University of Virginia Library

THE FIFTH ACT.

JOSEPH OF ARIMATHEA.
NICODEMVS.
See, Citizens, we Pilats bounty beare:
With-out a suite men cannot man interre.
The Romane Progeny nor freely will
Doe what is good; nor, unrewarded ill.
Nothing is now in use but barbarous Vice:
They sell our bloud, on graves they set a price.

NICODEMVS.
O Joseph, these vaine extasies refraine:
But if it seeme so pleasant to Complaine,
Let Rome alone, and seek a neerer guilt:
His bloud not Romulus sons, but Abrahams spilt.
VVho so the purer sense sincerely draws
From those celestiall Oracles and Lawes,
By God above himselfe inspir'd, will say
None led to Eternitie a straighter way.
VVhat's that to Pilat? fell the Innocent by
A Romane Oath? was't through the subtilty
Of Senators or Priests? The Doome display'd
They Cæsar lesse then Caiaphas obay'd.
Let us transferre the fact; the impious Jew
VVith heart, with tongue and eyes, first Jesus slew:
The Romans onely acted their Offence.
How well the Heavens with Hebrew hands dispence!
For this the Jew th'Italians Crime envi'd,
And wish'd himselfe the bloody Homicide.
Doe we as yet our servitude lament,
VVhen such a murder meets no punishment?
This doe they, this command.

JOSEPH.
The Progeny
Of Romane Ilia, and of Sara, I
VVith equall detestation execrate.
O may they perish by a fearefull Fate!
Just Heaven, why sleepes thy Lightning! in a Showre
Of pitch descend: Let stenching Seas devoure
This cursed City. Sodome, thou art cleare,
Compar'd to ours. No more will I a teare
Shed for my Countrey. Let the Great in War,
VVorse then the Babylonian Conquerar,
Enter her Breaches like a violent Floud,
Vntill the bloudy City swim in bloud.
Is this too little? Let Diseases sow
Their fruitfull Seed, and in destruction grow:
Famine, in their dry entrailes take thy seat;
VVhat Nature most abhors, inforce to eat.
Let th'Infant tremble at his Fathers knife;
The Babe re-enter her who gave it Life.
VVhile yet the eager Foe invests the wall,
VVithin may they by their own weapons fall:
The Temple wrapt in flames. Let th'Enemy
Decide their Civill Discord, and destroy
VVith sire and sword ungratefull Solyma:
The reliques of their slaughter drive away;
Nor seventy yeers dissolve their servill bands;
Despis'd, and wretched, wander through all Lands:
Abolish'd be their Law; all forme of State:
No Day see their returne. Let sudden Fate
Succeed my curses. This infected Soyle
No more shall feed me. What unusuall toyle
Shall my old feet refuse, so they no more
Tread on this Earth! though to that unknown shore,
VVhich lyes beneath the slow Bootes VVaine,
Dasht by th'unconstant billows of that Maine.
That Countrey shall be mine, where Justice swayes;
And bold Integrity the Truth obayes.

NICODEMVS.
This Error with a secret poyson feeds
The minds Disease. VVho censures his own deeds?
VVho not anothers? These accusing Times
Rather the men condemne, then taxe their Crimes.
Such is the Tyranny of Judgement; prone
To sentence all Offences, but our owne.
Because of late we cry'd not Crucifie,
Nor falsely doom'd the Innocent to die,
Our selves we please: as it a Vertue were;
And Great one, if from great Offences cleare.
Confesse; what Orator would plead his Cause?
To vindicate his truth who urg'd the Laws?
Or once accus'd their bloudy suffrages,
By Envy sign'd? VVho durst those Lords displease?
So Piety suffer'd, while by speaking they,
And we by silence, did the Just betray.
VVhen women openly their zeale durst show,
VVe, in acknowledging our Master, slow,
Vnder the shady coverture of Night
Secur'd our feares, which would not brook the Light.
Joseph, at length our faith it selfe exprest;
But to the Dead.

JOSEPH.
This is a truth confest.
The Evening now restored Day subdues:
And lo, the Vigil with the Night enseues.
Not farre from Golgotha's infamous Rocks
A Cave there is, hid with the shady Locks
Of funerall Cypresse, hewne through living stone:
The house of Death; as yet possest by none.
My Age this chose for her eternall rest:
VVhich now shall entertaine a nobler Guest.
That ample Stone which shuts the Sepulcher,
Shall the inscription of his Vertues beare.
VVho knows but soon a holier Age may come,
VVhen all the World shall celebrate this Tombe;
And Kings as in a Temple here adore;
Through fire and sword sought from the farthest Shore?

NICODEMVS.
Pure water of the Spring, you precious Tears,
Perfumes which Odor-breathing Saba beares,
VVith your preservatives his body lave,
Sinke through his pores, and from corruption save.
Nor God, nor Fate will suffer, that this pure,
This sacred Corps, should more then death indure.
Religion, if thou know'st the Shades below,
Let never filthy putrefaction flow
Through his uncover'd bones; nor wast of Time
Resolve this heavenly figure into slime.

JOHN.
MARY THE MOTHER OF JESVS.
Thou reverent Virgin, of his royall Bloud,
Who all between the Erythrean Floud
And great Euphrates won by strenuous Armes:
Assume his noble fortitude; those harmes
Which presse thy Soul, subdue: ungentle Fate
Hath by undoing thee secur'd thy state.
Fortune her strength by her own blowes hath spent.
Judæa's kingdome from thy Fathers rent
By forrein hands; of ancient Wealth berest;
Except thy Son, what was for danger left?
These stormes by death disperst, serene appeare:
For what hath childlesse Poverty to feare?

MARY.
O John, for thee in such extreames to mourn
Perhaps is new: but I to grief was born.
With this have we convers't twice sixteen yeares:
No form of sorrow hath beguil'd our feares.
To me how ominously the Prophets sung,
Even from the time that heavenly Infant sprung
In my chaste Wombe! Old Simeon this reveal'd;
And in my Soul the deadly wound beheld.
When One, among so many Infants slain,
Was by the Tyrants Weapons sought in vain,
No miracles had then his fame displaid,
Or him the object of their envy made.
Perfidious Fraud in Sanctities disguise,
Nor the adulterated Pharisies,
By his detection had he yet inflam'd;
Nor for despising of their Rites defam'd;
A Trumpet of intestine Warre: the Earth
Of nothing then accus'd him, but his birth.
Not that fierce Prince, so cruell to his Own;
Nor his Successour in that fatall Throne,
As high in vice, who with the Prophets Head
Suppli'd his Feast, and on the bloud he had shed
Fed his incestuous eyes, in dire delight
To highten impious Love, could me affright:
Nor yet the vulgar, hating his free tongue;
And showres of stones by a thousand Furies flung.
I though no mischief could our steps pursue,
That was more great; or to our sufferings new.
What wants example, what no mother fear'd;
This, this alone my dying hopes inter'd.
Wretch, wilt thou seek for words t'expesse thy woes!
Or this so vast a grief in silence close!
Great God (such is my faith) why wouldst thou come
To this inferiour Kingdome through my wombe!
Why mad'st thou choice of me to bring thee forth
For punishment! unhappy in my worth!
No woman ever bare a Son, by touch
Of man conceiv'd, whose Soule indures so much:
No mother such an issue better gain'd;
Nor lost it worse; by cursed Death profan'd.

JOHN.
What lowder grief with such an emphasis
Strikes through mine eares! What honour'd Corse is this,
With Tyrian linen vail'd? What's he whose haires
Contend with snow, whose eies look through their tears,
Who on those veins, yet bleeding, odors powres?
Or his assistant, crown'd with equall houres?
What troops of women hither throng! what stormes
Rise in their looks! Grief wanders through all formes.
My eyes, ah! wound my Heart. This was thy son;
This is thy bloud, thy mangled flesh. O run,
Take thy last kisses, ere of those bereft
By funerall: What else of all is left?

MARY.
My Soul, tyr'd with long miserie,
Amidst these greater Sorrows die;
While Grief at his sad Exequies
Poures out her last Complaints in these.
Let me this snowy Paul unfold,
Once more those quickning looks behold.
O Son, born to a sad event;
Thus, thus, to thy poore Mother sent!
O Salem, was thy hatred such,
To murder him who lov'd so much!
Ah see, his side gor'd with a spear!
Those hands, that late so bounteous were,
Transfixt! his feet pierc'd with one wound!
The Sun had better never found
His losse, then with restored light
To shew the World so dire a sight.
You Neighbours to the Suns up-rise,
Who read their motions in the Skies;
O you in chief who found your Lord,
And with such lively Zeal ador'd,
Now view the Heavens inverted laws:
With me bewail the wretched Cause.
His Birth a Starre, new kindled, sign'd:
To see his Death the Sun grew blinde.
Thou hope of my afflicted State;
Thou living, I accus'd not Fate:
The Day again with light is crown'd,
But thou in Night for ever drown'd.
O could'st thou see my broken heart!
The flowing teares these springs impart!
Thy mother, whom man never knew;
Who by the Word then fruitfull grew:
My Womb admir'd that unknown Guest,
Whose burden for nine Moones increast.
Thy Mother, to a Scepter borne,
With age and wrinkling sorrow worne,
This Countrey sees to get her bread
With labour, in an humble Shed.
Thy milk from these two fountaines sprung:
These armes about my neck have hung,
Coucht on the flowry bancks of Nile:
Ægypt, so just to thy exile,
Hath now redeem'd her former Curse;
Our Jews then those of Memphis worse.
If his chast bloud at length asswage
The bitter tempest of your rage;
If you can pitty misery,
O let me by your mercy dye:
Or, if not glutted with his bloud;
With mine increase this purple floud.
O my deare sonne! what here our eyes behold,
What yonder hung, or what Death could infold
In endlesse Night; is mine, and onely mine:
No mortall did in thy conception joyne,
Nor part of thee can challenge: Since the losse
Was onely ours, let us the griefe ingrosse.
Vngratefull Man! who his Protector slew:
Nor feels his Curse, nor then his Blessing knew.
Poore wretch! no soule in thy defence durst rise:
And now the murdred unrevenged lies.
The Lame, who by thy powerfull Charmes were made
Sound and swift-footed, ran not to thy aide:
Those Eies, which never saw the glorious Light
Before thy soveraign touch, avoid thy sight:
And others, from Deaths silent mansion by
Thy Vertue ravish'd, suffer'd thee to dye.

JOHN.
Too true is thy Complaint, too just thy Woes:
Such were his friends, whom from a World he chose.
O desperate Faith! from whence, from whom are we
Thus falne! our Soules from no defection free!
Some sold, forswore him; none from tainture cleare;
All from him fled to follow their owne feare.
Thou Oracle! a father in thy care,
In love a brother, the delinquent spare,
In thy divine affection ô too blest!
Whom Yester-night saw leaning on thy brest:
If Love in death survive, if yet as great;
Even by that Love thy pardon I intreat:
By this thy weeping Mother: I the Heire
By thee adopted to thy filiall care,
Though alike wretched, and as comfortlesse;
Yet, as I can, will comfort her distresse.
O Virgin-mother, favour thy Reliefe;
Though just, yet moderate thy flowing griefe:
Thy downe-cast Minde by thy owne Vertue raise.
Th'old Prophets fill their Volumes with thy praise:
No Age but shall through all the round of Earth
Sing of that heavenly Love, and sacred Birth.
What female glory parallels thy Worth!
So grew a Mother, such a Son brought forth!
She who prov'd fruitfull in th'extreame of age,
And found the truth of that despis'd presage:
She, whose sweet Babe, expos'd among the reeds
Which ancient Nilus with his moisture feeds,
Who then, a smiling Infant, overcame
The threatning floud; aspir'd not to thy fame.
But these expressions are for thee too low;
The op'ning Heavens did their observance show:
Those radiant Troopes, which Darknesse put to flight,
Thy Throws assisted in that festive Night:
Who over thy adored Infant hung
With golden wings, and Allelu-jah's sung:
While the Old Sky, to imitate that birth,
Bare a new Starre to amaze the wondring Earth.

MARY.
Sorrow is fled: Joy, a long banish'd Guest,
With heavenly rapture fill's my inlarged brest:
More great then that in youth, when from the Sky
An Angel brought that blessed Embassy;
When Shame, not soon instructed, blush'd for feare,
How I a Son by such a Fate should beare.
I greater things fore-see: my eyes behold
What ever is by Destiny inrold.
With troops of pious Soules, more great then they,
Thou to felicity shalt lead the way.
A holy People shall obey thy Throne;
And Heaven it selfe surrender thee thy own.
Subjected Death thy Triumph now attends,
While thou from thy demolish'd Tombe ascends.
Nor shalt thou long be seene by mortall eies,
But in perfection mount above the Skies;
Propitious ever, from that heighth shalt give
Peace to the World, instructed how to live.
A thousand Languages shall thee adore:
Thy Empire know no bounds. The farthest Shore
Washt by the Ocean, those who Dayes bright Flame
Scarce warmes, shall heare the thunder of thy Name.
Licentious sword, nor hostill Fury, shall
Prevaile against thee: thou, the Lord of all.
Those Tyrants, whom the vanquisht Worlds obay,
Before thy feete shall Cæsars Scepter lay.
The Time draws on, in which it selfe must end,
When thou shalt in a Throne of Clouds descend
To judge the Earth. In that reformed World,
Those by their sins infected, shall be hurl'd
Downe under one perpetuall Night; while they
Whom thou hast cleans'd, injoy perpetuall Day.