Amanda Or, The Reformed Whore. Composed, and made by Thomas Cranley |
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The penitentiall answer of the reformed Amanda.
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 | Amanda |  |
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The penitentiall answer of the reformed Amanda.
1
Oh thou that art the onely man alive,Which with these eyes I did desire to see.
Thou, thou, for whom my heart shall alwaies strive
To gratulate the kindnesse showne by thee,
Welcome a thousand, thousand times to me.
With that, the teares gusht from her eyes apace,
And silence staid her tongue a little space.
2
Then breaking forth in words againe, she said,Come deerest friend, and sit thee downe by me.
Thy presence makes me joy, and well appaid.
I have great matters to reveale to thee,
Such as till now I thought would never be.
Then rising from her seate, she lockt the dore,
And came, and sat downe by me as before.
3
And fixing earnestly her eye upon me,In a still silent manner she lookt on me,
And saie as if she had beene in a trance.
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And then the same within my hand she laide,
Whilest with a ruthfull voice these words she said.
4
I have perus'd each letter in thy Booke,And carefully considered every line.
I did advisedly the same overlooke,
Applying of it to this heart of mine:
Which is awakened by those words of thine,
And thereby doe I understand aright,
My much lamented state, and wretched plight.
5
I see the scope whereto thy thoughts doe tend,And understand the marke at which thou aim'st,
I finde thou art unto my soule a friend,
And through thy love thereto such right thou claim'st,
That thou wouldst save it, though my life thou blam'st.
Oh such a friend how can I truely prize?
With that the teares downe trickled from her eyes.
6
But doe not thinke, quoth she that thou hast wroughtOn a remorselesse stone, or senselesse stocke:
Let it not enter once into thy thought,
That thou hast beate an Adamantine rocke,
But unto me hast beene as Peters Cocke.
Checking my sinfull life, that I might know,
The path was ill which I had traced so.
7
Thou hast depainted here unto the life,The miserablest creature ever breath'd.
A female wretch, unfit to make a wife;
Shame to the sex, one of all good bereau'd.
That hath all mischiefe in her heart conceav'd.
That nought but ougly sinnes about her beares,
A foule offence unto all modest eares.
8
Thou hast before me laid what e'r is ill,67
All these with free consent, and willing will,
I have embrac'd, and none of them deni'd.
With many other fearefull sinnes beside.
Thou plainly hast discover'd unto me,
And made me see what erst I could not see.
9
How blinde was I, that knew not this before,And yet I know, I knew it too too well.
But wanted that true knowledge evermore,
That should unto my seared conscience tell,
That I was running downe the hill to hell.
Thou hast wide open set my hood-winkt eyes,
And made me see the divels fallacies.
10
Thou hast made knowne to me the short contentAnd fleeting comfort of a fading pleasure.
The miseries that waite on merriment,
Though they looke Gold-like, yet they are not treasure,
A sudden joy that brings forth griefe at leasure.
A gilded Pill, where poison lieth under,
A lightning flash before a clap of thunder.
11
Nor hast thou lost the labour that thou took'st,But brought thy paines unto a perfect end.
Thou hast obtain'd the thing for which thou look'st
And as thou hast exprest thy selfe a friend,
Beyond all friendship, and thy love doth tend
To so much good, as for to save a soule,
Teach me at full, my follies to condole.
12
For loe my heart is like to breake with sorrow,For my lost time, and for my life misled.
Well could I wish to die before too morrow,
And happie should I be if I were dead.
Since all true comfort from my heart is fled.
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I am not yet prepared for to die.
13
For my sad soule that is of sable hueStain'd with the spots of millions of sinne
Must with a floud of teares be washt anew:
My hardned heart to melt must first begin,
And let a true repentance enter in,
Before I can expect, or hope to have,
Comfort from him that di'd my soule to save.
14
Oh leave me not in this my great distresse,For feare I yeeld to desperation;
My sinfull heart doth feele such heavinesse,
And in it selfe such perturbation,
That I am voide of consolation;
Ready to sinke into the deepe abisse,
Of hels blacke gulfe, where nought but horror is.
15
Put forth thy helping hand to save me then,And keepe me from the hazard I am in:
Thou brought'st me downe, now raise me up agen.
And heale the sore that festred is by sinne,
Cure a sicke soule by wholesome medicine.
Purge the malignant humours which doe feede
The swelling vice that in my heart doth breede.
16
I must confesse I swim'd in lawlesse pleasure,And gave large reines unto my boundlesse lust.
I dranke all vices in an equall measure,
And let religion in my heart to rust,
And suffer'd on my conscience such a crust,
That no remorse or sorrow for my sinne,
Could have admittance, or once enter in.
17
A Taverne was the Temple I did use,A Stage the market where I bought, and sold,
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My Chamber the Exchange, my trade t'uphold.
There did I trafique, and contract for gold.
My ghostly father was a Galenist,
My Clarke a Pimpe, a Pander was my Priest.
18
I offer'd Holocausts on Venus Altar,And burned Incense to the god of Love.
My Praier-booke Astianassa's Psalter,
My Mattins were to Aphrodite above,
My Vespers would not Amarusia move,
Nor actions for a chaste Zenocrite,
But sitter for a wanton Chione.
19
Twas I that dranke iniquity like water,And with the sow did wallow in the mire.
I sported, like Adultus wanton daughter,
And let my selfe for money out to hire:
I was a bargaine fit for any buyer.
For Silver to mechanickes I was sold,
But with the Nobler sort I dealt for gold.
20
I caus'd the usurer to empt his bags,And made those fooles that were esteemed wise,
I shifted gallants from their robes to rags,
And chang'd their plush into a Countrey frize,
And by my cunning crafty policies.
I did allure the modest, and the chaste,
Of Cytheræan dainties for to taste.
21
All sorts, all ages, all degrees of men,I could apply my selfe to please their pallet.
To Lords, to Gentry, to the Citizen,
I could prepare my selfe a dainty sallet:
Or to the begger that doth beare the wallet.
And like unto Theramines his shoe,
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22
Let a new lover take what shape he would,As Neptune to Bisaltis like a Ramme.
As Jove to Danae in a showre of Gold.
Or to Ægina, in a fiery flame,
Or like a Swan, as he to Leda came,
Or to Europa, in a Bulls true shape,
He hardly could my wily snares escape.
23
As Rhodope the Thracian CurtezanDid make Caraxus spend his whole estate,
And so through want of meanes turne Pirate than,
Whereby he aid incurre a mortall hate,
And on himselfe a lasting scandall brought.
So hath my luxury consum'd to nothing
Rich heires, and made them steale for meat, and clothing.
24
How many men have perisht by my fault:And how am I made guiltie of their sinne?
Can J be ever sound that thus doe halt,
And by my winding plots, and cunning ginne,
Intrap't the simple, and ensnar'd them in.
Can J a ransome pay for this offence,
Or e'r be able to make recompence?
25
Oh noe, I cannot, for beside my owne,Other mens guilt lies heavie on my soule,
J have not beene content to sinne alone,
But caused others to make mine more foule,
And in their filthinesse did likewise rowle.
Their follies with mine owne J did conjoine,
And by commixtion made their vices mine.
26
J was as common as the Prœtides,Receiving all that came with joy, and mirth,
J thought on nothing but my owne delights.
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(Ah wicked wretch as e'r received birth)
My spotted life hath made me sathans denne,
Fuller of fiends then Mary Magdalene.
27
Her sinnes J doe commit, but want her sorrow,Of all the ill she had J am possest,
J get the bad, the good J cannot borrow:
J have her vices all, but want the rest.
Her worst acts J embrace, but leave the best.
My Saviours feete J wash not with my teares,
Nor (with her) doe J wipe them with my haires.
28
J want the gifts of grace that she had given,And her repentance, my hard heart to move.
J cannot apprehend the joies of heaven,
Nor love my Saviour with her ardent love,
My hearts desire with hers flies not above.
J feele no spirituall comfort in my soule,
Nor can J thoroughly my state condole.
29
All will be ready to report my shame,And blaze my infamie in everie eare.
But none will pleade my cause, to quit my blame,
Or for my sorrow that will shed a teare.
Or else excuse my fault when they it heare.
Indeed they cannot, for my foule abuse
Is farre beyond the reach of an excuse.
30
How then shall J finde comfort in my griefe,Or drive sad desperation from my heart?
My selfe unto my selfe yeelds no reliefe.
And other men no comfort will impart,
But rather adde more torment to my smart.
If thou shouldst leave me too, in my distresse,
Then must J die in all my wickednesse.
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31
Oh teach me truely to lament my sinne,And humble my proud heart by low submission:
Rowse me out of the sleepe that I am in,
That of my state I may have true cognition,
And make my peace with God by my contrition.
Instruct me in the perfect way of prayer,
Lest I fall headlong into deepe despaire.
32
Helpe me to pray to God, that he would showreInto my heart the graces of his Spirit.
That through his mercy, and his saving power
I may escape the guerdon of my merit,
And after life his heavenly blisse inherit.
Teach me to pray, teach me sweete friend, I say,
For I have almost quite forgot to pray.
33
My heart is willing, oh my heart is willing,I feele my conscience terrified by sinne,
Oh by my teares by these my teares downe trilling,
Lift up thy heart with mine, come, come, begin,
Lord ope my brest, that grace may enter in.
Rowse my dead heart, out of his drowsie den,
Pardon my faults, sweete Iesus say Amen.
34
Then from her eyes the teares did gush apace,And downe she fell upon her bended knees,
Wringing her hands, she did lament her case,
With sighes expressing her soules miseries.
In forcible, and strong Hiperbolees.
My sinnes, my sinnes she cries, with heav'd-up-hands,
Are more in number then the Starres, or Sands.
35
Then beating of her brest in wofull wise,With high swolne sobs, and heavie heart-sicke grones,
Now woe is me, now woe is me she cries,
My stinking sinnes lie boiling in my bones,
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And whilst like furies round about they hem me,
As a just Judge my conscience doth condemne me.
36
Listen, oh listen to my sad complaint,I have no friend to moane to, but to thee,
I need not with my follies thee acquaint,
Thou know'st my steps, how retrograde they be;
And how my vices have orewhelmed me.
Pity my case, and my sad state condole,
And adde some comfort to my sicke-growne soule.
37
Be thou my Pharos to direct me homeVnto the harbour of my heavenly rest,
Without a helpe to guide me, I shall roame,
And get a curse in seeking to be blest,
Good counsell to a soule that is distrest
Comes in fit season, and doth comfort bring,
To a sad heart, that's full of sorrowing.
38
My Parents have forsooke me long agoe,Detesting the vile course that I have led.
Brothers, and sisters neither will me know,
My neere alliance wish that I were dead.
My friends that sometime were, from me are fled.
My Parents, Brothers, Sisters, Kindred, Friends,
My very name their modest eares offends.
39
All have forsaken me, to let me perish,And sinke my soule into the Stygian deepe.
Denying any comfort me to cherish,
But in sinnes cradle suffering me to sleepe,
That thence I have no heart at all to peepe.
But snorting in a dead security,
I want the sence of my impuritie,
40
Nor have I hoarded treasure for my issue,74
In rich Embroider'd Silkes, and cloth of Tissue,
And when twas bought, it was not long unsold,
J thought not how to live when J was old.
But chang'd, and pawn'd, for to maintaine my pride
And for the present onely did provide.
41
For all the money that J have obtain'd,And golden fees by playing of the Whore,
Vnto my selfe no riches have J gain'd,
But all is quite consum'd, and J left poore,
Onely my wearing clothes, and nothing more.
“Sinnes golden gaines J see long will not last,
“Suddenlie got, as suddenlie doe wast.
42
For as a Mill that's set upon a riverPurposelie' built t'indure both winde, and wether,
By force of a strong current for to drive her,
Receives all Corne to grinde that is brought thither,
And all the Countrey neere is served with her.
Some bringing to her, others sent abroad,
And all of them deliver there their load.
43
She shifts her worke, and serves the turnes of all,And everie one paies tribute for her paine,
Some giving single, and some double toll,
Herselfe thereby not onely doth maintaine,
And keepe her in repare by such her gaine;
But to the Miller that doth keepe the Mill,
Supplies his wants, and doth releeve him still.
44
The like did J, for by my common trade,From everie one that came I had a share.
And by that custome a rich living made,
And therewith kept my selfe in good repare.
And so maintain'd my clothing, and my fare.
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My friends that kept me had it evermore.
45
For many came themselves, and brought their fee,Whereby I had great trafique, and great gaine:
A nurse I had to fetch some home to me.
They likewise would well pay me for my paine.
If one suffiz'd not, I could send forth twaine.
And what I got from many one by one,
I spent upon my secret friend alone.
46
Him did I feede with money, and with diet:With all things needfull, that he wanted nothing.
My Luxurie maintain'd his beastly riot,
Pawning my owne to buy him change of clothing:
To cure his wants, no filthy actions loathing.
What e'r by sinne I got, to him I sent it,
And he no sooner had it, but he spent it.
47
Thus did I alwaies gaine to keepe me poore,Still living bad to make another ill;
And to maintaine a knave, I plaide the whore,
And suffer'd want, that he might have his fill.
Killing my selfe another for to kill.
Sinne in my selfe, sinne foster'd in another,
A wicked issue of a wicked mother.
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Since then (my deerest friend) I did exposeMy selfe to infamy, and foule excesse,
Yet thereby nothing got, but still did lose,
And heape up sinnes, not feeling my distresse,
Till thou hast made me know my wretchednesse.
Loe I accuse, mislike, condole, repent,
My selfe, my fault, my state, my life mispent.
49
Here, take my clothes, and sell them all away,They are not for my wearing any more,
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Rich costly garments sute not with a Whore.
A proud-swolne heart becometh not the poore.
Those Iewels that I have, and rings of gold,
Receive them here, and let them all be sold.
50
What shall I doe with rich Tuftafaties,Wrought Velvets, Damaskes, Grogerams, and Plush,
Set forth with Lace, and rare Embroyderies?
My Purples, and my Scarlets make me blush,
My Muffes, and Fannes, I doe not wey a rush.
My fine Bonelaces, and my dainty Purles,
My Needle-workes, my Bracelets, and my Curles.
51
Take them sweete friend, and set them all to sale,My Earings, Pendents, and my chaines of Pearles.
My Rubies, Saphires, and my Diamonds all,
They are for Ladies, and for wives of Earles.
Not fit for Strumpets, and for light heel'd girles.
My dainty Linnen, Cambrickes, and my Lawnes,
Sell them away, and put them off for Pawnes.
52
Rifle my Chests, my Boxes, and my Trunkes,Seize all the goods within them, thou shalt finde,
Such things as those are farre unmeete for Punkes,
They suite not any longer with my minde.
Let them to better uses be assign'd.
Rich Iewels, gorgeous clothes, and garments fine.
Fit not a body so defil'd as mine.
53
Take them away, remove them from my sight,And put them off to any that will buy.
Then to the poore distribute every mite:
They doe deserve it better farre then I,
To them I doe bequeath it willingly.
Riches unjustly got from other men,
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And laying all these costlie robes aside,Procure for me some discontented blacke.
A plaine sad Gowne my nakednesse to hide,
That their appeare not lightnesse on my backe.
That giddy vanitie may goe to wracke.
Or as a fitter habit for my sinne,
A frocke of haire to clothe my carcase in.
55
And let me henceforth take my leave of mirth,As the unfittest subject of my minde.
Let not rejoycing in my heart have birth,
Vntill a spirituall gladnesse I doe finde,
And heavenly light of grace in me hath shiwd.
Let follies hatred, and sinnes discontent
Adde to my soule a ghostly merriment.
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Helpe me oh helpe me to some holy booke,To stirre my heart up to devotion.
Get me a Bible I therein may looke,
That Gods good Spirit in me may have motion,
And of his holy Word I may have notion.
And by the apprehending of the Deity,
Be stirred to the practice of true piety.
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Bring me acquainted with some good divine,That may direct me in the path to heaven.
And search this dull, and unsound heart of mine,
Lest I let all things goe at sixe, and seven.
And backeward fall, sowr'd with dissembling Leaven.
One that will well informe me in the right,
And trie me, lest I play the Hypocrite.
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Conduct me to the Temple of the Lord,Where I some powerfull Minister may heare,
That may unfold to me his sacred Word,
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And make his judgments unto me appeare.
And bringing me to see my wicked error.
Gods mercy may embrace me after terror.
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Get me a lodging in some private place,Where I may harbour with some modest wife.
That my acquaintance may not see my face,
Where I may lead a quiet civill life,
Voide of all anger, infamy, and strife.
That by contemning whatsoe'r is evill,
I may avoide the allurements of the divell.
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Or else direct me to some Countriie grange,The City is too full of base temptation:
That I may both my heart, and habit change,
And in a lonely private habitation,
Persue with constancy this alteration.
And weyning of my selfe from worldly pleasure,
By sudden leaving sinne, grow good at leasure.
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Looke to my steppes, and let thy watchfull eye,Have a regard unto my future course:
I dare not trust my selfe, lest presently
The power of sinne doe conquer me by force,
And by backesliding make me worse, and worse.
Let thy especiall care for my soules good,
Be still applying to me heavenly foode.
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For though I now resolve with constant heart,Never to take that wicked course againe,
And that the sence of sinne doth breed a smart,
In my sad soule, now thinking to refraine
From the blacke die, that will my conscience staine.
Yet still I feare, and feare it most of all,
Lest I againe into those follies fall.
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I know the divell hath a thousand baites,To catch me in the compasse of his Net.
I know he deales by counterfeits, and sleights,
And for my soule, faire seeming shewes doth set,
Till me intangled in his snares he get.
I know his art, and cunning pollicies,
And that doth make me feare his fallacies.
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Thou hast begun to manifest thy love,In striving to reclame me from my follie.
Let it not die, but whilst I live, and move
Persue therein, and let thy care be wholy
To guide me in the path of vertue soly.
Helpe to confirme me in my weake desires,
That my small sparkes of zeale may grow to fires.
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Helpe me to pray to God, to grant me grace,To persevere in this my reformation,
That I may now repent, whilst I have space,
Craving his spirit of regeneration,
And of my sinnes beginning retractation.
A willing heart I have to turne to heaven,
Pray for me then, that grace to me be given.
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And I will pray uncessantly that GodWould powre into my heart his holy Spirit;
That sinne in me may have a period,
And I his heavenly Kingdome may inherit.
And so receive his mercie not my merit.
Lord heare my praier, cleanse me from my sinne,
Open my heart, that grace may enter in.
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This said, she held her tongue, and spake no more,Wiping her eyes, and bending downe her head,
And sitting at my feete upon the stoare,
Which with her teares she had bewatered.
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(Oh my sweet friend) on thee my comfort lies,
Blest be the time that e'r I saw thine eyes.
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As by the hand thou raisest me from ground,(With that she rose, and looked in my face)
And sounding of my heart that was unsound,
Didst by thy meanes, assisted with Gods grace,
Awaken me, and let me know my case.
So fall not backe, but let thy constant love,
Rowse up my thoughts to raise them up above.
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Speake, wilt thou tell me what thou dost intend,Thou know'st my purpose, let me now know thine.
Wilt thou continue unto me a friend?
Thou seem'st to tender this poore soule of mine,
Dost thou unto my future good encline?
Boldly goe on, leave not the worke undone,
Finish the thing, thou hast so well begun.
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This said, she paus'd againe, and stopt her voice,Earnestly looking when I would replie:
Her sweete sad lookes did make my heart rejoice,
Seeing her sorrow was so heavenlie,
And from a heart voide of all fallacie;
And noteing thus how her desire was bent.
I made this answer, without complement.
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I see Amanda, what I joy to see,And what I did desire I might behold.
I hope thou dost not meane to flatter me,
And seeme to make that hot which is but cold.
And so make Brasse to shine like perfect Gold,
I doubt not, but thy manners are refin'd,
And being melted will be better coin'd.
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I trust thy sorrow is a reall sadnesse,81
And then that sorrow breeds in me such gladnesse,
To thinke that grace is in that heart immured
Which hath so many unto vice allured.
That all the powers I have, with free consent
Shall be applied to further thy intent.
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By a free gift (unmerited) from any,Had I receiv'd a thousand pounds in Gold,
Titles of honour, priviledges many,
And faithfull friends, as I am minutes old,
With other blessings, more than may be told,
They could not more rejoice this heart of mine,
Then this long-wisht conversion of thine.
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For Ile assure thee, I such pleasure takeIn this thy dolour for thy follies past;
That since thy sinne doth cause thy heart to ake,
This bitter is so sweet unto my taste,
That if thy sorrow with thy life doth last,
And thou repentest of thy wickednesse,
As now to me thou seem'st to doe no lesse.
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Here take my hand, and with my hand my heart,And what I say beleeve it to be true.
These eyes of mine out of mine head shall start.
The day that's past shall be begun anew,
And things consum'd shall come againe to view.
Before I faile unto my utmost power,
To adde unto thee comfort every houre.
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Take thou no thought for clothing, or for foode.Nor any thing that may procure content.
My care shall be so much to doe thee good,
Both for thy soules, and bodies aliment:
That thou shalt want nothing convenient.
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I will informe thee in the path divine.
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Such things as are not for thy wearing fit,Thy gorgeous cloathes, thy jewels, and the rest
Leave them to me, I will dispose of it,
And change them for thy good, as I thinke best.
Vnto thy ranke thou shalt be neately drest.
In civill manner, but for gay attire,
It must not suite at all with thy desire.
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Thy goods dispos'd of, I will thee provide,Of all things fit for a reformed minde.
A Bible, and some holy bookes beside,
Wherein thou mayst a heavenly comfort finde,
I will procure thee, as thou hast enjoyn'd,
Set formes of prayer, for a contrite sinner,
Thou shalt not want fit for a young beginner.
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I have a mother vertuously dispos'd,An ancient matron, pious, and devout:
To whom I have this my intent disclos'd,
And what herein at first I went about,
Whilst I of thy conversion was in doubt.
She shall receive thee with the greatest care,
Providing for thy lodging, and thy fare.
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I have a sister much about thy yeeres,A hopefull mayd, religious, and chast,
And such a one as the Almighty feares.
That all uncivill actions doth distaste.
And is with many spirituall blessings grac't.
She shall yeeld comforts to thee many a one,
And be thy loving kinde companion.
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If thou wilt heare, Ile read to thee each day,Precepts for prayer, rules for meditation.
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In private Votes, or publique congregation,
And lead thee in the path to thy salvation.
And if thy pleasure thereunto inclines.
I will acquaint thee, with profound Divines.
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Ile lead thee forth to Sermons every weeke,And unto common Service twice a day,
The most approved Preachers I will seeke.
That through thy eare shall to thy heart convey
Such heavenly comforts, that when thou dost pray,
Thou shalt be rapt with a divine delight,
Of the Almighties mercy, and his might.
83
If that the City doth content thee best,Live in the City to thy hearts content,
Or if the Countrey yeeld thee better rest,
Vnto the Countrtey life I give consent.
All places are alike for to repent.
If that the heart desires th' Almighties grace,
God doth accept the person, not the place.
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Make thou thy peace with God, by thy contrission,I with thy friends will labour for thy peace.
Appease Gods wrath by hearty true submission:
I doubt not but thy Parents wrath shall cease,
And their fresh love shall mightily increase.
That aged couple, all thy friends beside,
Will joy, that in thy sinnes thou ha'dst not di'd.
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Be of good cheere, and walke along with me,This is no fitting place for thee to stay:
My mother, sister, and my selfe for thee,
Will make provision, as is fit straightway.
We will all take thee to our charge this day.
For nothing but thy soule doe thou take thought,
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Tell me, quoth I, art thou well pleas'd with this?And dost thou freely thereunto assent?
I am, quoth she, and thinke the greatest blisse
Waites on me now, that e'r to me was sent:
Thy pleasure Ile attend incontinent,
Dispose of me as thou thinkst best to day,
Vnto thy will, I willingly obey.
87
With that I cal'd a Porter to the doore,And bid him take her Boxes, and her Chest,
Her Trunkes, her Bed, her Goods, and all her store,
And bring them to my house where they should rest.
And to be ordred then, as I thought best.
To which command of mine he did consent,
And so convei'd them thence incontinent.
88
Then did I take Amanda by the hand,Whilst with my tongue I made her this replie:
Since thou hast vow'd to be at my command,
Yeelding thy selfe into my custody,
Accepting of my offer courteously,
Be of good courage, come along with me,
Ile be thy safegard, none shall injure thee.
89
This said, we both together left the roome,And I conducted her along the street,
Vntill I brought her to my Mothers home,
Whereas at doore my Sister did her meete,
And then my Mother did her kindly greete:
And entertain'd her in most courteous wise,
As either of them could in heart devise.
90
Then did Amanda live, and spend her time,In holy duties, reading, and in prayer,
With griefe lamenting her fore-passed crime.
85
(Through horror of her sinne) of blacke despaire.
But of Gods speciall grace, he did impart
The joy of his good Spirit to her heart.
91
For many good Divines did flocke unto her,Applying godly comforts to her soule,
And greatly striving their best good to doe her,
Taught her so well her follies to condole,
And mortifie her sinnes erewhile so foule,
That they at length by daily information,
Wrought in her a good hope of her salvation.
92
Then with more comfort would she pray, and talke,Yet pensive still, of sinne she would complaine,
Forth of the house she seldome times would walke,
Vnlesse it were to Church, and backe againe.
If she were well, she would not thence abstaine.
Sermons, and Service she did oft frequent,
And to no place as Church, so gladly went.
93
There would she listen with her best attention,And pray as earnestly as any prai'd,
Avoiding sinne by diligent prevention,
And workes with faith to couple she assai'd,
Desires of pleasure were in her decai'd.
The onely path in which she striv'd to trace,
Was to repent for sinne, and pray for grace.
94
Oh how she loath'd the very name of whore,And all that led a wicked wanton life,
Their sinfull courses she did much deplore.
The unmarried wench, the widow, and the wife,
As she knew many in those actions rife.
So she endeavour'd moving them by letter,
For to reclaime them, and to make them better.
86
95
No roaring youngster came within her sight,Nor lustfull Prodigall all did see her face.
Her secret friend, that was her sole delight,
Was now forsaken, and quite out of grace:
Whereas she lay, he must not know the place.
Nor he, nor any now must looke upon her,
That had before attempted her dishonour.
96
Thus did she leade her life unto her death,Dying to sinne, and living unto grace,
To goodnesse wholly she did her bequeath:
She tooke no pleasure in her comely face,
Nor any evill motion did embrace.
But spent her time in holy contemplation,
To beate downe sin, & shame the worlds temptation
97
Two yeares she liv'd in sound, and perfect health,The most reformed creature on the earth:
She had not much, and yet desir'd no wealth,
Humble she was, as one of meanest birth.
And more inclin'd to sadnesse then to mirth.
Vaine pratling, and much talking she despises,
Delighting most in pious exercises.
98
She did no company at all admit,But modest vertuous, and of good report.
To talke of Plaies she would not heare of it,
She tooke no joy in any kinde of sport,
Meetings at Tavernes, now she car'd not for't.
She did not seeke for to augment her store,
And what she had to give, she gave the poore.
99
She did abandon every earthly pleasure,Delighting onely in religious bookes.
Her godly zeale did make the heavens her treasure,
From thence alone she for her comfort lookes,
87
And all her hopes on which she did depend,
Was on Christs merits, at her latter end.
100
After two yeeres that she had lived thus,She fell through griefe into a heckticke feaver,
The which at length did grow so dangerous,
That of all hopes of health it did bereave her,
And never left her, till her life did leave her.
Weaker, and weaker still she pin'd away,
And saw how nature in her did decay.
101
She knew her thred of life was almost spun,And with great patience tooke her visitation.
She did rejoyce her life so neere was done,
Being acquainted long with tribulation.
And now her heart with heavenly consolation
Was so replenisht, and with such delight,
She would not longer live, if that she might.
102
Her griefe grew stronger still, as she grew weake,Hasting apace to bring her to her end.
At length she did desire, with me to speake,
Where at her bed I straight way did attend,
Then reaching me her hand, she said, my friend,
My onely friend, thy love through heavens grace,
Hath-sav'd the sinfull'st soule that ever was.
103
The booke thou sent'st, that little Paper booke,Wherein thou did'st unmask my foule offence;
Behold, and see what true effect it tooke,
That booke, I say did worke in me the sence
Of my owne follie, and my impudence.
I blesse the time, for this thy blessed favour,
And blesse the Lord, that blest thy good endeavour.
104
And here my latest thankes to thee I give.88
My houre is come, I can no longer live,
Wear't for my sake, although a worthlesse thing,
I cannot recompence thy meriting.
My tongue doth faile, goe toule, the passing bell,
A thousand times (sweet friend) farewell, farewell.
105
This said, she drew her hand into the bed,The time approaching of her latest end:
Then turning up her eyes to heav'n, she sed,
Lord to thy hands I doe my spirit commend.
Then to the wall her body did she bend.
And with a feeble voice againe she cri'd,
Jesus receive my soule, & so she di'd.
106
And so she di'd, & so she di'd to live:And living, as she did, she sweetely di'd,
Her death to her, a lasting life did give,
Her life before her death was mortifi'd,
And at her death, her life beatifi'd.
Death vanquisht life, concluding of her paine,
Shee liv'd, to die, and di'd to live againe.
FINIS.
| Amanda | |