne lost, to teach you to weepe for the sorowes of your children to come: but if the entrailes of your pittie, & springs of compassion must needes breake out, weepe you onely his harmes in life, & let me bewaile the losse of him by death: my confi­dent minde and firme constancie, [Page] when the world was disturbed at his passion, made me peremptorie: when the earth trembled, I was not troubled, Bernard in Medit. whē the pilets of heauen were shaken, I sounded not, they sell, I stood: now am I drowned in the sea of bitternes, his eie of com­passion (the pilot in those seas) hath lefte mee, the helme of my hope is broken, Granatensis lib de vita Christi. the sunne of my comfort is eclipsed, hee hath past the brierie & thornie paths, the scourges hath re­gistred his patience on his backe, the nailes haue tied his triumphs, our sinnes, his bodie to the crosse, I niurie hath spit her venom, Infamie hath doone his worst, Iu­stice hath ransackt his right: wayle this yee daughters of Ierusalem, for your children shall wring for it, I onely exclaim on death, death hath triumphed ouer life, til glory ouer­come death, the holie one hath pe­rished, [Page] fished, & seeth no corruption: one daies, one houres, one minutes want of that I loue, maks euery day an age, euerie houre a million of a­ges, euerie minute an eternitie of sorrow, for that I want.

O you that passe this waie & be­holde this bodie, you that looke on these wounds, & see these lims; tell me, Is not beautie oppressed? Ma­iestie imbased? Innocencie marti­red? Come neere and iudge if anie griefe may bee compared with mine? The fairer children we haue the dearer we loue them, and shuld I who bare the mirrour of all beau­tie in my wombe, cease to weep for him? You men of Israel that be­holde this, bee not amazed at my griefe, my loue was extreame, my griefe must not be extenuate: the grace was great to beare Christ, the courage is as great to bewaile him [Page] his beautie was infinite, and shall my moanes bee definite? These thornes which martyrize his beau­tious browes, this bloud which be­deweth his bloudlesse face, these woundes that disgrace his blessed bodie, this humilitie in so great & mighty a monarch, 'are prickes and spurs to egge you vnto repentance; springes to washe you from your wickednesse, gates to bring you to glory: all these are but stinges to stir you to loue God, mirrors in which you see his beautie, books in which you reade his wisedome, and prea­chers which teach you the waie to heauen. Oh thou paschall lambe, Ambrose in Math. whose bloud hath bin sprinkled on the timber of the cross! Oh thou by whō men are deliuered frō y ^e thral­dom of Egipt, & the captiuity of the prince of this world, whose death killed their death, whose sacrifice [Page] satisfied for their sinnes. Whose bloud deliuereth them from the chastising Angell, whose meeknes pacifieth the ire of the father, and whose innocencie deserueth for them true securitie and iustice.

Thou booke which the Prophet sawe written both within and with out, sech. 2 why striue not men by theyr sighs to breath life into thee? And why should not my cries of com­passion recall thy spirit? Ahlas my God, sinne hath gotten the vpper hand, these Iewes are amazed, thy mother vnable, their zeale cold, my power small, the vnbeleeuing are many, and penitents haue too fewe teares to bewaile thee: yet while teares yeeld me anie tribute, sighes vouch safe me anie succour, tongue affoord me anie words, I will weep for thee, sigh for thee, and talke of thee, desiring rather to surfet in [Page] wordes, than to shroude my zeale, and rather die in bewailing thee to much, than liue to lament thee too little.

O thou glasse of grace, who hath bespotted thee? who hath brought thee into the shadow of death? Ah deare soule, what northwind of sin hath blowen hether al this tempest? meeknesse could not offend, pati­ence did not insult, innocencie was faultlesse: the vvolfe shoulde haue suffered, not the lambe: the guiltie, not the guiltlesse. Oh the immea­surable reach of thy mercie, I haue spied the insearchable bent of the same, thou hast lefte life to reuiue them that loath thee: suffred death, for such as detracted from thee, borne mans infirmities, and satisfi­ed his sinnes.

O grace beyond all conceit, O marucilous mysterie: Thou di­edst [Page] for man, man declineth from thee: thou sufferedst for his sinnes, he sigheth not for thy death. Prouerb. 6 O men swift footed to run to wickednes, haue you no affects to bewaile him who suffered for your defects? Wil you not weep for the prophet that died for your profit? Haue you no teares to spend for him, whose life is spent for you? O ingratefull, O iniurious, drawe neere and behold a mother bewailing your ingrati­tude: a son dead for your redemp­tion: and though you lament him not for the plentious consolations you haue reiceiued by him, yet grieue for him for my plenti­ous griefe sake, who haue lost all my ioye for your generall com­fort.

Beholde these lippes are closed which were wont to vtter oracles of comfort: those eyes are shut [Page] which neuer behelde your infir­mities without flouds of compas­sion, the handes are maymed which were liberallye opened to all good workes, the feete are wounded that brought you ti­dinges of peace, eache parte of him is thus mangled, to amende you: hurt, to heale you: galled, to doo you good: pearced, to worke your profite: And haue you no one teare to tender for his kind­ness?

Ah ingratefull that yee are, and more insensible than beastes, more cruell than tygers, more harde than stones: the Sunne put on mourning garmentes, when my sonne suffered, and shall not the swoorde of afflictions pearce your entrayles to beholde this tra­gedie? The vaile of the Temple rent from the top to the bottome, [Page] and will you not rent your heartes with ruth, to regard his rent bodie? The earth trembled for feare, and wil you not weep for pittie? Stones breake in sunder, and shal not your stonie harts wax tender? The dead for sooke their graues, to grieue for him, and shal not the liuing despise their delights to lament him?.

Ah iust Abel, [...]aeseos thy bloud cryeth for reuenge, and hath pearced hea­uen, but it is dispersed and despised on earth. [...]enes. 37 Ah holy Ioseph, thy blou­die coate hath broached a spring of remorse in Iacobs eies, though thy brethren lament thee not. The cho­sen Israelites mourn for their Samp­son, [...]id. 6 though the Philistians afflicte thee. Oh men, the Saints in heauen blesse this bodie, you sinners on earth will not bewaile it: the hea­uens shew his greatnes, yet men on earth acknowledge not his good­nes, [Page] the starres declare his diuini­tie, men decline not to see his dead humanitie: the flowers of the fields testifie his beautie, but the wormes of the earth sorrowe not his ob­scuritie.

O you race of Adam, he that cre­ated all things without trauell, go­uerned them without care, sustain­ed them without thought, and pos­sessed them without necessity, now lieth heere dead, trauelled by sor­row and death, blinde to make you see, senselesse to make you feel, sub­iect to make you soueraignes, and shall he haue so much care of you, & you so little compassion of him? Oh you hardned in heart, blinded in vnderstanding, surfeted in sensu­alitie, wil not then your stony harts otherwise suffer ye to weepe, come gather teares from the wel-head of his benefits, that you may assist me [Page] to bewail him: he hath drawen you from your bannishment to your blessing, from obscuritie to life, frō death to eternitie. What he punish­ed in the angells, he pittied in you: what he persecuted in himselfe, [...]. 14 he hath pacifid for you. In the old law whosoeuer had falne into the vn­cleannes of leprosie, was thus cured and thus cleansed, the priest taking two sparrows, when he had slain the one, dismissed the other, & anoint­ing the sick of the leprosie with the bloud of the dead one, hee thereby recured the sicke, & purged the vn­cleannes. And what figure is this, ô ye sonnes of vanitie, but the tipe of your owne imperfections: you are spiritually falne into the leprosie of sin, this noble sacrifice, this sacred priest hath taken two sparrows, his bodie and soule, to cleanse you of your leprosie, his bodie hath hee suffered to die, to bee rent, to bee [Page] torne, to bee whipte for you, his soule hee hath dismissed, and by the bloud issuing from his wounds he hath clensd your leprosy, Animā nul­lus potest oc­cidere. Math 10 ratifi­ed his couenāt, shut you in the arms of mercye, shuted you with your wedding garmēts. Oh then though his sufferance touch not your harts let his benefites turne them: weep, weepe on him that praieth for you as your priest, praieth in you as your head, and must bee intreated by you as your God. Behold your phisition whom desire of gold hath not drawen to you, Ierem. 107 but intirenes of mercye hath prouoked to assuage your miserie. Beholde that Christ that hath vnited you to God, re­conciled you with his bloud, & vr­ged compassion for you with his tears: your sins haue separated you from him, Ierem. 59 his death hath alied you to him. O hard hearted men cannot this moue you, thē harkē to further [Page] motiues, and let them amend you. God in the first lawe appointed a free citie of refuge for the afflicted, and priuiledge for the offenders, whereto whosoeuer had grace to approch before he were apprehen­ded, hee was assured of safetie, and defended from iustice. In this new law, this Christ (oh true tipe of cha­ritie) hath made these cities in him­selfe, established this priuiledge in his body, and walled the same with his wounds. Hether, ô you sinners, repaire, heere shall you haue mer­cy for teares, life for repentance, re­mission of sinnes, for confession of sinne. Oh contrite sinner, dwell in these cities, let your memorie inha­bite them, thy meditation imbrace them, thy pittie bewaile them. Thinke on these woundes, they wil heale thee, forsake them, death will follow thee, forget them, mercie [Page] will denie thee. Abuse not the pri­uiledge of wounds, death, and pas­sion, least thou bewaile too late the horror of hell, death, and damnati­on. Will none weep with me? Will no reasons wound you? Are teares so scant, for mercies so plentifull? Come, come and learne what tears be, that you may know their bene­fites. The sinners teares are Gods mirrours: their penitent sighs, his incense: God heareth praiers, but beholdeth tears: praiers moue God to heare, Esay 38 Ambrose tears compell him to haue mercie. Silent teares are speaking aduocats. It was not Maries anoin­ting with sweet balme, Maries dry­ing, with faire haire, Maries atten­tion with humble heart, but Ma­ries teares, they wrought my com­passion. Oh come & weepe then, & if not weepe, yet consider. Proude man, see here the patterne of humi­litie: [Page] humble, learne heere whereof to releeue thee: irefull, learne here the benefite of sufferance, [...]ust. patient, receiue here the crown of durance: couetous, learne heere to affect po­uertie: poor, receue here, how thou hast Christ thy companion: the on­ly sonne of God, hath made many sons of God, hee hath bought him brothers with his bloud, approued them, and beeing approued, redee­med them beeing solde, [...] honoured them by suffering dishonours, and giuen thē life by suffring death. Let him therefore be wholy infixed in your hearts, who wholy was cruci­fied for you on the crosse. O men loose not these blessings, forget not these bounties. This Christ subiec­ted himselfe to the power of death that he might deliuer you from the yoake and power of the deuill: hee tooke seruitude vpon him, that hee [Page] might giue you the libertie of eter­nal life, hear what he crieth in your soules, and respect his summons.

O man see what I suffer for thee, Ambrose. there is no griefe like to mine, I cry vnto thee who died for thee. Be­hold the paines wherwith I am af­flicted, see the nailes wherwith I am pearced, and although the exterior griefe be so great, yet the inward so­rowes are more vehement, when I behold and find thee so vngratefull for my passion. Behold man whom you crucified, beholde God and man whome you woulde not be­leeue, Hicrome beholde the woundes which you inflicted, acknowledge the sides which you wounded, all which were opened for you, but you will not enter: I gaue my selfe for you, that I might redeeme you from all iniquitie, Ad Tu. 20 I suffered with entire loue to winne your [Page] entire loue, beeing God I became man; beeing the fountaine of all plentie, I suffered hunger, I the wel spring thirsted, I the light, was dark­ned, I the rest of al, was wearied for all, false witnes outfaced veritie, I the iudge of the liuing & the dead, was iudged by a mortall creature, Iustice was condemned by the vn­iust, [...]gust. discipline was beaten, the clu­ster of grapes was crowned with thorns, vertue was weakned, health wounded, and life made death, my heart for sooke me in torments for you, they wounded my hands and feet, so that al my bones were broke asunder, [...]. 5 euen in that weaknesse I dyed for you being wicked. Why therefore fasten you me to a more greuous crosse of your sins, thā that wheron I was crucified? [...]gust in [...]dam ser­ [...]em de Iudicij. The crosse of your crimes is more irksome vn­to mee than the crosse whereon I [Page] lately suffered. Taking compassion on you, I willingly ascended. Oh then weepe for me, because I suffe­red for you. Thou that runnest af­ter delight, surfetest in pleasure, de­sirest ease, come to this schoole, and learn thy lesson, let my grace draw thee from disgrace, my sufferance, from thy sensualitie, my charity frō thine vncleanesse. Beholde the law is satisfied in my bloud, and your infirmities are couered by my crosse. I a man praide to me a God, Innocentius Iaiudge wept ouer you being con­demned: to ease your temptation I was tempted for you: yet for all these dolorous deserts, you yeelde me no teares of true sorrow. I was spit vpon to wash you, I was coue­red, to the end that the vale of sin and ignorance shuld be taken from your hearts: my head was wound­ed, Hiero. super Matth. to the end that your head Adam [Page] should be restored to health, I was buffeted with fists, & mocked with wordes, to the end that you should applaud me with your lips, lifte vp your hands vnto me, and worship me both in deeds and wordes, thus louing you, and washing you from your sinnes, disdaine not to bee re­conciled to me in repētance. Heare the three things figured in my pas­sion, my head was bowed downe, in signe of remission of sinnes: wa­ter issued from my sides, in token of the cleansing of your faults: bloud, in signe of the redemption of your punishment. Oh let the effects of these signes force you, I am a medi­cine to the sicke, a rule to the depra­ued, a dwelling place to the deso­late, and a light for the darkned. Oh come vnto me you hard harted, for to be turned from me, is to fall: to be conuerted to me, [...]gust. lib. [...]put. is to rise: to be [Page] grounded in me, is to florish: ô turn vnto me, whom no man loseth, ex­cept deceiued, no man seeketh vn­monished, Bernard and no man findeth vn­purged. I am the first that come to you, and the last that go from you, I being iust, came vnto you sinners, that of sinners I might make you iust: I beeing holy, came to the vn­hallowed, to the end I might make you whole: I being humble, came vnto you being proud, that I might make you humble: I came not for the iust sake, but to correct the re­probate: I came not for the strong, but to heale the weake: I came not for the resolued, but to strengthen the doubtfull: my melodie is the a­mendment of sinners, my triumph the constancie of martirs, my desire the immortalitie of y ^t faithful. Thus sat [...] blessed mother, somtime per­sonating her son, to persuade more [Page] mouingly, sometime soliciting the assistance by great motiues to be­waile him earnestly, somtime wee­ping, while sorow stopt her speech, sometime perswading whilest cha­ritie quickned her tongue, somtime bemoning hir while she beheld hir dead sonne, sometime recomfort­ing Marie that fate weeping at her feet, so that those that disdained hir fortune, were amazed at her con­stancie, for though shee bewayled like a naturall mother, yet indured she like a confident martyr, Bernard & ther­fore sayth Chrisostome, she was vex­ed with an intollerable agonie of griefe, because shee was touched with an vnspeakable affection of loue, whereby being vnited to God, we seeme to be conuerted & made one with him. Oh my soule consi­der a while, whilest the solitarie maide sitteth ouer her sonne, what [Page] she is that bewaileth him? This is the blessed amongest women that was salu ted by the Angell with Auc, as being deliuered, Libro de na­tura rerum. ave, from al curse: This is that Marie that by interpre­tation beeing the sea, retaineth sixe qualities of the same. Of the sea it is said, that it is the collection of al wa­ters, either sower or sweet, the head and hosterie of all flouds, a helpe in necessities, a refuge in perills, an ease in trauels, a gaine to laborers: of her it is said, Let al the waters vnder hea­uen be drawn into one place, which gathering of waters, is the accom­plishment of natures: Anselmus Gen: 1 the sea is the head and hostery of flouds, the head by the flux of waters, the hosterie by the refluxe: so the blessed virgine is the mediation and head of grace, & whatsoeuer good we receiue, it flo­weth from the fruit of her wombe. Thirdly, y ^e sea is a help in necessitie, [Page] Fourthly, as y ^e sea is a refuge in perills when in her maine bodie we escape shipwrack: so the immaculate maid bringing forth the fulnesse of our re­demption, deliuereth vs from the shipwracke of our soules. So testifi­eth Bernard of Marie. Quia aperit si­num pietatis uniuersis. Fiftly, the sea is a helpe to shorten the waie of the traueller: so in this great sea of this world this holy maiden directeth vs and shortneth our waie by the staire of her humilitie. Sixtly, it is a gaine to labourers, making thē rich by tra­fique: so he that trafiqueth with this blessed maide in meditation, imita­teth her in deuotion, accompanyeth her in sorrow, shall receiue the gaine of his labour, and the fruites of im­mortalitie. This is she of whom Am­brose speaketh in his booke of virgi­nitie, Virgo erat. She was a virgin not onely in bodie but in minde, for no [Page] circumuention of decit could adul­terate hir sincere affect: in hart hum­ble, in words graue, in mind wise, in speech sparing, in readings studious. This is the rose without prickles, the flower of the rose in the prime: for as the spring is the cause of gladnes, so was her fruit the cause or redempti­on. This is she whose humility hath raised vs, whose virginitie hath inri­ched vs, & whose deuotion hath re­leeued vs. O how wonderfull was the fruitfulnes of this virgine, sayth Bonauenture, Anselme which no sooner recei­ueth salutatiō, but conceiueth salua­tion. Before the virgin (saith Oditius) conceiued Christ, it was winter, but after she had conceiued the word of God, it became Summer. Finally, thorough the vapour of the holye Ghost the flower sprong: A branch shall springe out of the roote of lesse, and a flower shall ascende [Page] from the roote, as faith Esaie. And what other is this braunch (O thou blessedst amongest women) but thy selfe the virgine of God: what this flower but thy sonne? O crimson rose Iesus how in all thy bodie shine the perfect signes of thy loue? Ah­lasse there is no little space lefte without impression of loue or griefe. Hearke what Ambrose faith further of this virgin, She fixed not her happines in vncertaine sub­staunce, but fastned her hope to her son Christ, intentiue in her workes, modest in her sayinges, whose pur­pose was not to satisfie man, but to seeke after God: to hurt none, but to succour all: to salute euerie one, to reuerence her elders, not to hate her equalls: to slie boasting, to followe reason, & to loue vertue. When dyd this virgin hurt her parents with dis­obedient lookes? When dissented [Page] she from hir friends? When despised she the humble? When decided she the weake? When shunned she the needie? Accustoming her selfe to conuerse onely with that companie of men, whose conuersation shee might not be ashamed of? Whome past shee by without modestie? ha­uing nothing crabbed in her looks, nothing crooked in her sayiugs, no­thing immodest in her actions, not wanton in gesture, not insolent in gate, not foolish in voice, but such she was, that the verie beautie, por­traiture, and forme of her body, was the image of her mind, and figure of her honestie. The beautie of this tē ­ple of the Deity, was expressed in the Canticles, where it is sayd: O howe faire art thou my loue? Cant: 4 Howe faire art thou? Thine eies are like doues eies, yet is there farre more hidden within. This is the paradyce which [Page] God prepared to put the second A­dam in. This is that virgin of whom Hierome speaketh, which passed the night in contemplation & watching the thiefe: in loue of God the most learned, in humilitie the most hum­ble, in the psalms of Dauid the most elegant, in charitie most feruent, in puritie the most pure, and in all ver­tue the most perfect: All her words were alwaies full of grace, because she had God alwaies in her mouth, shee continually praide, and as the Prophet sayd, meditated in the lawe of God daie and night. Psalm 1 This is the virgin of virgins, the humble of hū ­blest, in whome humilitie greatned virginitie, & virginitie adorned hu­militie. This is shee whose humilitie adorned her fecunditie, and whose fecunditie consecrated her virgini­tie. This is that Marie, into whose armes the faire vnicorne Iesus rety­red [Page] himselfe after a long pursuit, by the praiers, teares, and sighs of the fa­thers.

This is the exalted, according to the Hebrew, or the starre of the sea, as Hierome translateth it: or the mistres of mankinde, according to the Siriake. Hier. de no­mimbus. Sibil Erichea Et breuis e­gressus Ma­ria de virgi­nis aluo. Exaita est nouatua. This is she of whom the Sibils prophesied. This is she whom Euodius, Peters successour, calleth immaculate, without spot, glorious in humilitie. This is shee appoint­ed before all ages, to beare the great fruit.

This is the animated arke of the liuing God, which brought ma­ny blessinges to Zacharie and Eliza­beth, 2, Reg. 6 as the Arke of the couenant did to Obed Edom. This is shee of whom Albumazar prophesied, Albumazar li. 6 in inter. who speaking of the signe of the Vir­gine, sayde that there shoulde an [Page] immaculate virgine be borne, sayre, elegant, and modest, that should no­rish an infant in Iudea, who shoulde be called Christ. Of this virgin there was found a testimony on the tomb of a pagan; where in a plot of ground these wordes were written, & found in Constantine and his mother Irenes time, An infant named Christ shall bee borne of a virgine, and I beleeue in him. O sonne thou shalt see mee againe in the time of Constantine and his mother I­rene. The like Zonoras reporteth of a certaine Iew, who in a certaine anci­ent book written in three languages vsed these wordes: This is shee in whome Nestorius denying the vni­ting of the humanitie with the diui­nitie, our Lorde in iustice caused wormes to deuour and eate out his tongue. This is she in whom all ver­tues did concurre, all learning a­bound, all deuotions flowe, all com­forts [Page] depend. This is she, as Gregorie testifieth, which foretolde the Iewes of their destruction, and the desola­tion of their citie. This is the true ce­lestiall Pandora, decked and inriched with the whole gifts of God, the fa­ther, the sonne, and the holie Ghost. This is shee whome the Moores re­ported to surpasse in excellence, this is the perfectest of all perfections, as the Turkes and Arabians testifie. This is shee whome all the fathers in deuotion, the Mahumetists in theyr Alcoran, set foorth with praises, and inrich with titles. Oh sweete mo­ther of God, who so speaketh of thee as Hierome sayth, speaketh insuffici­ently: humane abilitie cannot attain it, humane industrie is too weake for it. Whether art thou transported my soule? O my heart bee no more raui­shed with ioye, intentiue to praise: looke back to the foot of the crosse, [Page] there is more cause of meditation, more cause of moane.

Ahlasse, what seest thou? Nay, what seest thou not to bewaile? If thou seest the virgines lappe, it is bloudied with the streames that fall from her Sonnes wounded head. If thou seest her modest eies, they are almost swolne and sunke into hir head with teares. If thou looke for her pure colour, it is de­caied with extreame sorrowe, her breasts are defaced with often bea­ting of her handes, her handes are wearyed by often beating of her breasts.

If shee looke on the one side, shee sees Marie the sinner washing her sons feet with her tears: if on the other, she beholdeth Ioseph wofully preparing his funeralls: if on the o­ther, she seeth virgins mourning: if on the other, she beholdeth soldiers [Page] mocking: if anie waies, she sees sor­rowes plentifull: knowing therfore in her selfe, that true griefe cor­recteth the minde, salueth the of­fence, and maintaineth innocence, shee gan renue her teares, and thus tenderly bewailed her.

If it bee a custome in nature, that fountains return from whence they first issued, bodies bee resolued to that wherof they were first created, ahlasse why should not the same law be in my tears, which first springing from loue, must be buried in loue, & no sooner buried but renued: no­thing before his fulnesse hath his fairenesse, his ripenesse, his strength, his perfection, his praise. Why then delaie I my teares, which can ne­uer receiue their excellence, till they bee wepte to their vtteraunce. Ahlasse, ahlas, teares are sweet wea­pons to wound and to winne harts, [Page] I will vse them, I will inuite them, I will maintaine them, I will triumph in them: Come my son, what now shall I weep in thee? Not thy death, for it is thy triumph: not thy con­tēpts, for they were thy cōtents: but thy martyrdom, which wrought my miserie. O sinfull soules, behold two altars raised by one massacre, one in the bodie of Christ, the other in the heart of the virgin: on the one is sa­crificed the flesh of the sonne, on the other the soule of the mother: such a death no creature hath suffered, such a sorrowe no heart hath contained. Philosophie concents to my sorow, Cic Famil. 6 for mine eies increase in griefe, my passions are intollerable, beeing af­flicted in al my senses, my loue quic­kens my passions, my deuotion nou­risheth my loue, my teares beautifie my affection. Woe is me, nowe'am I rightly compared to the Moone; [Page] for my sunne is eclipsed, and I am confounded: now iustly am I coun­ted a peele, being sed no waies better than by the deaw of teares: now am, I'improperly taken for a cedar, for the sweet sent of my blossome is va­nished, my fruit is decaid, the leaues of my delight are fallen, onelye in this I retaine thy nature, by reser­uing my griefe in force, & my com­passion to eternities. Oh what a wo is mine? What a sorrow is mine? If the Angels behold this face, they be­wail him; if the heauens look on this crueltie, they weepe for him: if the aire discouer it, it loureth: if the earth eie it, it renteth: What shall the mo­ther then doo, that hath behelde her sonne martyred, and could not suc­cour him: naked, & could not cloath him: thirsty, and could not comfort him: iniuried, and could not defend him: defamed, and coulde not aun­swere [Page] for him, spit vpon, and could not wipe him: finally, weeping, and could not comfort him. Out alasse, for teares I will paie teares, teares for former tragedies, teares for after pas­sion: teares for present miserie: tears in abundance, Gregorie teares with vsurie. Oh thou so excellent in holynesse, so mightie in power, and so merciful in pietie, how shal I more righfully be­waile thee, than in considering the wants I haue, beeing diuided from thee? I want thy presence to repayre my delights, I want thy counsell to inrich my soule, I want my ioye by wanting thee. Nay, what wanteth not the worlde by thine absence? The humble are turned to proude: the faithfull falne to Apostasie, Barnard the poore are despised: the iust, reuiled: the patient, spit at: the faithfull, af­flicted: deuotion, nowe is clothed with dissimulation: sanctimonie, with simonie: conscience, with co­uetousnesse: [Page] hypocrites wil be hum­ble without contempt: poore, with out defect: flatterers vnseene: enui­ous vnsuspected: slanderers, with­out cause: craftie as foxes within, humble as lambes without. Ahlasse, what confusion? What error? Thy scholers in humilitie haue forgotten their lesson, they will not learn of the bird, which before hee soareth to­wards heauen, humbleth his bodie to the earth, they will enter by thee as the gate, and wil not learne of thee because thou art humble. Thou hū ­blest thy selfe to thy equals, they de­spise their superiours. Bernar. li. de disp. & prec. The tree the more it aboundeth in fruit, the more it abaseth his bowes towardes the earth: but man the more he is raised by thy graces, the more hee resisteth against thy humilitie. Thy glorie is to submit, serue, and obey: mans de­sire is to gouerne, rule, & command. [Page] Thou sayest that all thing perisheth, if it be not kept with humilitie: they saie that nothing more breedeth cō ­tempt than obseruance. Thou bid­dest them flie honours: they affect them. Thou biddest them possesse their soules in feare: they deeme no­thing assured but in honour. Oh sweet Iesus, thou sayest that the gate of heauen is so straight, that no man laden with riches, no man fatned with delights, no man decked in pur­ple can be possest thereof before he be dispossessed of these vanities: but the worldling saith, that welth bree­deth happinesse, delightes lengthen life, rich clothing bringeth credit: so that they that possesse these, they vt­terly despise heauen. What shall I saie? the worlde is so fraught with pleasure, and auarice is so ful of pro­fite, that it is helde good pollicie to heare thee preach: but no wisedome [Page] to followe thy pouertie. Oh deare Lord, thou giuest thy self wholy vn­to them, and they wholie flie thee: if they are hungrie, thou art bread to them: if they are thirstie, thou art water to thē: if they are in darknes, thou are light vnto them: if they be naked, thou cloathest them: yet are they [...] grounded in vngratitude, that they forget thee. They knowe that what so euer the world is, Deut. 32 is ey­ther the desire of the flesh, or the de­sire of the eyes, or the pride of lyfe, yet pretēding to flie the world, they fansie nothing more earnestly. They knowe that a fatned, thicke, and di­lated body leaueth God, and forget­teth his creator: yet follow they sen­sualitie, and forget thee, eāmque mor­tuam; sayth the Psalme, neither cor­dially recorde they thy benefites. They knowe with Hermes, Libro de lo­gostileos. that thy acceptable & best incense is thanks­giuing, [Page] yet haue they learned with Iudas, to crucifie thee vngratefully. They knowe that they are blessed that haue not seene, Iohn 20 Apoc: 20 Iohn 8 and beleeue, yet hauing beheld thy passion, they de­spise it. They know the booke of life is opened, but they will not reade. They know that those which folow thee shall not walke in darknes se, yet take they pleasure to stumble in the daie time. Finally, they knowe that thou hast spred the light of thy coū ­tenance on them, yet preferre they darknes before light, to their owne damnation. The Naturalistes write, that Bats haue weake sight, because the humor Christaline, which is ne­cessarie for the eie to see with, is translated into the substance of the wings to flie with, whereupon they haue leatherne winges, and so for their flight sake, haue lost their sight, because that is substracted from the eies, which is imploied in the wings: [Page] These bats betoken these proud neg­lecters, who by how much the more they striue to flie, by so much more are they depriued of the grace of the diuine light, because all their inten­tion, which ought to bee in conside­ration of heauenly things, is transla­ted into the feathers of ambition, so that all their thought is howe they may ascend by degrees the steps of dignitie, not descende in imitation of thee, to the bosome of humilitie. O man, the cause of the Angells fall was negligence, the cause of Adams fall was negligence: why then art thou summoned so sweetly, & neg­lectest so carelesly? If men & angels created by God, had vsed his giftes orderly, the angels had neuer striued to surpasse God in excellence, nei­ther had man listned to the serpents perswasion, but because they were careles of his graces, he suffred thē to [Page] fall into errour by the sinne of negli­gence, and from the error of negly­gence, into the sinne of pride & dis­obedience. Beware man, by mans first falling, flie man the Angels neg­ligence, least by both thou winne a­postasie, and with apostasie, perditi­on. Wilt thou be frind of this world: thou art enemie to God? Wilt thou follow Beliall? thou art not for Ie­sus. Oh cast downe thy selfe, proud soule, whatsoeuer thou hopest, trust not the weaknes of thy power, since strength it selfe hath beene oppres­sed. Knowe that chastitie is hardned in delightes, truth in riches, and hu­militie in honours: iust, feare to fall: mercifull, feare obduration: conti­nence, feare lust: deuout, feare neg­ligence: with feare and trembling waxe you rich in Iesus, who wyth griefe and agonie hath indured for you.

Oh sinners, though nature can­not m [...]e you to sighs, (which is af­fecte [...] [...]y her obiects) let mee winne you by reasons, to ratifie your re­morse. If your friends come from far countries to visite you, you imbrace them: if they giue you giftes, you thanke them: if they counsell you, you consent vnto them: What then will you returne your sauiour & my sonne for his curtesies? Hee com­ming into the worlde, hath shewed you three principall signes of loue, mercie, and pietie. First, hee conde­scended to your mortalitie. Second­ly, hee prouided messengers of your saluation. Thirdly, he gaue you pre­cepts and admonishmentes of your welfare. He came from heauen, to comfort you on earth: hee suffered on earth to carrie you to heauen: he became the lowlyest amongst men, to make you the highest among cre­atures, [Page] hee hath visited you with his graces, giuing ease to your labour, comfort to your afflictions, salue to your infirmities: he hath presented you with gifts, not golde and siluer, which are corruptible, not pomp & honor, which seduce the senses, not securitie and vanitie, which corrupt the heart, but he hath broken his bo­die on the crosse for you, hee hath broken his bodie in the Sacrament for you, he hath giuen you the cup of attonement (his' precious bloud) hee hath made you one with God, by being generally condemned by the world, he hath counselled you to rise from sins, to make your bodies vessels of the holy Ghost, to sanctifie your soules in the bloud of his testa­ment, being made & approued iust: therefore you ought to loue him wholy, Americus Card: in prol: suo lib to whō you owe al what you are wholy. If you see an earthly king before you, you fal before his throne [Page] you humble your selfe before his iudgment, you subscribe to his law, and obey his ordinances: why de­spise you then the king of heauens? Math: 8 Phil. 2 to whom princes stoope, and whom the wind and sea obeyeth, to whom all knees both in heauen, earth, and hel are bowed. If you respect works, hee made heauen and earth: if the manner, of nothing: if the purpose, for vngratefull man, who being lord of all by him, will not acknowledge his due homage to him: if you di­spose your affections by the wisdom of your gouernors, who more wiser than Iesus? Where the Psalmist sayth, Great is the Lord our God, & mightie his vertue, and his wisdom is beyond number. And again, God is the God of sciences, 1, Reg. 2 & our thou­ghts are prepared vnto him: Who therefore is so wise & mightie as her that by wisdom discouereth al things [Page] and by power punisheth all offen­ces? How much wisedome and se­uetitie is in this Iudge? Who disco­uereth the thoughts of the hart, Rom: 1i kno­weth whereunto our imaginations are intended, measureth the waight of our sinnes, and how iniquities are chained together. Fnally, all are of him, by him, and in him. If wonders drawe your affections, who were wonderfull, looke on his birth, it is wonderfull aboue nature, without man, of a sole virgine: looke on his name, it is wonderfull: ( Iesus) by in­terpretation, a sauior. Yet more wō ­ders, a fraile man, and a strong God: a poore mans sonne, and the prince of peace, borne in time, and the per­petuall father of succeeding ages. Yet three more wonders. First, in those things which were spoken of him. Secōdly, in those things which were spoken by him. Thirdly, in [Page] those which were forespoken of him by the Patriarks and Prophets. Iacob prophesied his comming long before, The scepter shall not bee ta­ken from Iudah. Balaam called him the starre out of Iacob: they called him the flower, and the branch, on which flower the holy Ghost should haue his resting place. And is not this admirable? Wil you more won­der? Hear Elizabeth prophesie, hear Zacharie prophesie, the shephearde prophesie, the Sages prophesie. Yet more wonders. In his infansy his an­sweres were admirable, all testifie of him, maruell at his answere, applaud his prudence. Iohn 1 Luke 4 Mirabantur ludei quo­modo literas seisset Marke 20 Will you more won­ders. The people maruelled at him, saying, He hath done all things wel, hee hath made the deafe heare, and the dombe speake. Loue him there­fore as your Lorde, honour him as your king, who is admirable in his [Page] conception, admirable in his birth: admirable in his preachings, admi­rable in his passion, admirable in his death, admirable in his cha­ritie.

And to this loue (O remorse­lesse lookers on) adde teares, for no man can truelye loue, that is not af­fected, to see his beloued afflict­ed.

Come, Anselme come and weepe bit­terly with mee, for you haue much cause of lamentation. If loue can diuorce you from ingratitude, come and weep of pure loue: for my son hath therefore suffered, because he loued: if in iustice; come mollifie your hearts, behold an innocent re­prochfully crucified: if consangui­nitie can affect you, behold your fa­ther which hath begotten and cho­sen you before all eternities, reckned amongst theeues, rent by bloudthir­stie [Page] men, scourged by the guiltie: if you be abashed to see God so migh­tily brused, bewail your deadly sins, the causes of his detriment: if you wonder at his humilitie, blame your pride: if you admire his patience, condemn your wrath. As the mem­ber that feeleth no griefe, is sayde to bee dead, and the disease which is insensible, is alwayes vncurable: so vnlesse you partake in passion with Christ, lament to see him crucified, sorrowe to beholde his woundes, you are no liuing members, but dead ones: no true sonnes of his, but bastardes: if you suffer wyth him, you shall raigne with him: if you associate him in his passions, you shall partake wyth him in his consolations.

The Philosophers write, that the Harpie is a birde (hauing a [Page] mans [...]) so fell, cruell, and furi­ous, that beeing pressed and assaul­ted with hunger, she inuadeth & kil­leth a man: whome when shee hath deuoured, and whose bodie when she hath torne, beeing assailed wyth thirst, she flyeth to the water to drinke, where beholdin [...] [...] owne face, and remembring the simili­tude of him whome shee slew, shee is confounded with so much griefe, that shee dieth for dolour. Oh care­lesse worldlings, except ther be lesse remorse in you than in this crea­ture, looke into the spring of your consciences, lodge in your memo­rie howe much you haue crucified this Christ with your sinnes, & slain him by your offēces. & though you die not through extremitie of grief, yet let fall some teares to bewayle him tenderly.

Oh let not sinne take hold of you, [Page] idlenesse preuent you, or pride con­sound you, for trees that haue broa­dest leaues, doo soonest loose them, & men that haue proudest thoughts are soonest deceiued by them. Foo­lish that thou art, canst thou bewaile thy dead father that begot thee, thy sick sonne that delights thee, thy lost riches that maintained thee, & wilt not thou weepe for Iesus that redee­med thee? Canst thou grieue to see thy flockes perish, thy houses burn­ned, thy wise slaine, thy daughters defloured: and wilt thou not weepe to see thy God, who gaue these, con­founded with tormēts, thy comfor­ter that created these, suffer on the crosse: thy Iesus that lightneth thee, cloathed with death? Oh let not your gronings be hidden from him: praie with Iob, that thou mayest a little bewaile thy dolours, push forth thy teares of griefe, and make them [Page] flowe in abundaunce, for laughlng thou descendest to hel, but murning thou ascendest to heauen: Wilt thou haue Christ dwel with thee, Amb. hom: 1. lib. 1 mourn? Wilt thou haue Christe dwell in thee? mourne. Wilt thou haue sinne mortified in thee? mourn: Wilt thou haue grace plentyfull in thee? mourne. O remem­ber that Peter after hee had beway­led his apostasie, found greater grace by his teares, than hee lost by his de­niall.

Looke on Dauid the adulte­rer, hee weepeth, and is restored: Look on Agar the desolate, she wee­peth, and is comforted: Looke on weeping Anne, she recouereth her barrennesse.

Looke on mourning and weeping Iob, hee ouercommeth his temp­tations: mourning Ieremie prophe­sieth, the mourning Publicane is [Page] iustifyed, and mourning Ioseph is deliuered.

Oh teares of great worth, wor­king great thinges with GOD. By teares Marie obtayned the pardon of her sinnes: by teares shee obtai­ned the resurrection of her deade brother: for her teares sake, the Angelles came and comforted her: for her teares sake our Sauiour first appeared and shewed himselfe vnto her.

Great is the vertue and pow­er of teares, which tie the handes of the omnipotent, ouercome the inuincible, appease the wrath and indignation of the Iudge, and doth change and conuert it into mer­cie.

Hee that standeth on a profound and deepe pit, sayeth the Philo­sopher, seeth the stars at noonstead: [Page] where hee that standeth on the face of the earth, seeth not one starre in so great a light: In like maner, he that is placed in the deapth of humilitie, teares, sighs, and tribulation, sigheth to heauen, and summoneth God by his cries: but hee that standeth in the light of this worlde, and in the brightnesse of worldlye lasciuious­nesse, can see no star, or retaine anie grace. 1 Dionisius. Shall I teach you how to be­waile Christ? First loue him, for loue vniteth things together, drawing all mans interest from himself, and pla­cing it in another: when thou art conuerted into Christ, then mayest thou truely bewaile him. For the losse of things then neerest touch vs, when they are best knowee vnto vs. Those that are one in affection, are one in passiō, one in desires, one in teares, one in loue, one in sorrow, one in minde, one in martyrdome: [Page] mockers martyr Christ, penitents weep for him, blasphemeis crucifie him, the sorrowfull are comforted by him, O men, learne and vnder­stand this, our Lord suffered of will, not of necessitie, and hee indured of commiseration, we in condition: his voluntarie passion therefore, is our necessarie consolation, that being af­flicted as hee was, we may be confi­dent as he was. Will you know the hunger and thirst of this aduocate? Ahlasse, hee scarce found one theese on the gallowes whome hee might taft: his Apostles are fled from him, and hid them in the throng: Peter that promised to perseuer till death, hath denied him. Wherevpon then shall hee feed, if all soules flie him? Nay, howe can hee hope orf loue, where none weep for him? Oh man thou art made iust by the iustice of God? Thou art saued gtatis, and not [Page] by thy graces: thou hast none to flie to, but to him in necessities, thou hast no life but it proceedeth from him: vnder the Sunne thou hast no­thing but watching, sleeping, eating drinking, hunger, thirst, growth, weaknes, infancy, childhood, youth, age, and all these hee gaue thee. A­boue the Sunne, thou hast inuisible faith, August in Psalm 38 inuisible hope, inuisible chari­tie, inuisible bountie, inuisible feare in holynesse, which he willingly of­fereth thee. Oh then giue him teares for his treasures, a small interest for so great riches. Oh yee sinful race of men, what are you but a sacke of ne­cessities? Ahlasse, what necessities are these? Not to knowe anothers heart, to thinke ill oftentimes of a faithfull friend, to thinke well often­times of a dissembling enemie? O hard necessitie! yet another harder. Thou knowest not what thou shalt be tomorow. O greatest miserie! yet another harder. Thou must needes [Page] die: O harde necessitie! not to wyll that which thou canst not escape? In this confusion what canst thou man? Whether art thou carried? How art thou bannished? Crie and crie out, vnhappie man that I am, who shall deliuer mee from these? Who shall aunswere thee? Who shall helpe thee? Not ambition, for it is blinde: not lust, for it hastens death: not wrath, for it subdueth reason: not the infirmities of the world, for they are all fraile: It must be humble Iesus then, that must heal these imperfectious, recouer these necessities, & determine these daun­gers, to whom thou no sooner canst offer teares, but he sodainly sendeth remedies. Oh what hart can bee so hardned? August in Psalm 10 What mind so obdurate? What soul so sensles, that beholding a prince in his owne kingdome, a­mongst his owne subiects, massacred [Page] by his owne sonne, wil not grieue at it: by how much reason then (ō you bond slaues of sinne) should you be sorrowfull, that see a prince, not slaughtered in his owne kingdome, but vniustly murthred in the world, not among his subiectes, but his bre­thien: not by his sonnes onely, but sonnes, seruants, and liegemen: nay, which is more, not for his owne of­fence, his owne default, his owne er­rour, but for their sinnes onely who persecute him onely. Oh wonderful charitie, Christ spreadeth his armes to imbrace those that spit at him, o­peneth his woūds to intertain those that will enter, offereth his bloud to ran some them that shedde it, giueth his flesh to bee eaten, to those that mangled it: he praieth for theyr of­fences that fastned him to the crosse, August in Psalm 41 he made their sinnes his sinne, that hee might make his iustice their iu­stice. [Page] Oh if there be anie kindnesse in thee (man) thinke on these benefits: looke, looke about thee, consider the waight of thy offences, which stops the Fathers cares, though the sonne crieth, Make Christ sweat water and bloud for verie agonie in bearing them, make heauen, and earth, and all creatures breake out in miracles to beholde them. Iob vppon the de­uils request, Iob i was lefte to him to bee tempted, and after his long patience receiued blessinges two folde: but our Lord was whipte, and no man helped him: foulely spit vppon, and no man succoured him: lewdly buf­fetted, and no man regarded him: crowned with thornes, and no man pittied him: nailed to the crosse, and no man deliuered him: hee cryed, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? and was not succored. Why oh good Iesu, whence came [Page] these thinges? For what cause suffe­redst thou all this? To what end are all these torments? Why cryed the Iewes, Crucifie, crucifie? Why wert thou poured out like water? Why were all thy bones dispearsed? Why became thy heart like melting wax? Why cleaued thy tong to thy roof? Why diuided they thy garments & cast lots on thy vesture? O Christ, the sonne of God, if thou wouldest not, thou shuldest not haue suffred: shew vs therfore the fruit of this thy passion: It was thy sinne (O sinner) that caused this, it was thy disobedi­ence to God that was punished in Gods sonne: to shew the horrour of thy offence, power was made deso­late. Oh stony heart be not so obsti­nate, let teares drop from thine eyes to recompence the bloud pouring from his wounds: sigh bitterly with him that praied earnestlye for thee. [Page] What is this sinne, sayest thou, that inforceth such a sacrifice? That which maketh all men in the world flie from their saluation, August. li: 12 de ciuitate Dei and runne after theyr owne concupiscences without anie feare: that which lead­eth men downe to hell, that which blindeth the vnderstanding, that which maketh men like vnto foolish beastes: for as beastes incline them­selues to earthly pleasures, so sinners betroth themselues to worldly de­sires: that which maketh men seeke onely those things which are of the flesh, that which maketh men esteem their belly for their God. Sinners are compared to hogs by their de­tracting, for as the hogge deuoureth doung, so detracting & sinfull men, other mens sinnes and filthines: For lecherie they are compared vnto a horse: Phil 30 Rom: 8 for folly and slownesse to an asse: for their solicitude & worldlie [Page] care, to an oxe: for their curious cō ­uersations, to an ape: for their incon­siderate boldnes, to a lyon: for their crueltie, to a beare: for their vanitie, to libards: for their crafte, to a foxe. Sinne is the trangression of the laws of God, Numquid potest Athiops mutare pellem suain aui paidus varietate [...] and the disobedience of his commandements: Sinne, is the con­trarie to nature: sinne draweth vs from the soueraigne good, to make vs subiect to brittle, fraile, and muta­ble pleasures. Ambrose li. de pa [...]ad: ho. 32 quest. 133 art. 1 [...]ay [...]9 Plato in Gorgia Sinne diuideth vs from God. To conclude, (as the Ethnike witnesseth) the sinner is onely mise­rable: Sinne depriueth man of eter­nall beatitude, banisheth him from heauen, confineth him with hell, de­spoileth him of graces, exileth him from paradice. Briefely, it maketh him the most miserable amongest miserable. Sinne peruerteth the or­der of nature, impugneth our rea­son, vigeth our sensualitie: sin blin­deth [Page] the spirite, darkneth the vnder­standing (ordained to contemplate spirituall things:) Sinne soileth and infecteth the solue, depriueth it of her nuptiall garment, and maketh it filthie and loathsome: according to that of the Prophet, Denigrata est su­per carbones facies eius. Sinne after it hath blinded the vnderstanding, har­deneth the heart, and maketh obsti­nate in iniquitie: whence commeth the habitude of sinne, which is the extremitie of sinne, and as Philo­sophers conclude, another nature. Hee that sinneth, whatsoeuer he be, either king in his diadem, Abissus abis­sum inuocat Psalm 41 Ex frequen­tatione actu um geneta­tur habitus Arist Categ Rom. 6 Iohn 8 prince in his purple, poore, in his miserie, he is the slaue of sinne: who therefore by sinne is giuen ouer as a praie to vi­ces, looseth his libertie, and cannot resist his vnhappines. See sinner, see, what horror, what confusion? Look with what foes you are inuironed, [Page] that you may knowe the greatnes of your deliuerance: you are vncura­ble by sinne, & Christ healeth you: you are separated from God, from the Angels, from the Patriarkes, Pro­phets, Apostles, and Martyrs, by sin, and Iesus restoreth you: you are impouerished by sinne, and hee inricheth you: you are made abhominable, and hee blesseth you.

O if you knewe howe abiecte & wretched a sinfull soule is, you woulde resist it, (saieth a father,) e­uen vnto the death. Waries, plagues, famine (the whips of God) sicknesse, dishonours, and aduersity, (the tooles of his correction) howe light trifles are these in comparison of loathsome sinne? Tyrannies, iniu­ries, oppressions, the fury of the fire, the danger of water, the contagion of aire, the trembling of the earth, [Page] finally, all the complements of euils which persecute man, proceed from sinne: so that rightlye it maye bee sayde, Quicquid patimur pec­cata nostra merue [...]t all that which the wretch­ed suffer, their sinnes haue deserued it. Oh the horrour of sinne, oh the terrible issues thereof: wret­ched men take heede and looke about you, let your haires stand vp­right for verie fright, and let your bloud flie to your heart, to comfort it in the extremity of your thoughts, no punishment can satisfie for it, no death can recompence for it, but the flames of hell eternall in theyr extremitie, extreame in their eter­nitie.

Oh harde hearted soules, solde and quite giuen ouer to your owne sensualities, beholde the issues of your euill liues, beholde your mar­tirdomes for crucifying Christ, if you reconcile not & weep with him [Page] you shall haue perpetuall darknesse without light, you shall be depriued of Gods presence, (a greater tormēt to the damned than may be expres­sed) fire shall burne you vnquencha­bly, darknes shall blind you vnsepa­rably, conscience shal accuse you in­cessantly, deuills shall persecute you eternally, cries, cursinges, and blas­phemies shall hant you continually, desolation and discomfort shall de­taine you perpetually. Finally, with­out remorse in life, there is no re­demption after death. O Iesus my son, how rich art thou in compassiō, thou onely healest these wounds, & recouerest these harmes. It is thou onely that canst dull the sting of this death, thy bloud onely satisfieth for these defaults. Ah deare Lord, thou art worthie of teares, thou deseruest remorse, thou hast purchased com­passion. Oh woful spectacle for men [Page] to weepe at, for angels to sigh at. Oh sacrifice for sinne, O attonement for offences, oh seale of redemption. O contemplation to extort teares, to behold innocencie martired with so many and grieuous wounds. Oh li­bertie taken prisoner, oh truth accu­sed, oh innocencie whipped, oh iu­stice condemned, oh glorie discruci­ate, oh life dead and crucified: oh highnesse of charitie, oh basenesse of humilitie, oh greatnes of mercie, oh excesse of bountie. Thou hast wept for all, Granaten. & art bewailed of none: thou hast borne many hurts, to cure a few hearts: thou hast bene a corrosiue to thy mother, to be a cordiall to men: but men weepe thee not, they passe by wagging their heads at my woe, & hiding their faces, least they shuld be inforced to bewaile thee. Theyr hearts are become adamants, & loa­thing to spende teares themselues, [Page] they grieue to grace my teares by hearkning to them. Ah heauenly fa­ther, let me consume with sorrow till I see him: let my life passe like a tale that is told: let my soul (that mourn­eth within me) giue a libel of diuorce to this flesh, that I in spirit may seeke him out, who in the flesh did glorifie me. Thou that rainedst vppon the earth fortie daies, to reuenge thee on the rebellious, open the cloudes of thy compassion ouer mee, that they weeping on mee, and I with them, I may be drowned in them, innocen­cie may be quickned by me. All Iu­dah & Israel mourned for Iosiaz, Paral. 15 & shall teares want to bewaile Iesus? See my sonne, I will beare thy crosse on my shoulders, imprint thy passi­sions in my heart: I will beat so long vpon my breast, that the eccho ther­of shall pearce all eares: I will sigh so long, till the furnace of my charitie [Page] steame out my hart, and the winged chast affections of my soul, soare hea­uens, search earth, finde my sonne, or forsake my soule. Ah my son, no Absolon a sinner, but Iesus a sauiour. The root of my hope is waxed olde, and the stocke thereof is dead in the ground; When shal these closed eies open to warme him as his sonne? When shall thy breath quicken and cheere my barrennesse, the daies of my desolation are come. The bles­sedst amongest women, is now the miserablest amongst mothers. Grief hath brought mee to deaths doore, (my sonne) but death will not let me enter, oh then shewe thy deitie to helpe thy mother, and let me die in this desolate flesh, to liue in thy di­uine bodie, the ioy in possessing the one, shall temper the losse of the o­ther, and dying in my selfe to giue thee life, I shall liue in death by reason of thy lyfe. O Lorde [Page] Lord of my life, how hath zeal made mee presume? no soule meriteth to dwel in this body but thine own: thus impatience in loue, makes mee too much presume for loue: Fruites long time shut in their buds, by rain, deawe, and sunne are made to blos­some: riuers closde in then bounds by huge windes, are forced to ouer­lope the bankes. The Ostridge by helpe of the Sun and sand, breaketh the shell: ripen then (thou roote of mine) for the raine of remorse hath watered thee, the deaw of compassi­on hath wet thee, the sunne of my zeale and charitie hath looked on thee, and inflamed thee: rise & rouse thy selfe thou riuer of God, for the windes of my sighs haue summoned thee: ouerbeare death, holye spring of happines, and let the waters of life issue from thee. Breake the shell of death, thou that fastedst in the de­sart, [Page] and let the sunne of my desire quicken the sun of vnderstanding, be not to long in conquering death, least I loose life in wailing thy death. How long ô Lorde, howe long wilt thou delay? Shall death neuer haue end, because my life may be deuou­red in death? Wilt thou not awake like a strong warriour, to conquere these passions with combat with thy mothers heart? Set thine axe to the tree of my sorrowe, let mine eyes which bewaile thee dead, beholde thee liuing; let mine eares, which are scard with mine owne clamors, bee consolated by thy counsels: let mee smell thee the rose, and see thee the lilly richly clothed: let me tast howe sweet the Lord is: let me touch him, whose absence toucheth mee at the hart: let my imagination be the vsh­er, to present thee, my memorie, the painter, to describe thee, my conside­ration [Page] the fire to kindle loue. Let hell, hunger, thirst, weepe and waile, come thou and ioy with Israel, thou hast not to doo with Aegypt. Come thou corner stone, and let me builde on thee, wed me to death, so thou re­turne to life, I cannot want thee. I will not misse thee, my loue is so fer­uent, as it neither measures iudge­ment, or regardeth counsel, or is bri­deled by shame, Bernard or subiect to reason: come yeeld me peace with a kisse of thy mouth, and let my importunacy work more with thee than all expec­tation can require. Lēd me the cloak of thy presence, to diuide the waters of my woes: let thy mother bee as strong as thy prophet, that by pray­ing to our Lorde with teares, by put­ting my mouth on thy mouth, 4: Reg. [...] by fastning mine eies to thine eies, by closing my handes in thy handes, I may make the flesh of my sonne wax [Page] warme: as he warmed the flesh of the Sunamites child, then gasping seuen times I wold kisse thee seuētie times seuen, & seeme more thy louer than thy mother. I wold expostulate with thee of thine absence, and if thy wounds fell new a bleeding, I would wash them with my teares; my hairs should dry them, my lips should suck them, thou shouldest make me more than a mother, in recouering mee an absent sonne. Well Lorde, if thou denyest that I want, I will reioyce in that I haue, I wil symbolise thy body with mine, and quicken thy passion by my sufferance: There shal no sor­row be hid from mine eies, till I see thy eyes open, and till the eies of our Lord quicken mee, the eie of poore Marie shall see no comfort: mine eie shal onely see by supposing thine eie seeth: all pleasures shal be smoake to mine eies, till thy eies doo beholde [Page] them: till thy eies bee waking, mine eies shall be weeping, and vnles they grow open, Eccles. 21 I will shut mine eies with sorrow. I will set a sure seale vppon my lips, [...] 4 till thy lips salute me, & my lips shall become white as the lilly, til thy lips grow crimson like a rose co­loured riband. 1. b 5 My vnsained lips shal bee tired with praier, till such time I may inioy thy desired presence: my handes shall neuer vnfolde, till the hands of my Lord be extended: I wil neuer deliuer thy bodie out of my hands, till thou deliuer my soule out of her sorrow: I will lay my hand vp­pon my mouth, till thou speakest, & neuer wil I cease to lift vp my hands to heauen, till thy hands haue imbra­ced me on earth: till thou put foorth thy hand, I will leane my head vpon my hande, and till thy fingers touch me, my heart shall bee touched with sorrow: the wings of the cherubines [Page] touched one another, ô let the wings of my charity touch the wings of my life, both are allied, both loue. They that touched the hem of thy vesture, recouered from their sicknesse, shall not I touch thy bodie to recouer me of my sorrow? The bodie which liue­les touched the bones of Elisa, 4. Reg: 13 were restored to life; and shall my hands touch thee, my lippes kisse thee, my loue importune thee, and thou not liue? Arist. libro Phil. 1 All heauie thinges by nature search the center, I am in the abun­dance of my heauinesse, and cannot descend into the graue: I will glo­rie in tribulation, 2 Corint. 12 so thou grace me in thy life. My soule is in bitter­nesse, and heauie captiuitie, oh make my burden light, by once looking on mee. Ieremy 6 The Iewes by smiting haue wounded thee, thou by absence hast wounded mee, sorrow and wounds are euer in my sight: touch I thy [Page] browe, thornes haue wounded it: kisse I thy cheekes, crimson hath for­saken them, thy sides are wounded, thy hands are wounded, thy feet are wounded, my wounds cannot bee hid till thy wounds be healed, Marke 11 and til thou liue to recure mee, I shall die thorough wanting thee. Thou hast promised that whatsoeuer wee shall faithfully aske in thy name, thou wilt grant it vs. Then ô Iesu, my sonne, my cōforter, I coniure thee by thine owne name Iesus, to blunt and abate the sting of death, to breake vp and dispearse the cloudes of darknes, and appearing like a fair morning starre, quicken the dead comfort of thy mother, and giue a light to this deso­late and dismaide worlde. Shew the light of thy countenance, and I shall be whole. O Lord my redeemer, tar­rie not, my soule thirsteth after thee my sonne, & as the hart desireth the [Page] hart desireth the water brookes, euen so my soule longeth after thee my God. Appeare then thou chief shep­heard, 2: Pet: 5 thy flocks saint without thee. Apparell thy selfe with life, to appa­rell our hearts with ioy: my eies long fore for thy sight, oh when wilt thou comfort me. Psal: [...] Ies [...] 9

O who will giue my head wa­ter inough, and a spring of teares for mine eies, that I may weepe daie & night for the absence of my son? Ahlas, ahlas, sorow increaseth in me, and heauinesse swalloweth vp my soule: my teares are like seede in a barren ground, the garden of my de­light is become a desart of sorrow, I am like a mother bemourning her child, because he is not. Oh thou an­gell of peace, come and succour me: Ah my sonne, the happinesse in bea­ring thee, is buried through the hea­uinesse in missing thee: and the hope [Page] I conceiued of thy life, is preuented by thy lamentable death. Wo is me, I am sicke to the death, to see thee dead, I am sicke for loue, and desire to hasten thy life. Wilt thou lifte the poore out of the dust, Phil.23 and leaue thy mother in desolation? Oh lifte vp thine eies, and see howe the mother lifteth vp her voice and weepeth! Cant: 8 Oh loue, if thou art mightier than death, now shew thy power, lighten the lampe of his life, at the candle of my charitie: Poure the oyle of thy compassion into these wounds, and heale them, breath the breath of life into him by imbraces and kissing: as I claspe mine armes, let him gaspe & breath: as I weep on his face, let him sucke vp my teares: O death, if thou be more pittifull than loue, imprison thy dart in my heart, & ransome my sonne. Ahlas the fairest among men, loue will not lend him me, death wil [Page] not grant him me, his mother must be onely kinde, and her best tributes are but teares, prayers, kisses, and wi­shes. Ah Bethelem, mourn with me, and you inhabitants of Iuda, put on sackcloth, for sorrow is come vppon you, and the voice of the mourner must ring in your streetes, houle and lament Ierusalem, weepe the teares of contrition, sigh, sob, & complaine you, he that loued you lost his lyfe, he that wept for you, is dead for you: hee that praied for you, is plagued for you. Ah crosse that hast made my sonne a martyr, and mee a mourner! Ah crosse that art the meane of my griefe: Ah crosse, the cause of crosse, I must kisse thee, & accuse thee. See, see, thou art honoured by my Iesus name, his purple drops of blud dwel in thee, thou diddest kisse his bodie, his warme bodie, and for these cau­ses I kisse thee. But cruel crosse, since [Page] all thy trophies are cause of my trou­ble: thy titles, the occasions of my teares: let me accuse thee, which hast honored thy selfe, and left me com­fortlesse: yet art thou kinde to me in listning my complaintes, and but in bearing the name of Iesus in thy front, thou hast alreadie recouered my fauour. O crosse, the image of mortification, Bernard the tree of redempti­on, the bond of peace, the seal of the couenant, I will crosse mine armes to imbrace thee. Crosse, all my ioyes to containe thee, I will be a crosse to mine owne soule, if it seeke thee not, and count euerie comfort a crosse, that is not crost by thee. I will crosse the seas of tribulation to incounter thee, & whilst I hold thee holy crosse I will count no crosse too cruell: I that bare my sonne, will holde it for no base benefit to beare his crosse, [...]: 4 & the onely glorying in the crosse of [Page] Christ crucified, shal be my best bles­sing: my loue shall fasten mee to my sonnes crosse, and in that he vouch­safed a crosse, Col: 1 I will esteeme no glo­rie but in his crosse. O sonne, the words of thy wisedome were pricks and nailes to my meditation: these fastned thee vnto me in all assaultes of sorrowe, and those nailes which nailed thy handes and feete to the crosse, shall nail my soul & thoughts to thy crosse, & with my nailes I will dig my owne graue, before I forsake those nails which forced thy hands: Like as a nail in the wall sticketh fast, so fastly shall the nailes of thy martir­dome sticke in my heart: Eccle. 27 I will naile vp my soule from all ioy, because the naile that issued from Iuda is bro­ken: my flesh is torne with thornes, Zach: 16 because thy forehead is rent wyth thornes: the thornes of tribulation persecute me, because the thornes of [Page] martirdome pearceth, I will hedge in my heart with thornes, because they haue hemd in thy braines with thornes. Whether vnto extendeth my sorrowe? If it was thy loue that madest thee suffer, it becommeth my loue to suffer with thee: Iob 81 and since thou giuest mee an example of pati­ence, why should I not preserue the same? Though the shadow of death ouerspred thine eies, hope saith they shall be lightned: though thy life be nowe like the darke night, it shortly shall be as cleere as the noone daie, yea, thou shalt shine forth and bee as the morning.

The shepheards after great storms wait for faire weather: the souldiers after dreadfull warre, expect happie peace: the sentinell after his colde watch, attendeth, and intendeth his desired and wished sleepe: pleasures are the heires of displeasures, & com­fort [Page] treadeth on the heele of care. Why expostulate I then with death? who hauing a time to tyrannize, shal at last be lead in triumph: the storms of afflictions shall bee calmed, the warres of rufull wailing, shall haue a peacefull delight: these watchfull complaints and attendings to see my loue, shal at last be quieted, and I shal laie me downe and take my rest, for my Lord shall come, and cause mee to dwell in safetie. Brieftie, all teares shal be wiped from mine eies, deaths sting shall bee dulled, lifes triumph shall bee established, sorrowe shall be disinherited, and maiestie reui­ued.

Oh my charitie, how much do­est thou helpe mee in this? my faith onely presenteth mee wyth all these hopes, as it were vnder a vaile, my hope beholdeth my sonne (& these future prophesies of him (as the [Page] chiefest good (which as yet vnpos­sessed she hopeth to inioy) but thou my charitie makest all these ioyes present, so that I behold effectuallye thinges before thy bee, and craue no interest in beleefe, whereas my loue assures mee all is present. Ah that the aduersitie of an houre shoulde make mee thus forget the pleasures I had in lyfe? when I lulled thee in my lap my son, fostered thee at these teates, followed thee in trauels, fedde with thee in Aegypt: Then, ô then what sweetnes inioyed I in thy presence: what comfort in thy counsels, what courage in extreams? Ah but if it be true, that thinges the dearer they are loued, breed the more hart griefe by their losse: howe can I choose but waile, that hauing had pleasure to wrappe thee in thy swathing bands, must nowe to my discomfort, close thee in thy winding sheete: Can [Page] the want of thy companie, the lacke of thy counsells, the muficke of thy preachings, the miracles in thy lyfe, the charitie in thy death be expiated but with another death, or answered with a few sighs? Ah this aduersitie of an hour (in other mens thoughts) is an age in mine. Compare the age of thy pleasure, to one minute of the griefe, and it exceedeth it. The earth for a little trauell rewardeth the hus­bandman with a huge crop, Tul ▪ Offi. 1; and shal I bee more vnkind than the earth, to the king of the heauens (who as the beam in the glasse, hath inriched my wombe, and annointed me with the oyle of gladnesse aboue my felows) shall I requite his kindnesse & great mercies with a few faint teares? No my charitie shall not let me, my loue shall suffer my griefe to exceed her, and reason shall surrender his Lord­ship to passion, sufficeth it my son, [Page] that in spirit I assure mee of thy life; yet in flesh whilest thou art absent, & dwellest with death, let mee bewaile thee, (for humane weaknesse requi­reth a little more weeping. Of one spark, (saith the wise man) is made a great fire, of one kernell a large tree, of one grain of mustard seed, a great and grosse number: why then shuld not one care beget another, one tear produce multitudes, one sighe in­force stormes, wherethorough my griefe might bee endlesse in lament­ing, my teares ceaselesse in weeping, and my sighs incessant in their dou­bling? Hanna was troubled in her minde, and wept sore to get a sonne, and shuld not Marie be tormented in soule, and weep instantly that hath left a sonne? Achsah married to O­thouiel, humbled her selfe before her father, and sayd, Giue me a blessing, thou hast giuen mee a South lande, [Page] giue mee also springes of water. As Achsah to Caleb her father, so I to shee my God; Greg. libro [...] Dialog. thou hast giuen mee a South land of desolation, wherin the fruits of hope are barre, the blossoms of ioyes are blasted: Oh giue mee therefore a well spring of teares, to water this wast, that my hopes maye ripe by my ruth, and my ioyes maye bloome after their blasting. Iosiah considering the long absence & con­cealment of the bookes of the lawe, rent his garments for griefe, & wept bitterly: Wonder not therefore ô ye men of Israel, though Marie rent hir heart, rent her hairs, rent hir clothes, for the hath lost & long wanted, the Lord of the lawe, the maker of Mo­ses, the father of the people, the passe­ouer and pledge of mans redempti­on. As the hand which is filled with oue thing, can receiue and containe no other thing, August. so my heart being fil­led [Page] with the loue of this absent Christ, the griefe in wanting him, & the woundes that wounde him) can loue nothing better than to la­ment him: can grieue at nothing else but his want: finally, my eyes pre­senting his woundes to the conside­ration of the same, my thoughts are wounded, by dwelling in my heart, my heart is wounded by containing my thoughts, and both are wound­ed in imagining his wounds: yea, they are so filled with compassion, that they yeeld no place to consola­tion. Why then begette not these griefefull thoughtes more griefefull thoughts: these teares, more teares: these sighes, more sighes: which ha­uing onelye emperie in my heart, maye giue place to no ioye, but breake the circumference that in­closeth them in in the centre of care, and getting better freedome to pro­duce [Page] more, they maye in theyr e­ternitie make mee more miserable, and my moane more fruitful', my sorrowe more plentifull, thorough the foisons of my misfortune. Ah Marie, thou canst not make thine a­bilitie aunswerable to thy will, thy life hath limites, and must limite thy teares. Hee that bindeth the flouds that they ouerflow not, boun­deth thy teares. Thou hast wept to the vtterance, thou hast no more to vtter: the darknes must once come to an end, the cloudes must at last bee dissolued, and euerie thing must end at his appointed time, and as there is a time to bemoane, so lyke­wyse there is a time to bee mer­rie.

If thou weepe tyll thou weepe a­waie lyfe, and crie till thy dayes bee consumed and quite wasted, a daie shal come to determine both? What [Page] shall I become a comforter? or giue a lawe to my remorse, who cannot comprehend my losse? No mine eies weepe on, whilest I haue a time to liue, giue no tearme to your teares: as fast as you weep them, my braines shall distill them, the fire of my loue shall helpe to distill them, they can­not cease till I die, and beeing dead, what need I seeke to bewaile, his ab­sence, being assured of his presence? Th̄e til I die I wil not cease to weep, that being dead, I may behold him, & whilest I liue, I will count all food vaine, till I feede on his presence. If mine eies growe wearie, my sighes shall assist them, and when both of them are infeebled, my cries shall be inforced: in the hollow of his sepul­chre I wil execute these drirements, and I will exclaime so long on death till I make him deafe with hearing me. Make him deafe poore Marie? [Page] Ahlas, he is alwaies deafe and insen­sible, it were a second death to assault him: hee is not tamed by intreaties, tempted by perswasions, bribed by benefits, or allured by lamentations, tearmes please him not, tears pearce him not, it were an endlesse labour, a fruitlesse worke. Oh my sonne, how am I discruciate for thee, I woulde worke, I know not what, to win thee I know not how, I wold end my sor­row, and desire to begin it, I woulde beare thee to thy graue, could I cease to imbrace thee, I would complaine of my desires, so I might appease them, and conquer my affections, so I might command them: but flames that are 'quickly kindled, are hardly quenched, and where oyle seeds the lampe of sorrowe, it will hardly bee extinguished. My sighs preuent my teares, and inforce them to issue, my teares preuent my thoughts, & make [Page] them impatient, my thoughtes pre­uent my reason, and admit no mo­deration, my reason would preuent all this, but loue preuenteth it: my loue beeing of it selfe firie, will not cease burning till it imbrace thee, flaming, till it find thee out: my cha­ritie is soueraigne of all my delights, she wils mee die to liue with thee: And as in Salomons temple there, there was nothing that was not co­uered with golde, so is there not a­nie parte, sense, motion, or action in me, or the liuing temple of my soul, which is not inuested with loue, clo­thed with charity, which hauing the nature of fire, (which is the most ac­tiue of all elementes) is neuer idle, but reuiueth teares when they are extinct, quickneth sighs when they cease: armeth thoughtes, when they are dismaide: and forceth reason when shee fainteth. As the roote is [Page] to the tree, the soule to the bodie, the sunne to the worlde: such are thou to mee, O my sonne: the boughs are not clothed with green, except they bee vnited to the root: the members inioye no lyfe, ex­cept they be imformed by the soule: the worlde partaketh no light, ex­cepte the Sunne illuminateth and lightneth the same: so my bodie inioyeth no lyfe except thou liue in mee, mine eyes no delight, excepte thou loooke vppon them, my thoughtes no cleere and perfect vn­derstanding, vnlesse thou beautifie and beholde them. Briefely, I can­not bee mine owne without thee, I cannot liue, thou beeing dead, I cannot leaue weeping teares, vn­till thou come and wipe awaie my teares. Hee that truely loueth (saith the Philosopher) is dead in his owne [Page] bodie, and liueth in anothers: then how commeth it to passe my sonne, Arist: Polit: 1 (if this reason doo holde) that I liue not in thee, who loue thee so dearly? If it be true, that ther are two tearms in all motions, the one from whence the thing parteth, the other whether it is resorted: why is it not this lyfe that hath lefte thee, incorporated in my bodie? and my life which should forsake my bodie, possessed of thine? Our loues are in the highest degree perfect, why haue not then these causes their effects? Why liuest thou not my sonne? Why moue not these handes with mine? Why stirres not this hart with mine? Why open not these eyes with mine? Why speakes not this mouth with mine? Oh my God, except it bee imperfection of my bodie, I know nothing can with­drawe thy lyfe from me. By it I liue, [Page] by thy spirit my spirit breatheth, on­ly my life is not in thy body, because it is vnworthie to expresse it, vnwor­thie to animate thy heart, open thine eyes, quicken thy handes and tongue: and thy life is not in mine, because my bodie is vnable to con­tain it: yet a sparke of thy spirit is my loue, and a beame of this loue is my desire, which by kisses I breath into thy lippes, which though it actually worke not in thee, yet by effectuall wil, I wish it in thee. What I can giue of my life, I lauishly haue spent on thee, my life liueth in my bodie, though my body liue not, til thy bo­die inioy life, the life of my bodie is liuelesse, onely my charitie which is in me, taken from thee (who art the tree' of life, and fountaine of charity) maketh my bodie liuing in spight of my will, and inforceth all my senses [Page] (through vehemencie of my spirit,) to worke theyr offices in a liuelesse body, and a hartlesse creature, which liueth onelie by thee, and cannot liue but in thee: so if I liue, I liue for­cibly, till thou liue. And to verefie this philosophie (in that I loue thee truly) I leaue my selfe to liue in thee, & onely by the liuing charity which is in me, my handes imbrace thee, as they doo, mine eies bewaile thee with teares, and euerie other parte worketh as thou wouldest. Ah Lord now see I the reason of my deadlie lyfe, and thy wounding death: thou the hope of the disconsolate, art cru­cified. thou the fountaine of life, art troubled: how can my life then bee fruitfull, who was ingraffed by thee, Or thy death bee but wounding, when thou the fountayne (by whom I liue) art dried vp by death? [Page] If of contraries, there growe a con­trarie reason, why shoulde I feare? The wicked (sayth Iob) shall neuer departe out of darknesse, the flame shall drie vp their branches, with the blasts of Gods mouth shall they bee taken awaie. What then shall be­come of the godly? If the wicked dwell in darknesse, they shall inioye light? If the flame dry vp their bran­ches, the children of the righteous shall bee like Oliue branches: if the godlesse be blasted by Gods mouth, the innocent shall bee blessed with his benefites: Then what shoulde I feare? And what not hope? Thou knowest me (ô Lord my father) how I have conceiued in' innocencie, and hated the workes of darknesse: thou knowest my sonne hath suffered in innocencie, let therefore the fruit of my wombe florish, let thy promises be accomplished in Iacob, & thy co­uenant in Israel.

Though death hath blasted the branch, by a winter of others sinne, let the spring of thy mercie comfort the roote, and animate the bowes, so shall thy terrors and promises be ac­cōmplished in both sortes. The waight of their shames shall weigh downe the euill: the workes of the iust shall preuaile before thy mercie seate. There are two teares, O Lorde, wherewith thou art pleased, the one of ioy and praise, the other of sorow and lamentation: I wepte the teares of ioye when thou blessedst my wombe, I weepe the tears of sorow, because the hope of my daies is de­caid. Quicken him O Lord, and in­courage mee, and as I receiued him with delight, nourished him with care, wept for him with ioy, and lost him with griefe: so let mee recouer him with cōfort, who wept for him through discontent & losse, and be­hold [Page] him in his resurrection, and tri­umph in his ascention, that pleasing In either sort of teares, I maye praise thee for both sortes of mercie. O my bodie, thou hast passed the wilder­nesse of woe, no rocke hath beene so kinde to yeeld thee an eccho, my on­ly breast by often beating on, hath ecchoed my stripes, so that in my self I haue had the cause of complaint, & report. Oh my soule, thou hast been sifted by incessant sorrow, all thy in­tellectual powers & discurfiue parts, haue beene plagued by themselues, and supposing their weale lost, they intertaine no hope to come.

Thus plagued in bodie and di­stressed in soule, sate poore Marie (a holy and happie virgin) enacting hir griefe with her armes, when she had ouerforced both her tongue and eies with compassion: briefely, her paine & impatience beeing so great [Page] as her wordes could not expresse it, hir desires so importunat, as they ex­ceeded all her delightes. The image of her griefe before her, and the do­mage of her losse within her, shee sownded on the senselesse earth, and being conueied to her oratorie by the holy assistance, the sacred bo­die of Christ was bound vp and borne to the se­pulchre.