 | Theophilus |  |
V.
After thre nightes space the glorious mother of God appeared vnto Theophilus, greevouslye chalenginge him for his myserable ffacte; after which mercyfullye willinge him to persyste in his penitent purpose, and shee wolde doe what her gloryous sonne wolde admytt for his reconscyliation.
103
Att thirde deyes nyght, the mother of mercye,Moved with pyttye towardes this sinner,
Shewed her selfe to this sorowfull partye,
Though at the firste in much dreadfull manner,
For that hee was vnder the devylles baner;
To whom this gloryous heavenlye Empresse
After this sorte her pleasure dyd expresse:
104
‘O man’, shee sayde, ‘yf man I maye thee call,But rather much more impe of the fowle ffynde,
For that thow art become his certayne true thrall,
Against the nature of all humaine kynde;
For thowe, ordayned by Goddes will and mynde,
Of that traytor in glorye to supplye,
Haste geaven thee to him, to Godes will contrarye.
100
105
Who gaue thee boadye, sowle, wytte and reason?Hee whom thow haste choasen to thy governoure?
Who payde thy raunsome in neadfull season,
When thow were captiue vnder the ffyndes powre?
Thy maister nowe the authour of errowre!
Whoe geaveth lyfe, after thys lyfe is spent?
—The devill, thy lorde, that cursed serpent?
106
No, wicked person, theis graces each one,With other all that number anye can,
God high in heaven, that sitteth there in throne,
Them gaue vnto thee, and to eaverye man.
Howe happened thee to goe from hym than
Vnto his enemye moste vttermoste to saye?
No such of his mercye maye haue anye waye.
107
I wote his mercye doth passinglye abounde,But that on synners thus doth bestowe,
That fall of frailte, and lyste not compounde
For this worldes lukre.—The ffynde to followe,
As thowe haste doone,—all the heavens doth yt knowe,—
Thowe not therto dryven, but of sett consent,
Howe canst thowe of mercye desire the talent?
108
What though promotion gan thee to fayle,Shalt thowe to the devill geue thy self therfore?
Doth not blessed Paule geue all this counceyll,
None such to seeke after lesse other more,
But as shall please God therto to restore,
Sith daunger thearin? Thowsandis hath agreede
To wrappe them in willfull povertyes weede.
109
Or how darest thowe to invocat(e) meeTo shewe thee anye auxiliation?
Fforsakinge my sun, thus playne doth agree
To dooe mee the lyke vytuperation.
O cursed caytif! worthye dampnation
For of thy facte, that is the condygne pryce
Yf thow receaue, accordinge to iustice.
110
In deade, to synners I am debonayre,That synneth thorowe the ffyndes entysement,
And am readye to heare theire prayer,
With what I can doe to there hartes easment.
My Lorde and sun is therwith all content.
101
Thy case so greevous, I wote not what to saye’.
111
Theophilus, hearinge her grevous challenge,His harte it was perced, eaven thorowe owte,
In manner as doore hanginge half by the henge,
Of anye her helpe standinge in great dowbte.
With cheere amated, he lowlye dyd lowte,
And as he cowlde from weepinge snobbis forbeare,
Sayde his mynde, in sorte as ye shall heare:
112
‘O glorious Ladye, your sayinge is moste true,I haue most cursedlye wandred astraye,
And neaver worthye hys mercye to endue,
If in eavin ballaunce my synne hee dooe waye.
Oughtes for myne excuse I no wise can laye,
But to acknowledge, with lachrimable iyen,
Never anyes syn to be accompted to myne.
113
I shame, o Ladye, to shue vnto thy grace.I shame to name the glorious name of thyne.
I shame to thinke on thy bewtyous face.
I shame, owte of kinde so farre to declyne.
I shame that I am besoyled lyke swoyne.
I shame my creatour so soare to offende.
I shame that I am on of the ffyndes bende.
114
Woworth this worldes false glytteringe glorye!Woworth hys honors that syn doth entyce!
Woworth, in hym are thowsandis so sorye!
Woworth then all his pleasures and delyce!
Woworth no better is all hys devyce!
Woworth the tyme I spent my tyme therin!
Woworth wherbye I fallen am in syn!
115
I can but sorowe my greevous offence.I can but humblye acknowledge the same.
I can for remyssion make noe pretence.
I can on my self but laye my synnes blame.
I can but hyde mee in corner for shame.
I can by no meanys my trespace conseale.
I can but, as gyltye, for mercy appeale.
116
My bodye, my sowle, with reason and wytteReceavinge of God, with benefytis all:
So negligentlye from such Lorde to flytte,
102
Which soare I lament, and eavermoore shall,
Besechinge thye mercyfull motherlye pyttee,
Vnto thy sun my advocatryce to bee.
117
And whille in this lief I haue my beinge,I shall, with moste warefull and vygylante iye,
Beware the lyke falle, by thys falle feelinge,
And take thee for my soveraign Ladye,
Honorynge thee hyperdulyallye
Aboue all creatures, next to thye sun,
For that, by thee, meanys vnto liefe begun’.
118
The mercyfull Queene that willeth all well,Adnotinge hys sorowes thorowe fullye,
Shee wylde hym in that good purpose to dwelle,
And shee wolde move to her sun allmyghtie
As to vouchesafe to take hym to mercye,
Shewinge him theare passinge soveraigne;
Sayinge, ere longe shee wolde see him againe.
119
Oh so that sight lightyned hys harte,So specyall sweete at her departure;
Though firste to hym shewinge her self smarte,
Shee soone relented and tooke of hym cure,
For ferther comforte which dyd hym assure.
The inwarde reioysinge, that hee dyd take,
I cannot therof rehersall heare make.
120
Then was hys harte moste vehemente on fyerBy inwarde contryte contemplation.
No earthlye comforte hee owghtes dyd desyer,
His tearys weare meate. To his contentation
Inough suffysed the consolation
Of that noble celestiall Empresse,
That shewed her self in hys neadfull dystresse.
121
Hys tearys he doboled of joyfull entent,In hope of hys synnes full remyssion.
Bedewed all abowte was the pavyment
With the vearye tearys of hys contrytion,
Full myndinge to leaue all olde condytion,
And to become, his lief contynuinge,
A true penytent to Goddes pleasinge.
| Theophilus | |