Salve Deus
Rex Judæorum.
Aemilia
Lanyer
Sith Cynthia is ascended to that rest
Of endlesse joy and true Eternitie,
That glorious place that cannot be
exprest
By any wight clad in mortalitie,
In her almightie love so highly
blest,
5
And crown'd with everlasting
Sov'raigntie;
Where Saints and
Angells do attend her Throne,
And she gives glorie
unto God alone.
To thee great Countesse now I will
applie
The
Ladie Margaret
My Pen, to write thy never dying
fame;
10
Countesse Dowager
That when to Heav'n thy blessed Soule
shall
flie,
of
Cumberland.
These lines on earth record thy reverend
name:
And to this taske I meane my Muse to
tie,
Though wanting skill I shall but
purchase
blame:
Pardon (deere Ladie)
want of womans wit
15
To pen thy praise,
when few can equall it.
And pardon (Madame) though I do not
write
Those praisefull lines of that
delightfull
place,
As you commaunded me in that faire night,
When shining Phoebe gave so great a
grace,
20
Presenting Paradice to your sweet sight,
Unfolding all the beauty of her face
With pleasant groves,
hills, walks and stately trees,
Which pleasures with
retired minds agrees.
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Whose Eagles eyes behold the glorious
Sunne
25
Of th'all-creating Providence, reflecting
His blessed beames on all by him,
begunne;
Increasing, strengthning, guiding and
directing
All worldly creatures their due course
to runne,
Unto His powrefull pleasure all
subjecting:
30
And thou (deere
Ladie)
by his speciall grace,
In these his
creatures
dost behold his face.
Whose all-reviving beautie, yeelds
such
joyes
To thy sad Soule, plunged in waves of
woe,
That worldly pleasures seemes to thee
as toyes,
35
Onely thou seek'st Eternitie to know,
Respecting not the infinite annoyes
That Satan to thy well-staid mind can
show;
Ne can he quench
in thee, the Spirit of Grace,
Nor draw thee from
beholding Heavens bright face.
40
Thy Mind so perfect by thy Maker fram'd,
No vaine delights can harbour in thy
heart,
With his sweet love, thou art so much
inflam'd,
As of the world thou seem'st to have
no part;
So, love him still, thou need'st not
be asham'd,
45
Tis He that made thee, what thou wert,
and art:
Tis He that dries
all teares from Orphans eies,
And heares from
heav'n
the wofull widdows cries.
Tis He that doth behold thy inward cares,
And will regard the sorrowes of thy
Soule;
50
Tis He that guides thy feet from Sathans
snares,
And in his Wisedome, doth thy waies
controule:
He through afflictions, still thy Minde
prepares,
And all thy glorious Trialls will
enroule:
That when darke daies
of terror shall appeare,
55
Thou as the Sunne
shalt shine; or much more cleare.
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The Heav'ns shall perish as a garment
olde,
Or as a vesture by the maker chang'd,
And shall depart, as when a skrowle
is rolde;
Yet thou from him shalt never be
estrang'd,
60
When He shall come in glory, that was
solde
For all our sinnes; we happily are
chang'd,
Who for our faults
put on his righteousnesse,
Although full oft
his Lawes we doe transgresse.
Long mai'st thou joy in this almightie
love,
65
Long may thy Soule be pleasing in his
sight,
Long mai'st thou have true comforts from
above,
Long mai'st thou set on him thy whole
delight,
And patiently endure when he doth prove,
Knowing that He will surely do thee
right:
70
Thy patience, faith,
long suffring, and thy love,
He will reward with
comforts from above.
With Majestie and Honour is He clad,
And deck'd with light, as with a garment
faire;
He joyes the Meeke, and makes the
Mightie
sad,
75
Pulls downe the Prowd, and doth the
Humble reare:
Who sees this Bridegroome, never can
be sad;
None lives that can his wondrous workes
declare:
Yea, looke how farre
the Est is from the West,
So farre he sets
our sinnes that have transgrest.
80
He rides upon the wings of all the windes,
And spreads the heav'ns with his all
powrefull hand;
Oh! who can loose when the Almightie
bindes?
Or in his angry presence dares to stand?
He searcheth out the secrets of all
mindes;
85
All those that feare him, shall possesse
the Land:
He is exceeding
glorious
to behold,
Antient of Times;
so faire, and yet so old.
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He of the watry Cloudes his Chariot
frames,
And makes his blessed Angels powrefull
Spirits
90
Rewarding all according to their merits;
The Righteous for an heritage he claimes,
And registers the wrongs of humble
spirits:
Hills melt like wax,
in presence of the Lord,
95
So do all sinners,
in his sight abhorr'd.
He in the waters laies his chamber
beames,
And cloudes of darkenesse compasse him
about,
Consuming fire shall goe before in
streames,
And burne up all his en'mies round
about:
100
Yet on these Judgements worldlings never
dreames,
Nor of these daungers never stand in
doubt:
While he shall rest
within his holy Hill,
That lives and dies
according to his Will.
But woe to them that double-hearted
bee,
105
Who with their tongues the righteous
Soules doe slay;
Bending their bowes to shoot at all
they see,
With upright hearts their Maker to obay;
And secretly doe let their arrowes flee,
To wound true hearted people any
way:
110
The Lord wil roote
them out that speake prowd things,
Deceitfull tongues
are but false Slanders wings.
Froward are the ungodly from their berth,
No sooner borne, but they doe goe astray;
The Lord will roote them out from off
the earth,
115
And give them to their en'mies for a
pray,
As venemous as Serpents is their breath,
With poysned lies to hurt in what they
may
The Innocent: who
as a Dove shall flie
Unto the Lord, that
he his cause may trie
120
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The righteous Lord doth
righteousnesse
allow,
His countenance will behold the thing
that's just;
Unto the Meane he makes the Mightie
bow,
And raiseth up the Poore out of the
dust:
Yet makes no count to us, nor when,
nor how,
125
But powres his grace on all, that puts
their trust
In him: that never
will their hopes betray,
Nor lets them perish
that for mercie pray.
He shall within his Tabernacle dwell,
Whose life is uncorrupt before the
Lord,
130
Who no untrueths of Innocents doth tell,
Nor wrongs his neighbour, nor in deed,
nor word,
Nor in his pride with malice seems to
swell,
Nor whets his tongue more sharper
than
a sword,
To wound the
reputation
of the
Just;
135
Nor seekes to lay
their glorie in the Dust.
That great Jehova King of heav'n and
earth,
Will raine downe fire and brimstone
from above,
Upon the wicked monsters in their berth
That storme and rage at those whom he
doth
love:
140
Snares, stormes, and tempests he will
raine,
and dearth,
Because he will himselfe almightie prove:
And this shall be
their portion they shall drinke,
That thinkes the
Lord is blind when he doth winke.
Pardon (good Madame) though I have
digrest
145 To the Countesse
From what I doe intend to write of
thee,
of Cumberland.
To set his glorie forth whom thou lov'st
best,
Whose wondrous works no mortall eie
can see;
His speciall care on those whom he hath
blest
From wicked worldlings, how he sets
them free:
150
And how such people
he doth overthrow
In all their waies,
that they his powre may know.
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The meditation of this Monarchs love,
Drawes thee from caring what this world
can yield;
Of joyes and griefes both equall thou
dost
prove,
155
They have no force, to force thee from
the field:
Thy constant faith like to the Turtle
Dove
Continues combat, and will never yield
To base affliction;
or prowd pomps desire,
That sets the weakest
mindes so much on
fire.
160
Thou from the Court to the Countrie
art
retir'd,
Leaving the world, before the world
leaves thee:
That great Enchantresse of weake mindes
admir'd,
Whose all-bewitching charmes so pleasing
be
To worldly wantons; and too much
desir'd
165
Of those that care not for Eternitie:
But yeeld themselves
as preys to Lust and Sinne,
Loosing their hopes
of Heav'n Hell paines to winne.
But thou, the wonder of our wanton age
Leav'st all delights to serve a heav'nly
King:
170
Who is more wise? or who can be more
sage,
Than she that doth Affection subject
bring;
Not forcing for the world, or Satans
rage,
But shrowding under the Almighties wing;
Spending her yeares,
moneths, daies,
minutes,
howres,
175
In doing service
to the heav'nly powres.
Thou faire example, live without
compare,
With Honours triumphs seated in thy
breast;
Pale Envy never can thy name empaire,
When in thy heart thou harbour'st such
a
guest:
180
Malice must live for ever in dispaire;
There's no revenge where Virtue still
doth rest:
All hearts must needs
do homage unto thee,
In whom all eies
such rare perfection see.
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That outward Beautie which the world
commends,
185
An Invective
Is not the subject I will write
upon,
against
Whose date expir'd, that tyrant Time
soone
ends,
outward beuty
Those gawdie colours soone are spent
and gone:
unaccompanied
But those faire Virtues which on thee
attends
with virtue.
Are alwaies fresh, they never are but
one:
190
They make thy Beautie
fairer to behold,
Than was that Queenes
for whom prowd Troy
was sold.
As for those matchlesse colours Red and
White,
Or perfit features in a fading face,
Or due proportion pleasing to the
sight;
195
All these doe draw but dangers and
disgrace:
A mind enrich'd with Virtue, shines
more bright,
Addes everlasting Beauty, gives true
grace,
Frames an immortall
Goddesse on the earth,
Who though she dies,
yet Fame gives her new berth. 200
That pride of Nature which adornes the
faire,
Like blasing Comets to allure all eies,
Is but the thred, that weaves their
web of Care,
Who glories most, where most their
danger
lies;
For greatest perills do attend the
faire,
205
When men do seeke, attempt, plot and
devise,
How they may
overthrow
the chastest Dame,
Whose Beautie is
the White whereat they aime.
Twas Beautie bred in Troy the ten yeares
strife,
And carried Hellen from her lawfull
Lord;
210
Twas Beautie made chaste Lucrece loose
her life,
For which prowd Tarquins fact was so
abhorr'd:
Beautie the cause Antonius wrong'd his
wife,
Which could not be decided but by sword:
Great Cleopatraes
Beautie and defects
215
Did worke Octaviaes
wrongs, and his neglects.
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What fruit did yeeld that faire forbidden
tree,
But blood, dishonour, infamie, and shame?
Poore blinded Queene, could'st thou
no better see,
But entertaine disgrace, in stead of
fame?
220
Doe these designes with Majestie agree?
To staine thy blood, and blot thy royall
name.
That heart that gave
consent unto this ill,
Did give consent
that thou thy selfe should'st kill.
Faire Rosamund, the wonder of her
time,
225
Had bin much fairer, had shee not bin
faire;
Of Rosamund.
Beautie betraid her thoughts, aloft
to clime,
To build strong castles in uncertaine
aire,
Where th'infection of a wanton crime
Did worke her fall; first poyson, then
despaire,
230
With double death
did kill her perjur'd soule,
When heavenly Justice
did her sinne controule.
Holy Matilda in a haplesse
houre
Of Matilda.
Was borne to sorow and to discontent,
Beauty the cause that turn'd her Sweet
to Sowre,
235
While Chastity sought Folly to prevent.
Lustfull King John refus'd, did use
his powre,
By Fire and Sword, to compasse his
content:
But Friends disgrace,
nor Fathers banishment,
Nor Death it selfe,
could purchase her
consent.
240
Here Beauty in the height of all perfection,
Crown'd this faire Creatures everlasting
fame,
Whose noble minde did scorne the base
subjection
Of Feares, or Favours, to impaire her
Name:
By heavenly grace, she had such true
direction,
245
To die with Honour, not to live in Shame;
And drinke that
poyson
with a cheerefull heart,
That could all
Heavenly
grace to her impart.
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This Grace great Lady, doth possesse
thy
Soule,
To the Ladie
And makes thee pleasing in thy Makers
sight;
250
of Cumberland
This Grace doth all imperfect Thoughts
controule,
the Introduction
Directing thee to serve thy God aright;
to the passion
Still reckoning him, the Husband of
thy Soule,
of
Christ.
Which is most pretious in his glorious
sight:
Because the Worlds
delights shee doth
denie
255
For him, who for
her sake vouchsaf'd to die.
And dying made her Dowager of all;
Nay more, Co-heire of that eternall
blisse
That Angels lost, and We by Adams fall;
Meere Cast-awaies, rais'd by a Judas
kisse,
260
Christs bloody sweat, the Vineger, and
Gall,
The Speare, Sponge, Nailes, his
buffeting
with Fists,
His bitter Passion,
Agony, and Death,
Did gaine us Heaven
when He did loose his breath.
These high deserts invites my lowely
Muse
265
A preamble
To write of Him, and pardon crave of
thee,
of the Author
For Time so spent, I need make no
excuse,
before
Knowing it doth with thy faire Minde
agree
the Passion.
So well, as thou no Labour wilt refuse,
That to thy holy Love may pleasing
be:
270
His Death and Passion I desire to write,
And thee to reade, the blessed Soules
delight.
But my deare Muse, now whither wouldst
thou flie,
Above the pitch of thy appointed straine?
With Icarus thou seekest now to
trie,
275
Not waxen wings, but thy poore barren
Braine,
Which farre too weake, these siely lines
descrie;
Yet cannot this thy forward Mind
restraine,
But thy poore Infant
Verse must soare aloft,
Not fearing
threat'ning
dangers, happening
oft.
280
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Thinke when the eye of Wisdom shall discover
Thy weakling Muse to flie, that scarce
could creepe,
And in the Ayre above the Clowdes to
hover,
When better ‘twere mued up, and fast
asleepe;
They'l thinke with Phaeton, thou canst
neare recover, 285
But helplesse with that poore yong Lad
to weepe:
The little World
of thy weake Wit on fire,
Where thou wilt
perish
in thine owne desire.
But yet the Weaker thou doest seeme to
be
In Sexe, or Sence, the more his Glory
shines,
290
That doth infuze such powerfull Grace
in thee,
To shew thy Love in these few humble
Lines;
The Widowes Myte, with this may well
agree,
Her little All more worth than golden
mynes,
Beeing more deerer
to our loving Lord,
295
Than all the wealth
that Kingdoms could affoard.
Therefore I humbly for his Grace will
pray,
That he will give me Power and Strength
to Write,
That what I have begun, so end I may,
As his great Glory may appeare more
bright;
300
Yea in these Lines I may no further
stray,
Than his most holy Spirit shall give
me Light:
That blindest
Weakenesse
be not over-bold,
The manner of his
Passion to unfold.
In other Phrases than may well
agree
305
With his pure Doctrine, and most holy
Writ,
That Heavens cleare eye, and all the
World may see,
I seeke his Glory, rather than to get
The Vulgars breath, the seed of Vanitie,
Nor Fames lowd Trumpet care I to
admit;
310
But rather strive
in plainest Words to showe,
The Matter which
I seeke to undergoe.
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B2r ]----------
A Matter farre beyond my barren skill,
To shew with any Life this map of Death,
This Storie; that whole Worlds with
Bookes
would fill, 315
In these few Lines, will put me out
of breath,
To run so swiftly up this mightie Hill,
I may behold it with the eye of Faith;
But to present this
pure unspotted Lambe,
I must confesse,
I farre unworthy
am.
320
Yet if he please t'illuminate my Spirit,
And give me Wisdom from his holy Hill,
That I may Write part of his glorious
Merit,
If he vouchsafe to guide my Hand and
Quill,
To shew his Death, by which we doe
inherit
325
Those endlesse Joyes that all our hearts
doe fill;
Then will I tell
of that sad blacke fac'd Night,
Whose mourning Mantle
covered Heavenly Light.
That very Night our Saviour was
betrayed,
Here begins
Oh night! exceeding all the nights of
sorow,
330
the Passion
When our most blessed Lord, although
dismayed,
of
Christ.
Yet would not he one Minutes respite
borrow,
But to Mount Olives went, though sore
afraid,
To welcome Night, and entertaine the
Morrow;
And as he oft unto
that place did
goe,
335
So did he now, to
meete his long nurst woe.
He told his deere Disciples that they
all
Should be offended by him, that selfe
night,
His Griefe was great, and theirs could
not be small,
To part from him who was their sole
Delight;
340
Saint Peter thought his Faith could
never fall,
No mote could happen in so cleare a
sight:
Which made him say,
though all men
were offended,
Yet would he never,
though his life were ended.
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B2v ]----------
But his deare Lord made answere, That
before
345
The Cocke did crowe, he should deny
him thrice;
This could not choose but grieve him
very sore,
That his hot Love should proove more
cold than Ice,
Denying him he did so much adore;
No imperfection in himselfe he
spies,
350
But faith againe,
with him hee'l surely die,
Rather than his deare
Master once denie.
And all the rest (did likewise say the
same)
Of his Disciples, at that instant time;
But yet poore Peter, he was most too
blame,
355
That thought above them all, by Faith
to clime;
His forward speech inflicted sinne and
shame,
When Wisdoms eyes did looke and checke
his crime:
Who did foresee,
and told it him before,
Yet would he needs
averre it more and
more.
360
Now went our Lord unto that holy place,
Sweet Gethsemaine hallowed by his
presence,
That blessed Garden, which did now
embrace
His holy corps, yet could make no defence
Against those Vipers, objects of
disgrace,
365
Which sought that pure eternall Love
to quench:
Here his Disciples
willed he to stay,
Whilst he went
further,
where he meant to pray.
None were admitted with their Lord to
goe,
But Peter, and the sonnes of
Zebed'us,
370
To them good Jesus opened all his woe,
He gave them leave his sorows to
discusse,
His deepest griefes, he did not scorne
to showe
These three deere friends, so much he
did intrust:
Beeing sorowfull,
and overcharg'd with griefe,
375
He told it them,
yet look'd for no reliefe.
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Sweet Lord, how couldst thou thus to
flesh and blood
Communicate thy griefe? tell of thy
woes?
Thou knew'st they had no powre to doe
thee good,
But were the cause thou must endure
these blowes, 380
Beeing the Scorpions bred in Adams mud,
Whose poys'ned sinnes did worke among
thy foes,
To re-ore-charge thy
over-burd'ned soule,
Although the sorowes
now they doe condole.
Yet didst thou tell them of thy
troubled
state,
385
Of thy Soules heavinesse unto the death,
So full of Love, so free wert thou from
hate,
To bid them stay, whose sinnes did stop
thy breath,
When thou wert entring at so straite
a gate,
Yea entring even into the doore of
Death,
390
Thou bidst them tarry
there, and watch with thee,
Who from thy pretious
blood-shed were not free.
Bidding them tarry, thou didst further
goe,
To meet affliction in such gracefull
sort,
As might moove pitie both in friend
and foe,
395
Thy sorowes such, as none could them
comport,
Such great Indurements who did ever
know,
When to th' Almighty thou didst make
resort?
And falling on thy
face didst humbly pray,
If ‘twere his Will
that Cup might passe away.
400
Saying, Not my will, but thy will Lord
be done.
When as thou prayedst an Angel did
appeare
From Heaven, to comfort thee Gods onely
Sonne,
That thou thy Suffrings might'st the
better beare,
Beeing in an agony, thy glasse neere
run,
405
Thou prayedst more earnestly, in so
great feare,
That pretious sweat
came trickling to the ground,
Like drops of blood
thy sences to confound.
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Loe here his Will, not thy Will, Lord
was done,
And thou content to undergoe all
paines,
410
Sweet Lambe of God, his deare beloved
Sonne,
By this great purchase, what to thee
remaines?
Of Heaven and Earth thou hast a Kingdom
wonne,
Thy Glory beeing equall with thy Gaines,
In ratifying Gods
promise on the
Earth,
415
Made many hundred
yeares before thy birth.
But now returning to thy sleeping Friends,
That could not watch one houre for love
of thee,
Even those three Friends, which on thy
Grace depends,
Yet shut those Eies that should their
Maker
see;
420
What colour, what excuse, or what amends,
From thy Displeasure now can set them
free?
Yet thy pure Pietie
bids them Watch and Pray,
Lest in Temptation
they be led away.
Although the Spirit was willing to
obay,
425
Yet what great weakenesse in the Flesh
was found!
They slept in Ease, whilst thou in Paine
didst pray;
Loe, they in Sleepe, and thou in Sorow
drown'd:
Yet Gods right Hand was unto thee a
stay,
When horror, griefe, and sorow did
abound:
430
His Angel did appeare
from Heaven to thee,
To yeeld thee comfort
in Extremitie.
But what could comfort then thy troubled
Minde,
When Heaven and Earth were both against
thee bent?
And thou no hope, no ease, no rest
could'st
finde,
435
But must restore that Life, which was
but lent;
Was ever Creature in the World so kinde,
But he that from Eternitie was sent?
To satisfie for many
Worlds of Sinne,
Whose matchlesse
Torments did but then
begin.
440
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If one Mans sinne doth challendge Death
and Hell,
With all the Torments that belong
thereto:
If for one sinne such Plagues on David
fell,
As grieved him, and did his Seed undoe:
If Salomon, for that he did not
well,
445
Falling from Grace, did loose his
Kingdome
too:
Ten Tribes beeing
taken from his wilfull Sonne
And Sinne the Cause
that they were all undone.
What could thy Innocency now expect,
When all the Sinnes that ever were
committed,
450
Were laid to thee, whom no man could
detect?
Yet farre thou wert of Man from beeing
pittied,
The Judge so just could yeeld thee no
respect,
Nor would one jot of penance be remitted;
But greater horror
to thy Soule must
rise,
455
Than Heart can
thinke,
or any Wit devise.
Now drawes the houre of thy affliction
neere,
And ugly Death presents himselfe before
thee;
Thou now must leave those Friends thou
held'st so deere,
Yea those Disciples, who did most adore
thee;
460
Yet in thy countenance doth no Wrath
appeare,
Although betrayd to those that did
abhorre
thee:
Thou did'st vouchsafe
to visit them againe,
Who had no
apprehension
of thy paine.
Their eyes were heavie, and their
hearts
asleepe,
465
Nor knew they well what answere then
to make thee;
Yet thou as Watchman, had'st a care to
keepe
Those few from sinne, that shortly would
forsake thee;
But now thou bidst them henceforth Rest
and Sleepe,
Thy houre is come, and they at hand
to take thee:
470
The Sonne of God
to Sinners made a pray,
Oh hatefull houre!
oh blest! oh cursed day!
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Loe here thy great Humility was found,
Beeing King of Heaven, and Monarch of
the Earth,
Yet well content to have thy Glory
drownd,
475
By beeing counted of so meane a berth;
Grace, Love, and Mercy did so much
abound,
Thou entertaindst the Crosse, even to
the death:
And nam'dst thy
selfe,
the sonne of Man to be,
To purge our pride
by thy
Humilitie.
480
But now thy friends whom thou didst call
to goe,
Heavy Spectators of thy haplesse case,
See thy Betrayer, whom too well they
knowe,
One of the twelve, now object of
disgrace,
A trothlesse traytor, and a mortall
foe,
485
With fained kindnesse seekes thee to
imbrace;
And gives a kisse,
whereby he may deceive thee,
That in the hands
of Sinners he might leave thee.
Now muster forth with Swords, with
Staves,
with Bils,
High Priests and Scribes, and Elders
of the Land,
490
Seeking by force to have their wicked
Wils,
Which thou didst never purpose to
withstand;
Now thou mak'st haste unto the worst
of Ils,
And who they seeke, thou gently doest
demand;
This didst thou Lord,
t'amaze these Fooles the more,
495
T'inquire of that,
thou knew'st so well before.
When loe these Monsters did not shame
to tell,
His name they sought, and found, yet
could not know
Jesus of Nazareth, at whose feet they
fell,
When Heavenly Wisdome did descend so
lowe
500
To speake to them: they knew they did
not well,
Their great amazement made them
backeward
goe:
Nay, though he said
unto them, I am he,
They could not know
him, whom their eyes did see.
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How blinde were they could not discerne
the Light!
505
How dull! if not to understand the truth,
How weake! if meekenesse overcame their
might;
How stony hearted, if not mov'd to ruth:
How void of Pitie, and how full of
Spight,
Gainst him that was the Lord of Light
and
Truth:
510
Here insolent
Boldnesse
checkt by Love and Grace,
Retires, and falls
before our Makers face.
For when he spake to this accursed crew,
And mildely made them know that it was
he:
Presents himselfe, that they might take
a view;
515
And what they doubted they might
cleerely
see;
Nay more, to re-assure that it was true,
He said: I say unto you, I am hee.
If him they sought,
he's willing to obay,
Onely desires the
rest might goe their
way.
520
Thus with a heart prepared to endure
The greatest wrongs Impietie could
devise,
He was content to stoope unto their
Lure,
Although his Greatnesse might doe
otherwise:
Here Grace was seised on with hands
impure,
525
And Virtue now must be supprest by Vice,
Pure Innocencie made
a prey to Sinne,
Thus did his Torments
and our Joyes beginne.
Here faire Obedience shined in his breast,
And did suppresse all feare of future
paine;
530
Love was his Leader unto this unrest,
Whil'st Righteousnesse doth carry up
his Traine;
Mercy made way to make us highly blest,
When Patience beat downe Sorrow, Feare
and Paine:
Justice sate looking
with an angry
brow,
535
On blessed misery
appeering now.
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More glorious than all the Conquerors
Than ever liv'd within this Earthly
round,
More powrefull than all Kings, or Governours
That ever yet within this World were
found;
540
More valiant than the greatest Souldiers
That ever fought, to have their glory
crown'd:
For which of them,
that ever yet tooke breath,
Sought t'indure the
doome of Heaven and Earth?
But our sweet Saviour whom these Jewes
did name; 545
Yet could their learned Ignorance
apprehend
No light of grace, to free themselves
from blame:
Zeale, Lawes, Religion, now they doe
pretend
Against the truth, untruths they seeke
to frame:
Now al their powres, their wits, their
strengths,
they
bend
550
Against one siely,
weake, unarmed man,
Who no resistance
makes, though much he can,
To free himselfe from these unlearned
men,
Who call'd him Saviour in his blessed
name;
Yet farre from knowing him their Saviour
then,
555
That came to save both them and theirs
from blame;
Though they retire and fall, they come
agen
To make a surer purchase of their shame:
With lights and
torches
now they find the way,
To take the Shepheard
whilst the sheep doe stray.
560
Why should unlawfull actions use the
Light?
Inniquitie in Darkenesse seekes to dwell;
Sinne rides his circuit in the dead
of Night,
Teaching all soules the ready waies to
hell;
Sathan coms arm'd with all the powres
of
Spight,
565
Heartens his Champions, makes them rude
and fell;
Like rav'ning wolves,
to shed his guiltlesse blood,
Who thought no harme,
but di'd to doe them good.
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Here Falshood beares the shew of
formall
Right,
Base Treacherie hath gote a guard of
men;
570
Tyranny attends, with all his strength
and might,
To leade this siely Lamb to Lyons denne;
Yet he unmoov'd in this most wretched
plight,
Goes on to meete them, knowes the houre,
and when:
The powre of
darkenesse
must expresse Gods ire,
575
Therefore to save
these few was his desire.
These few that wait on Poverty and
Shame,
And offer to be sharers in his Ils;
These few that will be spreaders of
his Fame,
He will not leave to Tyrants wicked
wils;
580
But still desires to free them from
all blame,
Yet Feare goes forward, Anger Patience
kils:
A Saint is mooved
to revenge a wrong,
And Mildnesse doth
what doth to Wrath belong.
For Peter griev'd at what might then
befall,
585
Yet knew not what to doe, nor what to
thinke,
Thought something must be done; now,
if at all,
To free his Master, that he might not
drinke
This poys'ned draught, farre bitterer
than gall,
For now he sees him at the very
brinke
590
Of griesly Death,
who gins to shew his face,
Clad in all colours
of a deepe disgrace.
And now those hands, that never us'd
to fight,
Or drawe a weapon in his owne defence,
Too forward is, to doe his Master
right,
595
Since of his wrongs, hee feeles so true
a sence:
But ah poore Peter! now thou wantest
might,
And hee's resolv'd, with them he will
goe hence:
To draw thy sword
in such a helpelesse cause,
Offends thy Lord,
and is against the Lawes.
600
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signature C2v ]----------
So much he hates Revenge, so farre from
Hate,
That he vouchsafes to heale, whom thou
dost wound;
His paths are Peace, with none he holdes
Debate,
His Patience stands upon so sure a
ground,
To counsell thee, although it comes
too
late:
605
Nay, to his foes, his mercies so abound,
That he in pitty
doth thy will restraine,
And heales the hurt,
and takes away the paine.
For willingly he will endure this wrong,
Although his pray'rs might have obtain'd
such grace,
610
As to dissolve their plots though ne'r
so strong,
And bring these wicked Actors in worse
case
Than Ægypts King on whom Gods
plagues
did throng,
But that foregoing Scriptures must take
place:
If God by prayers
had an army
sent
615
Of powrefull Angels,
who could them prevent?
Yet mightie JESUS meekely ask'd, Why
they
With Swords and Staves doe come as to
a Thiefe?
Hee teaching in the Temple day by day
None did offend, or give him cause of
griefe.
620
Now all are forward, glad is he that
may
Give most offence, and yeeld him least
reliefe:
His hatefull foes
are ready now to take him,
And all his deere
Disciples do forsake him.
Those deare Disciples that he most did
love,
625
And were attendant at his becke and
call,
When triall of affliction came to prove,
They first left him, who now must leave
them all:
For they were earth, and he came from
above,
Which made them apt to flie, and fit
to
fall:
630
Though they protest
they never will forsake him,
They do like men,
when dangers overtake them.
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And he alone is bound to loose us all,
Whom with unhallowed hands they led
along,
To wicked Caiphas in the Judgement
Hall,
635
Who studies onely how to doe him wrong;
High Priests and Elders, People great
and small,
With all reprochfull words about him
throng:
False Witnesses are
now call'd in apace,
Whose trothlesse
tongues must make pale
640
death
imbrace
The beauty of the World, Heavens chiefest
Glory;
The mirrour of Martyrs, Crowne of holy
Saints;
Love of th'Almighty, blessed Angels
story;
Water of Life, which none that drinks
it, faints;
Guide of the Just, where all our Light
we
borrow;
645
Mercy of Mercies; Hearer of Complaints;
Triumpher over Death;
Ransomer of Sinne;
Falsly accused: now
his paines begin.
Their tongues doe serve him as a
Passing
bell,
For what they say is certainly
beleeved;
650
So sound a tale unto the Judge they
tell,
That he of Life must shortly be bereaved;
Their share of Heaven, they doe not
care to sell,
So his afflicted Heart be throughly
grieved:
They tell his Words,
though farre from his intent,
655
And what his Speeches
were, not what he meant.
That he Gods holy Temple could destroy,
And in three daies could build it up
againe;
This seem'd to them a vaine and idle
toy,
It would not sinke into their sinful
braine:
660
Christs blessed body, al true Christians
joy,
Should die, and in three dayes revive
againe:
This did the Lord
of Heaven and earth endure,
Unjustly to be
charg'd
by tongues impure.
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And now they all doe give attentive
eare,
665
To heare the answere, which he will
not make;
The people wonder how he can forbeare,
And these great wrongs so patiently
can take;
But yet he answers not, nor doth he
care,
Much more he will endure for our
sake:
670
Nor can their wisdoms
any way discover,
Who he should be
that proov'd so true a Lover.
To entertaine the sharpest pangs of
death,
And fight a combate in the depth of
hell,
For wretched Worldlings made of dust
and
earth,
675
Whose hard'ned hearts, with pride and
mallice swell;
In midst of bloody sweat, and dying
breath,
He had compassion on these tyrants fell:
And purchast them
a place in Heav'n for ever,
When they his Soule
and Body sought to
sever.
680
Sinnes ugly mists, so blinded had
their
eyes,
That at Noone dayes they could discerne
no Light;
These were those fooles, that thought
themselves so wise,
The Jewish wolves, that did our Saviour
bite;
For now they use all meanes they can
devise,
685
To beate downe truth, and goe against
all right:
Yea now they take
Gods holy name in vaine,
To know the truth,
which truth they doe prophane.
The chiefest Hel-hounds of this hatefull
crew,
Rose up to aske what answere he could
make,
690
Against those false accusers in his
view;
That by his speech, they might advantage
take:
He held his peace, yet knew they said
not true,
No answere would his holy wisdome make,
Till he was charged
in his glorious
name,
695
Whose pleasure ‘twas
he should endure this shame.
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Then with so mild a Majestie he spake,
As they might easly know from whence
he came,
His harmelesse tongue doth no exceptions
take,
Nor Priests, nor People, meanes he now
to
blame;
700
But answers Folly, for true Wisdomes
sake,
Beeing charged deeply by his powrefull
name,
To tell if Christ
the Sonne of God he be,
Who for our sinnes
must die, to set us free.
To thee O Caiphas doth he answere
give,
705
That thou hast said, what thou desir'st
to know,
And yet thy malice will not let him
live,
So much thou art unto thy selfe a foe;
He speaketh truth, but thou wilt not
beleeve,
Nor canst thou apprehend it to be
so:
710
Though he expresse
his Glory unto thee,
Thy Owly eies are
blind, and cannot see.
Thou rend'st thy° cloathes, in stead
of thy false heart,
°thy omitted in W.
And on the guiltlesse lai'st thy guilty
crime;
For thou blasphem'st, and he must feele
the smart: 715
To sentence death, thou think'st it
now high time;
No witnesse now thou need'st, for this
fowle part,
Thou to the height of wickednesse canst
clime:
And give occasion
to the ruder sort,
To make afflictions,
sorrows, follies sport.
720
Now when the dawne of day gins to appeare,
And all your wicked counsels have an
end,
To end his Life, that holds you all
so deere,
For to that purpose did your studies
bend;
Proud Pontius Pilate must the matter
heare,
725
To your untroths his eares he now must
lend:
Sweet Jesus bound,
to him you led away,
Of his most pretious
blood to make your pray.
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Which, when that wicked Caytife did perceive,
By whose lewd meanes he came to this
distresse;
730
He brought the price of blood he did
receive,
Thinking thereby to make his fault seeme
lesse,
And with these Priests and Elders did
it leave,
Confest his fault, wherein he did
transgresse:
But when he saw
Repentance
unrespected,
735
He hang'd himselfe;
of God and Man rejected.
By this Example, what can be expected
From wicked Man, which on the Earth
doth live?
But faithlesse dealing, feare of God
neglected;
Who for their private gaine cares not
to
sell
740
The Innocent Blood of Gods most deere
elected,
As did that caytife wretch, now damn'd
in Hell:
If in Christs
Schoole,
he tooke so great a fall,
What will they doe,
that come not there at all.
Now Pontius Pilate
is to judge the
Cause
745
Of faultlesse Jesus, who before him
stands;
Who neither hath offended Prince, nor
Lawes,
Although he now be brought in woefull
bands:
O noble Governour, make thou yet a pause,
Doe not in innocent blood imbrue thy
hands;
750
But heare the
words
of thy most worthy wife,
Who sends to thee,
to beg her Saviours life.
Let barb'rous crueltie farre depart from
thee,
And in true Justice take afflictions
part;
Open thine eies, that thou the truth
mai'st see,
755
Doe not the thing that goes against
thy heart,
Condemne not him that must thy Saviour
be;
But view his holy Life, his good desert.
Let not us Women
glory in Mens fall,
Who had power given
to over-rule us all.
760
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Till now your indiscretion sets us
free,
Eves Apologie.
And makes our former fault much lesse
appeare;
Our Mother Eve, who tasted of the Tree,
Giving to Adam what shee held most deare,
Was simply good, and had no powre to
see,
765
The after-comming harme did not appeare:
The subtile Serpent
that our Sex betraide,
Before our fall so
sure a plot had laide.
That undiscerning Ignorance perceav'd
No guile, or craft that was by him
intended;
770
For had she knowne, of what we were
bereav'd,
To his request she had not condiscended.
But she (poore soule) by cunning was
deceav'd,
No hurt therein her harmelesse Heart
intended:
For she alleadg'd
Gods word, which he
denies,
775
That they should
die, but even as Gods, be wise.
But surely Adam can not be excusde,
Her fault though great, yet hee was
most too blame;
What Weaknesse offerd, Strength might
have refusde,
Being Lord of all, the greater was his
shame:
780
Although the Serpents craft had her
abusde,
Gods holy word ought all his actions
frame,
For he was Lord and
King of all the earth,
Before poore Eve
had either life or breath.
Who being fram'd by Gods eternall
hand,
785
The perfect'st man that ever breath'd
on earth;
And from Gods mouth receiv'd that strait
command,
The breach whereof he knew was present
death:
Yea having powre to rule both Sea and
Land,
Yet with one Apple wonne to loose that
breath
790
Which God had
breathed
in his beauteous face,
Bringing us all in
danger and disgrace.
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And then to lay the fault on Patience
backe,
That we (poore women) must endure it
all;
We know right well he did discretion
lacke,
795
Beeing not perswaded thereunto at all;
If Eve did erre, it was for knowledge
sake,
The fruit beeing faire perswaded him
to fall:
No subtill Serpents
falshood did betray him,
If he would eate
it, who had powre to stay him?
800
Not Eve, whose fault was onely too
much
love,
Which made her give this present to
her Deare,
That what shee tasted, he likewise might
prove,
Whereby his knowledge might become more
cleare;
He never sought her weakenesse to
reprove,
805
With those sharpe words, which he of
God did heare:
Yet Men will boast
of Knowledge, which he tooke
From Eves faire hand,
as from a learned Booke.
If any Evill did in her remaine,
Beeing made of him, he was the ground
of
all;
810
If one of many Worlds could lay a staine
Upon our Sexe, and worke so great a
fall
To wretched Man, by Satans subtill
traine;
What will so fowle a fault amongst you
all?
Her weakenesse did
the Serpents words
obay;
815
But you in malice
Gods deare Sonne betray.
Whom, if unjustly you condemne to die,
Her sinne was small, to what you doe
commit;
All mortall sinnes that doe for
vengeance
crie,
Are not to be compared unto
it:
820
If many worlds would altogether trie,
By all their sinnes the wrath of God
to get;
This sinne of yours,
surmounts them all as farre
As doth the Sunne,
another little starre.
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Then let us have our Libertie
againe,
825
And challendge to your selves no
Sov'raigntie;
You came not in the world without our
paine,
Make that a barre against your crueltie;
Your fault beeing greater, why should
you disdaine
Our beeing your equals, free from
tyranny?
830
If one weake woman
simply did offend,
This sinne of yours,
hath no excuse, nor end.
To which (poore soules) we never gave
consent,
Witnesse thy wife (O Pilate) speakes
for all;
Who did but dreame, and yet a message
sent,
835
That thou should'st have nothing to
doe at all
With that just man; which, if thy heart
relent,
Why wilt thou be a reprobate with Saul?
To seeke the death
of him that is so good,
For thy soules health
to shed his dearest blood. 840
Yea, so thou mai'st these sinful people
please,
Thou art content against all truth and
right,
To seale this act, that may procure
thine ease
With blood, and wrong, with tyrannie,
and might;
The multitude thou seekest to
appease,
845
By base dejection of this heavenly Light:
Demanding which of
these that thou should'st loose,
Whether the Thiefe,
or Christ King of the Jewes.
Base Barrabas the Thiefe, they all
desire,
And thou more base than he, perform'st
their will;
850
Yet when thy thoughts backe to
themselves
retire,
Thou art unwilling to commit this ill:
Oh that thou couldst unto such grace
aspire,
That thy polluted lips might never kill
That Honour, which
right Judgement ever graceth,
855
To purchase shame,
which all true worth defaceth.
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Art thou a Judge, and asketh what to
do
With one, in whom no fault there can
be found?
The death of Christ wilt thou consent
unto,
Finding no cause, no reason, nor no
ground?
860
Shall he be scourg'd, and crucified
too?
And must his miseries by thy meanes
abound?
Yet not asham'd to
aske what he hath done,
When thine owne
conscience
seeks this sinne
to shunne.
Three times thou ask'st, What evill hath
he
done?
865
And saist, thou find'st in him no cause
of death,
Yet wilt thou chasten Gods beloved Sonne,
Although to thee no word of ill he saith:
For Wrath must end, what Malice hath
begunne,
And thou must yield to stop his
guiltlesse
breath. 870
This rude tumultuous rowt doth presse
so sore,
That thou condemnest
him thou shouldst adore.
Yet Pilate, this can yeeld thee no content,
To exercise thine owne authoritie,
But unto Herod he must needes be
sent,
875
To reconcile thy selfe by tyrannie:
Was this the greatest good in Justice
meant,
When thou perceiv'st no fault in him
to be?
If thou must make
thy peace by Virtues fall,
Much better ‘twere
not to be friends at
all.
880
Yet neither thy sterne browe, nor his
great place,
Can draw an answer from the Holy One:
His false accusers, nor his great
disgrace,
Nor Herods scoffes; to him they are
all one:
He neither cares, nor feares his owne
ill case,
885
Though being despis'd and mockt of every
one:
King Herods gladnesse
gives him little ease,
Neither his anger
seekes he to appease.
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Yet this is strange, that base Impietie
Should yeeld those robes of honour,
which were due; 890
Pure white, to shew his great Integritie,
His innocency, that all the world might
view;
Perfections height in lowest penury,
Such glorious poverty as they never
knew:
Purple and Scarlet
well might him
beseeme,
895
Whose pretious blood
must all the world redeeme.
And that Imperiall Crowne of Thornes
he wore,
Was much more pretious than the Diadem
Of any King that ever liv'd before,
Or since his time, their honour's but
a
dreame
900
To his eternall glory, beeing so poore,
To make a purchasse of that heavenly
Realme;
Where God with all
his Angels lives in peace,
No griefes, nor
sorrowes,
but all joyes increase.
Those royall robes, which they in scorne
did
give,
905
To make him odious to the common sort,
Yeeld light of Grace to those whose
soules shall live
Within the harbour of this heavenly
port;
Much doe they joy, and much more doe
they grieve,
His death, their life, should make his
foes such sport: 910
With sharpest thornes
to pricke his blessed face,
Our joyfull sorrow,
and his greater grace.
Three feares at once possessed Pilates
heart;
The first, Christs innocencie, which
so plaine appeares;
The next, That he which now must feele
this smart,
915
Is Gods deare Sonne, for any thing he
heares:
But that which proov'd the deepest
wounding
dart,
Is Peoples threat'nings, which he so
much feares,
That he to
Cæsar
could not be a friend,
Unlesse he sent sweet
JESUS to his
end.
920
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Now Pilate thou art proov'd a painted
wall,
A golden Sepulcher with rotten bones;
From right to wrong, from equitie to
fall:
If none upbraid thee, yet the very
stones
925
His blood, his teares, his sighes, his
bitter groanes:
All these will
witnesse
at the latter day,
When water cannot
wash thy sinne away.
Canst thou be innocent, that gainst all
right,
Wilt yeeld to what thy conscience doth
withstand?
930
Beeing a man of knowledge, powre, and
might,
To let the wicked carrie such a hand,
Before thy face to blindfold Heav'ns
bright light,
And thou to yeeld to what they did
demand?
Washing thy hands,
thy conscience cannot cleare, 935
But to all worlds
this staine must needs appeare.
For loe, the Guiltie doth accuse the
Just,
And faultie Judge condemnes the Innocent;
And wilfull Jewes to exercise their
lust,
With whips and taunts against their
Lord are bent;
940
He basely us'd, blasphemed, scorn'd,
and curst,
Our heavenly King to death for us they
sent:
Reproches,
slanders, spittings in his
face,
Spight doing all
her worst in his disgrace.
And now this long expected houre
drawes
neere,
945
Christ
When blessed Saints with Angels doe
condole;
going to
His holy march, soft pace, and heavy
cheere,
death.
In humble sort to yeeld his glorious
soule,
By his deserts the fowlest sinnes to
cleare;
And in th'eternall booke of heaven to
enroule
950
A satisfaction till
the generall doome,
Of all sinnes past,
and all that are to come.
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They that had seene this pitifull Procession,
From Pilates Palace to Mount Calvarie,
Might thinke he answer'd for some great
transgression, 955
Beeing in such odious sort condemn'd
to die;
He plainely shewed that his own
profession
Was virtue, patience, grace, love, piety;
And how by suffering
he could conquer more
Than all the Kings
that ever liv'd
before.
960
First went the Crier with open mouth
proclayming
The heavy sentence of Iniquitie,
The Hangman next, by his base office
clayming
His right in Hell, where sinners never
die,
Carrying the nayles, the people still
blaspheming 965
Their maker, using all impiety;
The Thieves
attending him on either side,
The Serjeants
watching, while the women
cri'd.
The teares
of the
Thrice
happy women that obtaind such
grace
daughters
From him whose worth the world could
not containe; 970
of Jeruselem.
Immediately to turne about his face,
As not remembring his great griefe and
paine,
To comfort you, whose teares powr'd
forth apace
On Flora's bankes, like shewers of
Aprils
raine:
Your cries inforced
mercie, grace, and
love
975
From him, whom
greatest
Princes could not moove:
To speake on word, nor once to lift his
eyes
Unto proud Pilate, no nor Herod, king;
By all the Questions that they could
devise,
Could make him answere to no manner
of thing;
980
Yet these poore women, by their pitious
cries
Did moove their Lord, their Lover, and
their King,
To take compassion,
turne about, and speake
To them whose hearts
were ready now to breake.
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Most blessed daughters of
Jerusalem,
985
Who found such favour in your Saviors
sight,
To turne his face when you did pitie
him;
Your tearefull eyes, beheld his eies
more bright;
Your Faith and Love unto such grace
did clime,
To have reflection from this Heav'nly
Light:
990
Your Eagles eyes did
gaze against this Sunne,
Your hearts did
thinke,
he dead, the world were done.
When spightfull men with torments did
oppresse
Th'afflicted body of this innocent Dove,
Poore women seeing how much they did
transgresse, 995
By teares, by sighes, by cries intreat,
nay° prove,
°W. has "may" for "nay"
What may be done among the thickest
presse,
They labour still these tyrants hearts
to move;
In pitie and
compassion
to forbeare
Their whipping,
spurning,
tearing of his
haire.
1000
But all in vaine, their malice hath no
end,
Their hearts more hard than flint, or
marble stone;
Now to his griefe, his greatnesse they
attend,
When he (God knowes) had rather be alone;
They are his guard, yet seeke all meanes
to offend:
1005
Well may he grieve, well may he sigh
and groane,
Under the burthen
of a heavy crosse,
He faintly goes to
make their gaine his losse.
His woefull Mother wayting on her
Sonne,
The sorrow
All comfortlesse in depth of sorow
drowned;
1010
of the Virgin
Her griefes extreame, although but new
begun,
Marie.
To see his bleeding body oft shee
swouned;
How could shee choose but thinke her
selfe undone,
He dying, with whose glory shee was
crowned?
None ever lost so
great a losse as
shee,
1015
Beeing Sonne, and
Father of Eternitie.
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Her teares did wash away his pretious
blood,