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even the oftenest searched corners, being more
willing to thinke that all the senses are mistaken,
than to yeeld that hope should quaile. Yet now
sith it is so evident, that hee is taken away,
what should move thee to remaine here where
the perill is apparent, and no profit likely ? Can
the wit of one (and she a woman) wholly possess-
ed with passion, have more light to discerne

danger, than two wits of two men, and both
principal! favourites of the parent of all wis-
dome ? Or if (notwithstanding the danger) there
had beene just cause to encounter it, were not
two tog-ether, being both to Christ sworne cham-
pions, each to other affected friends, and to all
his enemies professed foes, more likely to have
prevailed, than one feminine heart, timorous by
kinde, and already amazed with this dreadfull
accident ?

But alas, why doe I urge her with reason,
whose reason is altered into love, and that judg-
eth it folly to follow such reason, as should any
way impaire her love ? Her thoughts were ar-
rested by every thread of Christ's Sindon, and


slice was captive to so many prisons, as the
tombe had memories of her lost Master : Love
being her jaylor in them all, and nothing able to
ransome her, but the recovery of her Lord.
What marvell then though the Apostles' exam-
ples drew her not away, whom so violent a love
enforced to remaine, which, prescribing lawes
both to wit and will, is guided by no other law
but itselfe ? Shee could not thinke of any feare,
nor stand in feare of any force. Love armed her
against all hazards, and being already wounded
with the greatest griefe, shee had no leasure to
remember any lesser evill. Yea, she had forgot-
ten all things, and herselfe among all things,
only mindfull of him whom shee loved above all


things. And yet her love, by reason of her losse,
drowned both her mind and memory so deepe in
sorrow, and so busied her wits in the conceit of
his absence, that all remembrance of his former
promises, was diverted with the throng of pre-
sent discomforts, and shee seemed to have forgot-
ten also him besides whom shee remembred no-
thing. For doubtlesse had shee remembred him
as shee should, shee would not have now thought
the tombe a fit place to seeke him, neither would
shee mourne for him as dead, and removed by
others' force, but joy in him as revived, and risen
by his own power. For hee had often foretold
both the manner of Ids death, and the day of his
resurrection. But alas, let her heavinesse ex-

cuse her, and the unwontednesse of the miracle
plead her pardon, sith dread and amazement have
dulled her senses, distempered her thoughts, dis-
couraged her hopes, awaked her passions, and
left her no other liberty but only to weepe. Shee
wept therefore being- only able to weepe. And
as skee was weeping, she stooped downe and look-
ed into the monument, and shee saw two angels
in white, sitting one at the head, and another at
the feet, where the body of lesus had bcene laid.
They said unto her, woman ! why weepest thon ?
lohn 20.

O Mary, thy good hap exceedeth thy hope,
and where thy last sorrow was bred, thy first
succour springeth. Thou diddest seeke but one>


and them hast found two. A dead body was thy
errand, and thou hast lit upon two alive. Thy
weeping- was for a man, and thy teares have ob-
tained angels. Suppresse now thy sadnesse,
and refresh thy heart with this good fortune.
These angels invite thee to a parley, they seeme
to take pitty of thy case, and it may bee, they
have some happy tidings to tell thee. Thou hast
hitherto sought in vaine, as one either unseene
or unknowne, or at the least unregarded, sith the
party thou seekest, neither tendereth thy teares,
nor answereth thy cries, nor relenteth with thy
lamentings. Either hee doth not heare, or hee
will not helpe : hee hath peradventure left to
love thee, and is loth to yeeld thee releefe, and


therefore take such comfort as thou findest, sith
thou art not so lucky, as to finde that which
thou couldest wish. Remember what they are,
where they sit, from whence they come, and to
whom they speake. They are angels of peace,
neither sent without cause, nor scene but of fa-
vour. They sit in the tombe, to shew that they
are no strangers to thy losse. They come from
heaven, from whence all happy news descendeth.
They speake to thyselfe, as though they had
some special 1 embassage to deliver unto thee.
Aske them therefore of thy master, for they are
likeliest to returne thee a desired answer. Thou
knewest him too well, to thinke that hell hath
devoured him : thou hast long sought, and hast

not found him on earth, and what place so fit for
him as to bee in heaven? Aske therefore of
those angels that came newly from thence, and
it may bee, their report will highly please thee.
Or ^ thou art resolved to continue thy seeking,
who can better helpe thee, than they that are as
swift as thy thought, as faithfull as thine owne
heart, and as loving to thy Lord as thou thy-
selfe ? Take therefore thy good hap, lest it bee
taken away from thee, and content thee with an-
gels, sith thy master hath given thee over.

But alas, what meaneth this change, and how
happeneth this strange alteration? The time
hath beene that fewer teares would have wrought
greater effect, shorter seeking have sooner found,

and lesse paine have procured more pittie. The
time hath beene that thy annointing his feet was
accepted and praised, thy washing them with
teares highly commended, and thy wiping them
with thy haire, most courteously construed.
How then doth it now fall out, that having
brought thy sweet oyles to annoint his whole
body, having shed as many teares as would have
washed more than his feet, and having not only
thy haire, but thy heart ready to serve him, hee
is not moved with all these duties, so much as
once to affoord thee his sight ? Is it not hee that
reclaimed thee from thy wandring courses, that
dispossessed thee of thy damned inhabitants;
and from the wilds of sinne, recovered thee into


the fold and family of his flock ? Was not thy
house his home, his love thy life, thyselfe his
disciple ? Did not hee defend thee against the
Pharisie, plead for thee against ludas, and
excuse thee to thy sister ? In summe, was not
hee thy patron and protector in all thy necessi-
ties ?

O good lesu, what hath thus estranged thee
from her ? thou hast heretofore so pittied her
teares, that seeing them, thou couldest not re-
frain thine. In one of her greatest agonies, for
love of her, that so much loved thee, thou didst
recall her dead brother to life, turning her com-
plaint into unexpected contentment. And wee
know that thou doest not use to alter course


without cause, nor to chastise without desert.
Thou art the first that invitest, and the last that
forsakest, never leaving but first left ; and ever
offering, till thou art refused. How then hath
shee forfeited thy favour ? or with what tres-
passe hath shee earned thy ill will ? That shee
never left to love thee, her heart will depose, her
hand will subscribe, her tongue will protest, her
teares will testifie, and her seeking doth assure.
And alas, is her particular case so farre from ex-
ample, that thou shouldest rather alter thy na-
ture, than shee better her fortune, and bee to her
as thou art to no other ? For our parts, since thy
last shew of liking towards her, we have found
no other fault in her, but that she was the earliest


up to seeke thee, readiest to annoint thee, and
when shee saw that thou wert removed, she
forthwith did weepe for thee, and presently went
for helpe to finde thee. And whereas those two
that shee brought, being lesse carefull of thee
than fearefull of themselves, when they had
scene what shee had said, sudainly shrunke
away, behold shee still stayeth, shee still seek-
eth, shee still weepeth. If this bee a fault, wee
cannot deny, but this shee doth, and to this shee
perswadeth ; yea, this shee neither meaneth to
amend, nor requesteth thee to forgive : if ther-
fore thou reckonest this as punishable, punished
shee must bee, sith no excuse hath effect where
the fact pleadeth guiltie. But if this import not


any offence but a true affection, and bee rather a
good desire than an evill desert, why art thou so
hard a judge to so soft a creature, requiting her
love with thy losse, and suspending her hopes in
this unhappinesse ? Are not those thy words, /
love those that love me, and who watcheth early
for me shall finde me ? why then doth not this
woman finde thee. that was up so early to watch
for thee ? Why dost thou not with like repay
her, that bestoweth upon thee her whole love,
sith thy word is her warrant, and thy promise
her due debt ? Art thou lesse moved with these
teares that shee sheddeth for thee her only Mas-
ter, than thou wert with those that shee shed be-
fore thee for her deceased brother ? Or doth he?


love to thy servant more please thee than her
love to thyselfe ? Our love to others must not bee
to them, but to thee in them. For hee loveth
thee so much the Jesse that loveth any thing
with thee. If therefore shee then deserved well
for loving thee in another, shee deserved better
now, for loving thee in thyselfe : and if indeed
thou lovest those that love thee, make thy word
good to her, that is so farre in love with thee.
Of thyselfe thou hast said, that thou art iht way,
the truth, and the life. If then thou art a way
easie to finde and never erring, how doth shee
misse thee ? If a life giving life and never end-
ing, why is shee ready to dye for thee ? If a
true promising truth, and never failing, how is


shee bereaved of thee ? For if what thy tonga c
did speake, thy truth will averre, shee will never
aske more to make her most happy. Remember
that thou saidst to her sister, that Mary had
chosen the best part, which should not bee taken
from her. That shee chose the best part is out
of question, sith shee made choice of nothing
but only of thee. But how can it be verified,
that this part shall not be taken from her, sith
thou, that art this part, art already taken away ?
If shee could have kept thee, shee would not
have lost thee : and had it beene in her power,
as it was in her will, shee would never have
parted from thee : and might shee now bee re-
stored to thy presence, shee would trie all for-


tunes rather than forgoe thee. Sith therefore
shee seeketh nothing but what shee chose, and
the losse of her choice is the only cause of her
combat, either vouchsafe thou to keepe this best
part that shee chose in her, or I see not how it
can bee true, that it shall not bee taken from her.
But thy meaning haply was, that though it bee ta-
ken from her eyes, yet it should never bee taken
from her heart : and it may bee, thy inward pre-
sence supplyeth thine outward absence : yet I can
hardly thinke, but that if Mary had thee within
her, shee could feele it ; and if shee felt it, she
would never seeke thee. Thou art too hot a fire
to bee in her bosome, and not to burne her, and
thy light is too great, to leave her minde in this


darkeness if it shined in her. In true lovers
every part is an eye, and every thought a looke,
and therefore so sweet an object among so many
eyes, and in so great a light, could never lye so
hidden but love would espie it. No, no, if Mary
had thee, her innocent heart (never taught to
dissemble) could not make complaint the outside
of a concealed comfort, neither would shee
tume her thoughts to pasture in a dead man's
tombe, if at home shee might bid them to so
heavenly a banquet. Her love would not have
a thought to spare, nor a minute to spend in
any other action, than in enjoying of thee,
whom shee knew too well, to abridge the least
part of her from so high an happinesse. For


her thirst of thy presence was so exceeding,
and the sea of thy joyes so well able to afford her
a full draught, that though every parcell in her
should take in a whole tide of thy delights, shee
would thinke them too few to quiet her desires.
Yea doubtlesse, if shee had thee within her, shee
would not envie the fortune of the richest em-
presse, yea, shee would more rejoyce to bee thy
tombe in earth, than a throne in heaven, and dis-
daine to bee a saint if shee were worthy to bee
but thy shrine.

But peradventure it is now with her mind, as
it was with the Apostles' eyes ; and as they see-
ing thee walke upon the sea took thee for a
ghost, so shee seeing thee in her heart, deemeth


thee but a fancy, being yet better acquainted with
thy bodily shape than with thy spirituall power.
But O Mary, it seemeth too strange, that liee
whom thou seekest, and for whom thou weepest,
should thus give thee over to these painful] fits,
if in thee hee did not see a cause for which hee
will not be seen of thee. Still thy plaint, and
stint thy weeping, for I doubt there is some tres-
passe in thy teares, and some sinne in thy sor-
row. Doest thou not remember his words to thee
and to other women, when hee said, daughters
of Jerusalem ! weepe not for mee, but weepe for
yourselves and for your children $ What mean-
est thou then to continue this course ? Doth hee
forbid thy teares, and wilt thou not forbeare


them ? Is it no fault to infringe his will, or is
not that his will that his words doe import ?
The fault must bee mended, ere the penance bee
released, and therefore either cease to weepe, or
never hope to finde. But I know this logicke
little pleaseth thee, and I might as soone win
thee to forbeare living as to leave weeping.

Thou wilt say, that though he forbad thee
to weepe for him, yet he left thee free, to weep
for thyselfe, and sith thy love hath made thee
one with him, thou weepest but for thyselfe,
when thou weepest for him. But I answer thee
againe, that because hee is one with thee, and
thy weeping for him hath beene forbidden thee,
thou canst not weepe for thyselfe, but his words


will condemne thee. For if thou and he are one,
for which soever thou weepest it is all one, and
therefore sith for him thou maist not weepe, for-
beare all weeping lest it should offend. Yea but
(sayst thou) to barre mee from weeping, is to
abridge mee of liberty, and restraint of liberty is
a penalty, and every penalty supposeth some of-
fence : but an offence it is not to weepe for my-
selfe, for hee would never command it, if it were
not lawfull to do it The fault therefore must
bee, in being one with him, that maketh the
weeping for myselfe, a weeping also for him.
And if this bee a fault, I will never amend it ;
and let them that thinke it so, doe penance for
it : for my part, sith I have lost my mirth, I


will make much of my sorrow, and sith I have
no joy but in teares, I may lawfully shed them.
Neither thinke I his former word a warrant
against his latter deed. And what need had hee
to weepe upon the Crosse, but for our example,
which if it were good for him to give, it cannot
be evill for mee to follow ? No, no, it is not my
weeping that causeth my losse, sith a world of
eyes and a sea of teares could not worthily be-
waile the misse of such a master.

Yet, since neither thy seeking findeth, nor thy
weeping prevaileth, satisfie thyself e with the
sight of angels. Demand the cause of their
comming, and the reason of thy Lord's remove,
and sith they first offer thee occasion of parley,


be not thou too dainty of thy discourse. It may
bee they can calme thy stormes, and quiet thy
unrest, and therefore conceale not from them
thy sore, lest thou lose the benefit of their em-
plaister. But nothing can move Mary to admit
comfort, or entertaine any company ; for to one
alone, and for ever, shee hath vowed herselfe,
and except it bee to him, shee will neither lend
her eare long to others, nor borrow other's helpe,
lest, by the seeking to allay her smarts, shee
should lessen her love. But drawing into her
mind all pensive conceits, shee museth and pin-
eth in a consuming languor, taking comfort in
nothing but in being comfortlesse.

Alas, (saith shee) small is the light that a


starre can yeeld when the sunne is downe, and
a sorry exchange to goe gather the crums after
the losse of an heavenly repast. My eyes are
not used to see by the glimpse of a sparke : and
in seeking the sunne, it is either needlesse or
bootlesse to borrow the light of a candle, sith ei-
ther it must bewray itselfe with the selfe light,
or no other light can ever discover it. If they
come to disburden mee of my heavinesse, their
comming will bee burdensome unto mee, and
they will load mee more while they labour my
releefe. They cannot perswade mee, that my
master is not lost, for my owne eyes will dis-
prove them. They can lesse tell mee where hee
may bee found, for they would not bee so simple


to bee so long from him : or if they can forbeare
him, surely they doe not know him, whom none
can truly know, and live long without him. All
their demurres would bee tedious, and discourses
irksome. Impaire my love they might, but ap-
pay it they could not, to which hee that first ac-
cepted the debt is the only payment, They ei-
ther want power, will, or leave to tell mee my
desire, or at the first word they would have done
it, sith angels are not used to idle speeches, and
to mee all talke is idle, that doth not tell mee of
my master. They know not where he is, and
therefore they are come to the place where hee
last was, making the tombe their heaven, and
the remembrance of his presence the food of


their felicitie. Whatsoever they could tell mee,
if they told mee not of him, and whatsoever they
could tell mee of him, if they told mee not where
hee were, both their telling and my hearing
were but a wasting of time. I neither came to
see them, nor desire to heare them. I came not
to see angels, but him that made both mee and
angels, and to whom I owe more than both to
men and angels.

And to thee I appeale, O most loving Lord,
whether my afflicted heart doth not truely defray
the tribute of an undivided love. To thee I ap-
, peale, whether I have joyned any partner with
thee, in the small possession of my poore selfe.
And I would to God I were as privie where thy


body is, as thou art, who is only Lord and owner
of my soule.

But alas, sweet lesu, where thou wert thou art
not ; and where thou art I know not ; wretched
is the case that I am in, and yet how to better it
I cannot imagine. Alas, O my only desire, why
hast thou left mee wavering in these uncertain-
ties, and in how wild a maze wander my doubt-
full and perplexed thoughts ? If I stay here
where hee is not, I shall never finde him. If I
goe further to seeke, I know not whither. To
leave the tombe is a death, and to stand helpe-
lesse by it an uncureable disease, so that all my
comfort is now concluded in this, thatl am free to
chuse whether I will stay without helpe, or goe


without hope, that is, in effect, with what tor-
ment I will end ray life. And yet even this were
too happy a choice for so unhappy a creature.
If I might bee chuser of mine owne death, O
how quickly should choice bee made, and how
willingly would I runne to that execution? I
would bee nailed to the same crosse, with the
same nailes, and in the same place : my heart
should bee wounded with his speare, my head
with his thornes, my body with his whips : Fi-
nally, I would taste all his torments, and tread
all his embrued and bloudy steps.

But O ambitious thoughts, why gaze you upon
so high a felicitie ? why thinke you of so glori-
ous a death, that are privie to so infamous a life ?


Death alas I deserve, yea, not one but infinite
deaths. But so sweet a death, seasoned with so
many comforts, the very instruments whereof
were able to raise the deadest corpse, and de-
pure the most defiled soule, were too small a
scourge for my great offences. And therefore I
am left to feele so many deaths, as I live houres,
and to passe as many pangs as I have thoughts
of my losse, which are as many as there are mi*
nutes, and as violent as if they were all in every
one. But sith I can neither die as hee died, nor
live where hee lieth dead, I will live out my
living death by his grave, and dye on my dying
life by his sweet tombe. Better is it after losse
of his body to looke to his sepulchre, than after


the losse of the one, to leave the other to bee
destroyed. No, no ; though I have been robbed
of the Saint, I will at the least have care of the
shrine, which though it be spoiled of the most
soveraigne host, yet shall it bee the altar where
I will daily sacrifice my heart, and offer up my

Here will I ever leade, yea, here do I meane
to end my wretched life, that I may at the least
bee buried by the tombe of my Lord, and take
my iron sleepe neere this couch of stone, which
his presence hath made the place of sweetest

(t may bee also that this empty syndon lyeth
here to no use, and this tombe being open with-


out any in it, may give occasion to some merck
full heart, that shall first light upon my unburied
body, to wrap mee in his shroud, and to interre
mee in this tombe.

^Otoo fortunate lot, for so unfortunate a wo-
man to crave : no, no : I do not crave it, for
alas, I dare not, yet if such an oversight should
be committed, I doe now, before hand, forgive
that sinner, and were it no more presumption to
wish it alive, than to suffer it dead, if I knew
the party that should first pass by mee, I would
woo him with my teares, and hire him with my
prayers, to blesse mee with this felicitie. And
though I dare not wish any to doe it, yet this
(without offence) I may say to all, that I love

this syndon above all clothes in the world> and
this tombe I esteeme more than any Prince's
monument : yea, and I thinke that corse highly
favoured, that shall succeed my Lord in it : and
tor my part, as I meane that the ground where
I stand shall bee my death-bed ; so am I not of
Jacob's mind, to have my body buried farre from
the place where it dyeth, but even in the next
and readiest grave, and that as soone as my,
breath faileth, sith delayes are bootlesse where
death hath won possession.

But alas, I dare not say any more, let my
body take such fortune as befalleth it : my soule
at the least shall dwell in this sweet paradise,
and from this brittle case of flesh and blood


passe presently into the glorious torabe of God
and man.

It is now enwrapped in a masse of corruption,
it shall then enjoy a place of high perfection :
where it is now, it is more by force than by
choice, and like a repining prisoner in a loathed
jaile : but there in a little roome it should find
perfect rest, and in the prison of death, the li-
berty of a joyfull life.

O sweet tombe of my sweetest Lord, while I
live I will stay by thee; when I die, I will
cleave unto thee: neither alive nor dead, will I
ever bee drawne from thee. Thou art the altar
of mercy, the temple of truth, the sanctuary of


safety, the grave of death, and the cradle of
eternall life.

O heaven of my eclipsed sun, receive unto
thee this silly starre that hath now also lost all
wished light.

O whale ! that hast swallowed my only lonas,
swallow also me, more worthy to be thy prey,
sith I, and not he, was the cause of this bloudy

O cesterne of my innocent Joseph, take me
into thy dry bottom, sith I, and not he, gave
jnst cause of offence to my enraged brethren.
But alas, in what cloud hast thou hidden the
light of our way ? Upon what shore hast thou
cast up the preacher of all truth ? or to what


Ismaelite hastthon yeelded the purveyour of our

Oh unhappy mee, why did I not before thinke
of that which I now ask ? Why did I leave him
when I had him, thus to lament him now tliat I
have lost him ? If I had watched with persever^
ance, either none would have taken him, or they
should have taken me with him.

But through too much precisenesse in keeping
the law, I have lost the law-maker ; and by be-
ing too scrupulous in observing his ceremonies,
I am proved irreligious in losing himselfe, sith
I should rather have remained with the truth,
than forsaken it to solemnize the figure.

The Sabboth could not have beene prophaned


in standing by his corse, by which the propha-
ned things are sanctified, and whose touch doth
not defile the cleane, but cleanseth the most de-

But when it was time to stay, I departed :
when it was too late to helpe, I returned : and
now I repent my folly, when it cannot be amend-

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