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Mat. 22.

Neither durst any man from that day, aske him any more questions.

Id'st all the darke and knotty snares,

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M Black wit or malice can, or

Thy glorious wisedome breaks the Nets,
And treds with uncontrouled steps;
Thy quell'd foes are not onely now
Thy triumphs, but thy Trophies too:
They both at once thy Conquests bee,
And thy Conquests memorie.
Stony amazement makes them stand
Wayting on thy victorious hand,
Like statues fixed to the fame

Of thy renoune, and their own shame,
As if they onely meant to breath

To be the life of their own death.
Twas time to hold their peace, when they
Had ne're another word to say,

Yet is their silence unto thee,
The full sound of thy victorie;
Their silence speaks aloud, and is
Thy well pronounc'd Panegyris.
While they speak nothing, they speak all
Their share in thy Memoriall.
While they speake nothing, they proclame
Thee, with the shrillest trump of fame.

To hold their peace is all the wayes
These wretches have to speake thy praise.

Upon our Saviours tombe wherein never man was laid.

Ow life and death in thee



Thou had'st a virgin wombe,

A Joseph did betroth

And tombe,

Them both.


It is better to goe into heaven with one eye, &c.


ONe eye?

Ne eye? a thousand rather, and a thousand more,
To fix those full-fac't glories, ô hee's poore
Of eyes that has but Argus store.

Yet if thou'lt fil one poor eye, with thy heaven, & thee,
O grant (sweet goodnesse) that one eye may be
All and every whit of me.

Luke. II.

Upon the dumb Devill cast out, and the slanderous Jewes put to silence.

Vo devills at one blow thou hast laid flat,
A speaking Devill this, a dumbe [one] that.
Was't thy full victories fairer increase,


That th' one spake, or that th' other held [his] peace?

Luke. 10.

And a certaine Priest comming that way, looked on him and passed by.


Handling & turning them with an unwounded eye?
The calme that cooles thine eye does shipwrack mine, for ô,
Unmov'd to see one wretched is to make him so.

Hy doest
doest thou wound my wounds, & thou that
passest by,

Luke. 11.

Blessed be the Paps which thou hast sucked.
Uppose he had been tabled at thy Teates,

Hee'l have his Teat e're long, a bloody one,
The mother then must suck the son.

To Pontius washing his blood-sta[in]ed hands.

'SMurther no sin? Or a sin so cheape

That thou did'st heape
A Rape upon't? till thy adult'rous touch

Taught her these sullied cheeks, this blubber'd face,
She was a Nimph, the meadows knew none such,
Of honest parentage, of unstain'd race,
The daughter of a faire, and well fam'd fountaine,
As ever Silver-tipt the side of shadie mountaine.

See how she weeps, and weepes, that she appeares
Nothing but teares,
Each drop's a teare, that weeps for her owne wast;
Harke how at every touch she does complaine her;
Harke how she bids her frighted drops make hast,

And with sad murmurs, chides the hands that staine her:
Leave, leave for shame, or else (good judge) decree
What water shal wash this, when this hath washed thee.

Mat. 23.

Yee build the Sepulchres of the Prophets.


Hou trim'st a Prophets Tombe, and dost bequeath The life thou took'st from him unto his death: Vaine man! the stones that on his Tombe doe lye Keep but the score of them that made him dye.

Upon the Infant Martyrs.

O see both blended in one flood,


The Mothers milke, the Childrens blood,
Makes me doubt if heav'n will gather

Roses hence, or Lillies rather.

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Joh. 16.

Verily I say unto you, yee shall weep and lament.
Elcome my Grief, my Joy; how deare's?
To me my Legacie of Teares!
I'le weepe, and weepe, and will therefore
Weepe, 'cause I can weepe no more:


Thou, thou (Deare Lord) even thou alone,
Giv'st joy, even when thou givest none.

John 15.

Upon our Lord's last comfortable discourse with his Disciples.
LL Hybla's honey, all that sweetnesse can,
Flowes in thy Song (ô faire, ô dying swan!)
Yet is the joy I take in't small or none;
It is too sweet to be a long-liv'd one.


Luke 16.

Dives asking a drop.


Drop, one drop, how sweetly one faire drop
Would tremble on my pearle-tipt fingers top?
My wealth is gone, ô goe it where it will,
Spare this one jewell; I'le be Dives still.

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But now they have seen and hated. Eene? and yet hated thee? they did not see, They saw thee not, that saw and hated thee: No, no, they saw thee not, ô Life, ô Love, Who saw ought in thee that their hate could move.


Upon the Crowne of thornes taken downe from the
head of our B. Lord bloody.

K Nov

Now'st thou this Souldier? 'tis a much chang'd plant, which yet

O! who so hard a husbandman

Is not the soyle a kind one which returnes

Thy self did'st set, did ever find,

A soyle so kind?

Roses for Thornes?

Luke 7.

She began to wash his feet with teares, and wipe them
with the haires of her head.

Er eyes flood lickes his feetes faire staine,
Her haires flame lickes up that againe:
This flame thus quench't hath brighter beames,
This flood thus stained, fairer streames.



On St. Peter cutting off Malchus his eare. Ell Peter dost thou wield thy active sword, Well for thy selfe (I meane) not for thy Lord: To strike at eares, is to take heed there be No witnesse Peter of thy perjury.


Joh. 3.

But men loved darknesse rather than light.

He world's light shines, shine as it will,

I doubt though when the World's in Hell,
It will not love its Darkenesse halfe so well.

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