HIstory offers to our view, Myriads of holy Virgins in Beauty, and vertue equally attractive, whose due praise the Catholike Church doth at this day solemnely sing, but with a [Page 2]more elevated voyce (as duty on our part, and merit on hers commands) the laud of that most excellent Princesse, the Virgin Mother of God. There be who affirme that what ever the Creator saw beautifull in heaven, or earth, he bestowed in the limming of this rare Piece, not that she might be stiled the most faire amongst the daughters of women, but by a heavenly prerogative, the alone Faire, the alone Lovely. Looke how many parts,Her ex­ternall Beauty. so many arts you might discerne of the Celestiall Limmer. And this is no way re­pugnant to reason it selfe; for if Christ was faire above the sonnes of men,Galati­nus. should not she be so above their Daughters, since from her alone he received his flesh? Gre­gory Nazianzen proclaimes that she surpass'd all women in loveli­nesse. [Page 3] Andraeas sayes that she was a Statue carved by Gods own hand. Others of those first, and purer times not without admiration, ob­serve that God was almost fifty Ages in the meditation of the structure of this stately Pallace. And truely our beliefe may easily digest this, that his omnipotency would make her fit to be the Mo­ther of his Son, Empresse of this lower world, and the blessed Con­duit through which should passe the mystery of mans Redemption. Yet finde I a ridiculous descripti­on of her in Epiphanius a Priest of Constantinople, who affirmes that her Face was of the colour of Wheate, her visage long, and her nose sutable, her haire yellow, and her eye-browes blacke. But what authority he hath for this, neither I, nor I thinke he himselfe can [Page 4]well tell; for surely simple Anti­quity was not either curious, or skilfull to deliver it by tradition, or picture to posterity. I verily be­leeve he had it from his owne dreames, or rather fancy. Mopsa is as much beholding to our in­comparable, and inimitable Syd­ney for a delineation, as is my di­vine subject to this curious Imper­tinent. Whether, her beauty chiefly consisted in colour, in Symmetry of parts, or both I know not: sure I am the streame of other more judicious, pious Au­thors carries me not into an opini­on, but a strong beleefe of her heavenly forme. Cardinall Caje­tan, and Galatinus, (with what truth I cannot say) certainely with more probability then he, main­taine that her excellent tempera­ture, her conformity of members, [Page 5]her firme and constant Complexi­on free'd her from all contagion and diseases. And Dyonisius goes, further, affirming that she was no other then a walking Spring. Such variety of sweet odours her very pores breath'd out on all that came neare her; as we reade of A­lexanders living body, and the Ae­gyptian Carkasses which by a thin spare dyet observed in life, even after death sent forth a most sweet perfume. Sylvanus Razzius recounts a pleasing story of a cer­taine Clerke, who by many pray­ers implor'd, and obtain'd the blessing of her fight, but with this condition, that he should see her but with one eye, and that one he should lose. He willingly embrac't it, but when she appear'd drest in all her Beames, not being able with one eye to take a full view [Page 6]of her, he opened the other also, chusing rather to forfeit his sight for ever, then to loose one minute of the inconceiveable content he enjoyed in the sight of so glorious a spectacle. Were this true, it would make a brave example of a devout soule ravisht with the view of a divine object.

Her in­ternall Beauty.If the Inne was so splendent, so sumptuous, what may we thinke of the amiable guest, that lodg'd in it, her minde, beset with thoughts cleare, and radiant as her owne eyes? He that dares attempt the expression of these her internall gifts is ignorant of her sublimity; he who dares not, knows not her humanity, her sweetnesse. As no stile can ascend so high as her ex­alted worth, so on the other side none can descend so low as her [Page 7]Humility. Encourag'd therfore by her meeknesse, not my owne suf­ficiencie, I shall endeavour to limme her soule in little (since in great neither my time, nor ability will let me) which will appeare an enterprise as hardy, and vaine as his who should strive to limmit the light, or circumscribe the Ayre▪ Know then, modest Reader (and receive this knowledge with the same extasie, and zeale I write it) that her internall luster was farre greater then her externall, like in this unto the Tents of Kedar, as soone cover'd with dust, and al­most burned up with the heat of the Sunne, as soone beaten, and shaken with tempestuous weather, but in the meane time inwardly all glittering with glory, and magni­ficence. O ye Angels, to you it is onely given, not to sinne, but on [Page 8]her is conferr'd what you cannot merit, to beare, and the reparation of mans ruine. The Apostles, those holy Tapours of the primitive Church sometimes burnt dimme, and were obscur'd with the fogge of sinne, but her brightnesse no­thing vitious could lessen, much lesse utterly extinguish. She was, indeed, vertues prime, and great example, and all the accomplisht women of the Ages past, present, or to come have grace, and happi­nesse to the full in being called her imperfect Coppies.

Here my Invention treads a Maze, and my heart is divided be­tweene an earnest desire to praise her to the height, and a holy feare lest in that praise I should trench on Gods own peculiar Attributes. That she was no way inferiour to [Page 9]her Sonne, according to the flesh, I dare not with some avouch, who magnifie her in a phrase that vio­lates her modesty, and makes her blush at her owne exaltation. Her lowlinesse was such that it was nearer the rejecting of all com­mendations then entertaining a comparison betweene her selfe, and him to whom she had profes­sed her selfe an hand-maid. And no lesse is her shame, or rather, in­deed, her trembling when pennes prophanely prodigall ascribe that honour to her which is onely pro­per, and due to that Deity from which she received her grace, and being. I will not, with Lipsius a­scribe as much to her Milke, as to her Sonnes Bloud. Neither dare I side with those who averre that she is halfe of that sacrifice that ransom'd us, and Gods partner [Page 10]here. Nor is my penne so impious­ly valiant as to justifie that God made himselfe the patterne, and communicated to her by Gra [...] whatsoever hee had by Nature Nor am I of his bold opinion wh [...] sayes, If man had never sinned, y [...] Christ should have taken flesh t [...] honour her. These men woul [...] have her in all things equall▪ Christ himselfe. Neither her m [...] ­desty, nor mine will admit of th [...] blasphemous flatterie. I willing allow her to be the vessell, but n [...] the fountaine of Grace. I am muc [...] taken with his Tenent who hol [...] that God made all things for th [...] use of Man, because he would ap­ply furnish him with matter nough to busie his head, lest should bee so audacious as to e­quire into his secrets, & encroac [...] upon his prerogatives. We nee [...] [Page 11]not (thanks to his infinite goodnesse) bee so dange­rously venturous, since he affords us a large scope, and ground enough safely to extol this his Favourite, second to none that ever bore flesh, either in her owne desert, or his e­steeme.

To begin with her birth; it was miraculous,Her Birth. as it al­wayes falls out where Na­ture failes,That Ioacimus and Anna were her parents is an undoubted truth receiv'd by the Church, as wee find both in Baro­nius and Bishop Montacute in his Booke called Ap­paratus, &c. and God sup­plies, as he did here in Anna the blessed mother of this more blessed maid. And here by the way I must in­sert an observation derived from Gods sacred Word, that for the most part the children of sterility are [Page 12]fruitfull in sanctity, and all goo [...] works. Samson was the sonne [...] barrennesse, and kept the peop [...] in obedience. So was Isaac, an [...] gave precepts to the seed of Abra­ham. So was Samuel, and foretold the misery of servitude to the Iew­ish Synagogue. So was Ioseph, an [...] with his counsell govern'd all Ae­gypt. So was our hallow'd subjec [...] who brought forth the Sonnes glory. The slaves of the Tyri [...] rebelling against their Master and having subdu'd them by a g [...] ­nerall consent, decreed, that he amongst them who the next mo [...] ­ning could first discover the Sun­rising should be their King. O [...] of them of a more gentle dispo [...] ­tion then the rest, having hidde [...] his Master (by name Strato) fro [...] the others fury, secretly askt h [...] advise in this so important affaire [Page 13]who bade him look into the West; for there he should sooner discern the approach of the Sunne then they who sought him in the East. This wise counsell he obey'd, and while the rest fixed all their eyes on the East, he from the highest part of the City, by his Rayes in the West, first discover'd his as­cension in the East. So in Anna (the happy mother of this wonder of women) being then in the occi­dent, or set of life the prophetick world foresaw the brightnesse of the dazeling light she then teem'd with. At length the worlds greedy expectation was satisfied; and this Cynthia, this chast Starre was de­livered of a Plannet farre greater, and brighter then her selfe; of whose all gladding shine the first man participated, and the last shal. I may as properly as dolefully call [Page 14]them Plannets, since they neve [...] rested, but were in perpetuall mo­tion while in this lower orbe the [...] ran their fatall courses, in which they were often clowded, neve [...] quite eclipsed. The day of the Nativity of this most perfec [...] of Saints, I finde thus describe [...] by Nicolaus Vernulaeus a late Wri­ter, and a professor of eloquence The description I onely insert fo [...] the elegancy; for I must condem [...] it as guilty of Levity and Vanity and no way sutable to the Maje­sty, Gravity, and Modesty of thi [...] our sacred subject. The Sunne, sai [...] he, this day burnisht his face, the bet­ter to illustrate the world, and to ap­peare gracious in her sight, who carri­ed in her breast a fire purer, and clea­rer than his owne Rayes. The ear [...] put on her freshest greene, and the flowers spread their dainty leaves [Page 15]and made a sweet exchange of odours with her, yet hung their heads to see themselves both in colour, and sent so farre surpass'd. The trees advanc'd their curled heads, and compos'd their lookes within the Christ all streames, who seemed to dance after their owne mumur. Amongst the Beasts their King layd by his fiercenesse, and not one of his subiects was found savage, or polluted that day. Then was the Proverbe cross'd; for the Worme be­ing trod on, would not turne againe, lest she should prove unlike her mee­kest Mistresse. In the very bowels of the earth, the minerals and the stones more pretious, assumed their quicker sparkes, as Emblems of her splen­dour. The Ocean had not a wrinckle in his face, thousands of Halcions ho­ver'd o're his head, and his Tritons blew so lowd, that their notes sounded the very bottome of the Deep. Within [Page 16]his vast Dominions was no disco [...] that day; for the greater of the [...] forsooke their prey, and the smal [...] swumme in that security, that [...] Sprat bearded the Dolphin, and pl [...] with the nose of the overgrown Wh [...] The birds sung their choisest aires; t [...] ­fowles flew nearer the earth to sal [...] ­her, and their Towring Lord [...] Eagle brought his young ones to [...] their eyes at this new borne Lig [...] The ayre it selfe was like her, gen [...] and being invisible, came to steal [...] kisse from her cherry lips, soft a [...] smooth as were his owne. The win [...] (conceiving their silence would b [...] please) kept themselves within th [...] dens; onely Zephirus was let loose fanne the Pinke, and Violet, a [...] play the wanton with the Rose. Th [...] farre Vernulaeus. Of all things c [...] ­ated man alone, to whom, bei [...] sicke, she was to bring a soverai [...] [Page 17]Antidote was found least joyfull, least gratefull. Yet were there some, no doubt, of Gratitudes children, who lay prostrate before her, and did homage to their sweetest Lady, who might better be called the Mother of the li­ving, then Eve; since she, like a Murdresse, gave her children death ere birth; and defaced those Images whereon God had set his owne stampe. She was no wiser than a poor Fly, who, enamour'd of the beauty of the flame, longs to try if it be as sweet as faire, and is consumed with her owne folly. Had our blessed one supplied her roome in Paradice, the forbidden fruit had, perchance, beene yet un­tasted, and man uncursed; for she was altogether void of curiosity, proper to that weaker sexe, and [Page 18]the very bane of it. Our dearest Princesse therefore was deserved­ly a Queene ere borne, receiv'd a Crowne sooner than sight, an [...] found her Throne seated upon th [...] threshold of life. And wha [...] Crowne was she presented with▪ Not one to compose which the East, and the West joyned thei [...] treasures, but a Crowne in the making whereof every vertue, an [...] all the Graces had a hand. No [...] did any vaine mortall place it o [...] her sacred Temples, but Go [...] himselfe, who thought nothing too deare, nor omitted any or­nament that might embellish thi [...] goodly edifice wherein himself [...] meant to reside. Having thus a­dorn'd and honour'd her, h [...] plac'd her in this lower world fo [...] the good and admiration of all [Page 19]for the conversation of a few. Though borne on earth she lived here like a Native of Heaven.

Her in­fancy.As we may guesse at the neat­nesse of a house by the entry into it: so we may judge of her lifes re­mainder by the very beginning. Sabellicus affirmes that * she no sooner saw the light,Sabelli­cus sets downe how shee dispos'd of every particu­lar hour. but she a­dor'd the Creator of it, and lifted up her heart and eyes to the great Infuser of all her incomparable excellencies. She lov'd God ere she had seene man. The defect of her tongue could not hinder the operation of her soule, in which ere she could speake, she acknow­ledg'd his unspeakeable good­nesse. In her Religion preceded the use of reason, and she appre­hended Gods mercies long ere [Page 20]she was capable of his nature, and wisedome. Ere she could utter holy words, she made holy signs, by which she made knowne the sanctity of her heart. The first word she learn'd to lispe was Ieho­vah. She sent forth many a sigh for sinne, not having committed any, and bewailed that of which she was utterly ignorant. The rowling of the cradle put her in minde that she was newly enter'd into the tempest of this life, the infinite dangers whereof to escape she made Vertue her Pilot.

We will not here with some Writers of her Life, dispute whe­ther or no she had the same ordi­nary Education with other chil­dren; nor with them affirme that she entred the Temple at three [Page 21]yeares old, and lived close by the Altar, and was fed miraculously by an Angell; as also that it was there revealed to her that she should be deliver'd of the Messias. I will not make one steppe out of Gods own path, frō which I never yet saw the greatest wit to swerve, but it was in danger of sticking fast. Yet hath a pious charity often swallowed more than all this. If from the hand of an Angell she there received food naturall, or su­pernaturall, sure I am the wonder is not so great as that of the Incar­nation, where the wombe inclu­ded the Word. And why should we with difficulty beleeve that this white spotlesse soule was illu­minated with Revelations by the divine object of her chaste vowes? who undoubtedly deserved to be [Page 22]rapt up if it were possible, a story higher than was Saint Paul. It is likely enough, saith Mantuan, God would have the Temple of his Spirit to dwell in the Temple of his service. The same Author af­firmes that she there liv'd a pretty Nun, and Spunne, and wove the sacred Vestments till her eleventh or twelfth yeare, when her pru­dency, and shame, and the care of her Reputation, forbade her to ac­company even the very Priests themselves, men whom God had selected out of the Masse of the vulgar to teach his Will, to in­struct his people, and to sing his praise. These curiosities, and bold conjectures let us rather beleeve then contest with the broachers; for it is wisedome to grant what we cannot confute. Let us then [Page 23]imagine that this holy Recluse confined her body to this sacred solitude, and a spare diet, and wa­rily kept her soule from the sur­fets to which carnall delights in­vite all things humane. And it is consonant both to reason and truth, that her exercise there, was pious like the place. They who goe about to take away her wri­ting, and reading tongue are im­piously ridiculous, since it evident­ly appeares that she was well read in the Scriptures by her divine Hymne uttered in Zacharies house.Anci­ent and eminent Authors affirme her to have beene learned in the Hebrew tongue, all which you shall finde quoted in Cedrenus. On her reading attended Medi­tation, on her Meditation Prayer, or her Prayer Action, as the loue­ly fruit of the precedent. Thus [Page 24]busied, the day left her, the night found her. Her sleeping cogitati­ons we may suppose were sutable to her waking, and her very 1 dreames divine. She had not a thought that was her owne, all be­long'd to God. She was slow to speake, saith Sabellicus, but ready to obey all holy advice. He [...] tongue was not so swift as he [...] Wit, which made it follow fo [...] direction in all the requisites [...] speech. In a word, she might wel [...] usurpe that of the Church, When [...] was a little one, I was pleasing to th [...] most high. When upon matur [...] deliberation she left the Temple she still liv'd as if she had been [...] in it. Though in body she was so­ciable, she fetter'd her soule fro [...] wandring abroad, her true con­versation being in heaven. Thi [...] [Page 25]flourishing Vine planted her selfe amongst the Olives. She was more choice of her company then of her food, or rayment, both which, God knows, were course enough. She knew temperancy to be Gods, and Natures Favorite, in that it conduceth to the service of the former, and the preservation of the later. She therefore made this heavenly vertue judge of her Ap­petite, lest it should long after ex­cesse, the mother of all unclean­nesse. Her soule gave laws to her body, which it could not infringe without the injunction of a strict pennance. She devour'd Gluttony it selfe, and made the flesh subject to the command of the spirit. Her fare, saith Cedrenus, required no vessell, nor need she to wash her hands after her greatest meale. Her [Page 26]dyet defide the fire, as of no use. From the Earths face, the Cows dugge, and the Fountains brimme, she readily fetched her sustinance. She was as ignorant of the Persian luxury, as the superstition. To this her cloathing was correspondent, for which her backe was behold­ing to her fingers. Her hands were the purveyours to her other mem­bers. She had one eye fixed on heaven, and the other cast upon the earth, being intentive on the Glories of the one, and the Neces­sities of the other, and at once act­ed Martha, and Magdalene. It is ve­ry credible that she sowed, and spunne, and maintain'd life with labour. Hee who gives life to all things, suffer'd his then adopted, and since naturall mother, to gaine her living with sweat, and care, [Page 27]that her example might give pride the checke, and teach Majesty Hu­mility. In her he made manifest that mortall felicity is not the pa­rent of the immortall. She was not solicitous for the feather, the look­ing-glasse, or any outward brave­ry, being onely carefull to cover her shame, and at once to expell two deadly enemies to her soule, and body, pride, and cold. Her out­ward simplicitie was in all things answerable to her inward.

Her be­trothing.Well, now she began to write woman, and her fifteenth yeare approached, and hand in hand with the increase of time went the acquisition of all Graces. Her least perfection would render another most accomplisht. In her all ver­tues were at strife, all overcame. [Page 28]Nothing was here meane, she be­ing no other then an union of s [...] ­perlatives. Charity, obedience, p [...] ­etie, virginity, all were in her [...] height. Nothing in her was wa [...] ­ing but the Deity it selfe. Yet w [...] not her vaine-glory such, that s [...] desired with Dina to visit th [...] daughters of other Regions, an [...] to enlarge the renowne of thes [...] her Excellencies, being onely st [...] ­dious in the government of h [...] owne little, inward commo [...] wealth. Her fixed resolution wa [...] not onely to confine her perso [...] but her fame, which (had it pen [...] trated forreigne Countries) King would have come suppliants [...] her cottage, and on their kne [...] have petition'd for her love. B [...] the bonds of her Matrimony we [...] already askt in heaven, and no im­pediment [Page 29]found why she might not wedde God himselfe. Yet at the earnest solicitation of the reve­rend Priests, saith Mantuan, was she content to be betroth'd to Io­seph; not that he should do the of­fice of an husband, but serve as a barre to the importunity of other Sutour, that so she might the more freely enjoy the inconceiveable pleasure she tooke in her vowed virginity.

The sa­lutation.But now the time is come when she must be (to the astonishment of the world) a Mother, and yet remaine a Virgin. The marriage betweene God, and Nature is con­cluded on in heaven, and Gabriel the Ambassador concerning mans Redemption prepares himself for his journey decreed from all eter­nity. He receives instructions from the hands of Gods owne transcen­dent Mercy; and therefore, no doubt, but they are gentle, and pleasing. Clad in white, (as an Emblem of his innocencie) he sets forth without any other guard then his owne right Arme able to destroy Legions. The Chaldaeans carried in their Ensignes a towring Flame, the Babilonians a Dove, the Scythians Lightning, the Per­sians [Page 32]a Bow, and Arrows, the Ro­mans an Eagle. And this extraor­dinarie Ambassadour of peace, (being to descend from the higher to the lower world, from the Cre­atour to the creature, an Angell to men) beares along with him in his very name the signe of his Power, and Fortitude that sends him. The gates, saith Vernulaeus, of the cele­stiall pallace stand wide open, and the sacred Trinity gladly beholds the departure of this divine Mes­senger. The Angels clap their wings, and make the heavenly roofe ring with Haleluiahs. The Saints attend, and send their vows after him, that his presence may be without terrour, and his swee [...] delivery win consent in the hea [...] of their glorious Empresse. The vaste space betweene the Poles is [Page 33]filled with troopes of holy spirits, who give a convoy to this their fellow-servant graced above the rest, in having so important an af­faire as the worlds salvation com­mitted to his charge. The Starres put on new, and brighter aspects, as seeming to foretell what they foresee not. The Earth bedeckt with all imaginable ornaments presents him with variety of sents, and colours even to her selfe new, and layes her prime dainties under his feet. Onely her stupid Inhabi­tants, whom his Embassie most concern'd, were altogether unsen­sible of his arrivall, and of the eter­nall benefit he brings them, recei­ving him rather like an Herald then an Ambassadour. And (which encreased his wonder at his enter­tainment) his first approach was [Page 34]unwelcome to the Saint whose Votary he was. He found her (as some thinke) alone, separated as well in body as minde from the world. She was not ignorant that piety was nearer pollution in soci­ety than solitude, and therefore to shun infection, she avoyded com­pany. She well knew that the ho­ly Ghost himselfe had dwelt with the Prophets and Apostles in Caves, Dens, and Dungeons, and there pen'd the all-saving Writ▪ That which we call good fellow ship, and sweet conversation he [...] conscience assured her to be a [...] best but a sociable folly. In neigh­bourhood she feared proximity in vice. Well, if alone he foun [...] her, questionlesse she made a di­vine use of that privacy, and medi­tated how in a corrupible body [Page 35]to preserve a spirit incorruptible. The celestiall agent having de­manded, and obtained audience, spake the oration he made not; for he was but Interpreter of the ho­ly Spirit, in which office he justly gloried. The speech assuredly was modest, and sutable to the sacred cares it was to enter. The begin­ning of it, no doubt, consisted of a reverent applause of the perfecti­ons God had imparted to her. Haile Mary, said he, full of Grace, the Lord be with thee: blessed art thou amongst women, &c. How she tooke this the Text following declares. And when she saw him shee was trou­bled at his saying, and thought what manner of salutation that should be. No doubt the Angell no sooner pronounc't, Haile Mary full of Grace, but a blush arose in her [Page 36]bashfull face, and verified his words. But this colour was not fixed, it went quickly back to for­tifie her noble heart against the feare that invaded it. She saw her selfe alone with one altogether a stranger to her, whose face she neither knew, nor his intent. True it is, his language was smooth, and even, but as faire words as these, have often proceeded from a foule heart. She trembled at his saluta­tion, thinking him to be aThat the An­gell ap­peared to her in the form or shape of a man is the o­pinion of S. Hie­rome. in Epist. ad Eustoch. de cust. Virgin. and of S. Ambrose, lib. 1. offic. cap. 18. An [...] that which Damascen hath, lib. 2. de fide orthod All the learned approve of; to wit, that the Angel are transform'd, and appear to men according to th [...] pleasure of the Lord, and reveale his divine Myste­ries. And that Angels appear'd in the old Testame [...] in the shape of men is certaine: and for many reaso [...] it is very probable that Gabriel assumed the form [...] a man when he came to the blessed Virgin. Chryso logus serm. 140, is of opinion that the Angel appear▪ in a shape, and habit most pleasing and gentle, and that the Virgin was not troubled at his person, but his speech, in that it is said shee marvelled what say­ings those should be. mat [Page 37]subject to abhorred Lust, and therefore feared violence: but when she once knew him, and his Embassy, she then undaunted, discours'd with him as an Angell, whom before she quak't at as a man. I conjure all modest soules that shall peruse this passage by all things deare to them, to dwell long upon it, as worthily deser­ving both their admiration, and imitation. Though she received from him extreme and heavenly praises, yet she was afraid, because she was alone. O Saviour of the World! Purity feares an Angell, shall not Impurity then suspect a [Page 38]man though in the shape of an Angell when his complement, and discourse are sensuall. Virginity cannot bee too heedfull, which makes it practise the doubt of things safe, that so it may accu­stome it selfe to the feare of things dangerous. If heathen wo­men have by nature so abhorred pollution, that they have chosen death before it, how odious must we judge it to the Angellicall in­nocency of Gods owne Mother? Well, what course tooke she? She rejected these his commenda­tions not with her tongue, but her lookes, which put on a dislike of all he had said. She had heard that when Castles come to a parley, it is a signe of yeelding, and there­fore thought it her safest way to involve her selfe within humility, [Page 39]and a sober silence. But the An­gell quickly delivered her our of this Agony into a greater; out of this feare into a more tormen­ting care. Feare not MARY, saith he, for thou hast found favour with God; for loe thou shalt conceive in thy wombe, and beare a Sonne, and shalt call his name IESUS. He shall be great, and shall be called the Sonne of the most high, and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of his father David. And he shall raigne over the house of Iacob for ever; and of his Kingdome shall be no end. To this her answer was, How shall that be, since I know no man? It is true, it is true, most blessed Virgin, thou knowest no man; but let thy mo­desty rest secure; for the operati­on of God, and not of man is here required. God should never be­conceived [Page 40]in thee, wert thou not a Virgin, nor borne of thee shoul­dest thou not remaine such. Thou canst not be spotted with the con­ception, or birth of an issue so im­maculate. This feare is as need­lesse as that of defiling thy fairest fingers with the purest fountaine. If Obededon having received the Arke within his walles, was so en­riched with all manner of Trea­sure, that Felicity was voyced to have descended from heaven into his house; what shall we judge of thy supreme blisse, O glorious Virgin! who art not to be the re­ceptacle of a wooden Arke, but of his only Sonne? With confidence therefore consent to thy owne happinesse, and the Redemption of all Humanity.

But, indeed, I do not wonder at her astonishment, when I consider her bashfulnesse. Mee thinks I see her now casting her eyes up to heaven, now fixing them on the earth, and now againe on the Am­bassadour himselfe, resolving to give up her soule rather then her virginity. Harsh must the word (conception) needs found to her who was a votary nere to know man, whose onely love was prayer, whose onely childe was piety. But when the Angell urged Gods will, she forthwith yeelded a handmaid to her Lords desire. Let us inten­tively listen to the text. And the Angel answer'd, and said unto her, The holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the highest shall over­shadow thee; therefore also that holy thing that shall be borne of thee shall [Page 42]be called the Sonne of God. And behol [...] thy cousen Elizabeth, shee hath als [...] conceived a sonne in her old age, an [...] this is the sixt moneth with her wh [...] was called barren. For with God no­thing shall bee impossible. And Mary said, Behold the handmaid of the Lord, bee it to mee according to th [...] word. See here united an incompa­rable humility, and an obedience even unto death. For the consent­ing to be the mother of God wa [...] not easie to her, in that a meek, an [...] humble spirit with greater difficul­tie ascends the highest steppe o [...] Honours Throne, then a proud de­scends thence to the bottome, [...] being a thing in nature farre harde to climbe then to come downe. [...] any man shall yet rest unsatisfie [...] and shall make a further enqui [...] after this difficulty, he may pleas [...] [Page 43]to consider that her humility bal­lanc't her Sonnes exalted, and her owne dejected estate; and as well meditated the care, the diligency, the reverence, and obsequiousnes, as the dignity, and excellency of her whom God would vouchsafe the most glorious title of Mother. She wisely weighed that the An­gels were not worthy to wait on him, and therefore the service of her whole life must as farre ex­ceed, as the name of Gods Mother did excell that of Servant, or An­gell. If Saint Peter, yet in the dawn of Grace, could so clearly discerne his Masters greatnesse, as that he cryed out, Depart from me a sinner, as deeming himselfe unworthy of his presence: If the Centurion for the same respect thought his house too base to receive him, what [Page 44]should she thinke who was not to take him into her ship, or her lodg­ing, but into her wombe, where he was to remaine not a visitant, but a dweller? Full well also she under­stood that her consent was not onely required to be the parent of the Almighty, but the Spouse also of his holy Spirit, to whose inspi­rations she ought a greater obedi­ence then others, having received from the same spirit a greater mea­sure of grace, and honour. She clearly foresaw that she was not onely chosen to conceive the Son of God,Many ancient Writers hold that she had the gift of pro­phecie. to bring forth, to nurse, and governe him, but also perforce to yeeld him up (such being the divine pleasure) to a three and thirty yeares persecution, and last­ly to the cursed death of the crosse, the salvation of others de­pending [Page 45]on his destruction. And that she did foresee all this, plainly appeares by the speech of the An­gell to her, who (after he had foretold the conception, and birth of Christ) added, And he shall be called Iesus, that is, a Saviour. An awfull reverence, and an incon­ceiveable joy divided, without doubt, her all-holy heart when she contemplated her future being a mother to the Messias. Can a man imagine any thing more difficult, more bitter for humane nature to overcome? Yet did her active ver­tue vanquish all these impedi­ments, and with an humble, ravisht soule she expected the entrance of him into her sacred wombe, whom already she had surely seated in her heart.

Here before we proceed to her conception, we must observe two things not amply, and fully e­nough express'd, very remarkable in the Angelicall salutation; First, the dignity of the Ambassadour, next the worth of her to whom his Embassy was directed, toge­ther with her many vertues equal­ly eminent in this divine Dia­logue.

Concerning the first; he was not a man, but an Angell; neither an Angell of an inferiour order, but of the supreme Hierarchy, which choise and pure spirits having re­ceived infinite ornaments and gra­ces from their Lord and Master, retained still his favour,Hom. 34 in lect. Evang. and ever stood before him. S. Gregory stiles him a principall Angell, treating [Page 47]of principall things. Some have not feared to call him the supreme Angell, as Damascen, and others.Serm. de Ʋirginis assump. Truth will answer for him, that a­mongst all the celestiall spirits, none are so predicated in holy Writ as he, and Michael, to whom the Declaration, and Exposition of so high Mysteries so often were committed, as in Daniel, Zachary, and Mary is specified. Some will have his name to signifie God, and man, and that this Etymology containes a miraculous mystery. Amongst these is Proculus Arch-Bishop of Constantinople. Geber, saith he, signifies man; El God, In 1 cap. Luc. allu­ding to his Embassy, which treated of his approaching birth, who was both God and man. Saint Bernard judg­eth the servant of Abraham to have beene a type of Gabriel; In par­vis. serm. Gen. 24. for he was [Page 48]sent by his Master not to seek an [...] Virgin that came next to hand but such a one as the Lord Go [...] had prepared for the Sonne of hi [...] Lord.Hom. de incom­prehensi­bili Dei natura. This Gabriel, saith Sai [...] Chrysostome, the Painters presen [...] to us winged; not that God create: him so, but to denote the sublimmity and agillity of the celestiall Nature, as also to admonish us that with grate­full hearts wee acknowledge him [...] have for our cause descended from [...] highest habitation. And sweeth Chrysologus; An Angell treated wi [...] Mary concerning our salvation, be­cause an Angell had dealt with E [...] touching our damnation. Serm. 142. Serm. 1. de nat. Virgin. This bles­sed Spirit, and Saint Iohn the E­vangelist, Damianus compares to two Lyons which carefully guar [...] this our sacred subject. I will n [...] here seeeke to satisfie the over­curious, [Page 49]and needlesse doubts of Luther, and others, whether she knew Gabriel to be an Angell, or no, nor whether or no he entred her chamber the doore being shut, nor whether he appear'd to her in a gentle familiar shape, or in his full splendour, as when he so much amaz'd Zachary, and strucke him dumbe. These questions serve ra­ther to busie curiositie, then en­flame zeale. Neither hath all that tender sexe (to whose good I de­dicate this discourse) received an education that renders them cape­able Iudges of such disputes. And I freely acknowledge that in this Treatise I have not so much as u­sed any one word not frequent, and familiar, because I would make the sense cleare to the Femal Readers. Withall I professe my [Page 50]scope is not to sharpen their wits, but to beautifie their lives, and to kindle in their faire bosomes an holy ambition to aspire to the per­fections of that devout life, which this our incomparable Lady led, and ended with the applause of men, and Angels.

Laying aside therefore these su­perfluous arguments, I will pro­ceed (as my method commands me) to deliver her inestimable worth, and sober demeanour to­wards the Angell, which no elo­quence can so well expresse as [...] silent, and reverent admiration. Much I need not say of her of whom I never can speake enough, especially having already pro­duc'd so many ancient, and learned extollers of her excellencies, to [Page 51]which my vote would adde no more then a dimme lampe to the glorious eye of heaven, or an ob­scure gloworme to a starry night. Yet since at the Altar of this meek one (sweet and chast as the Incense there daily burned) a single graine sent from a simple heart is accep­table, I will not feare to pay her a due oblation, though it come as short of her value, as I of her good­nesse. May it please thee then, pi­ous Reader, gratefully, with me to acknowledge that this is she who gave flesh to him by whom all flesh is sav'd. This was the Dove that first brought to us the Olive of our peace. This is the Rainbow, or first signe of our reconciliation to the divine Majesty. And (to shut up all in a little) this was the Ta­bernacle, and Throne of the Al­mighty, [Page 52]whence (his Majesty ob­scured) his love shined forth to all humanity. But in that a plaine de­livery of her vertues adorne her more then can all the flowers of Rhetoricke; I will (though in an inelligant phrase) set such downe as shall appeare most eminent in this unparalell'd colloquy, where­in were handled the profound my­steries of the sacred Trinity, as of the Fathers omnipotency, the holy Ghosts efficacy, the Sonnes excel­lency, and in him the proprietie of both natures.

Her pru­dency.Her Prudency shall take the first▪ place, not as the greatest, but as the most diffusive, because cleane through this Dialogue it blends with all the rest. First, she awfully, and advisedly gives him full audi­ence, [Page 53]and at once both ob­serves the laws of patience, and the custome of good manners in quietly attend­ing the period of his saluta­tion. Many of her Sexe would have so cut him off at every word, that hee should never have peec't his speech together againe. Being more mistresses of their tongues then their eares;The common sort when the Moone was eclipsed thought her to be enchanted, and with basons and other things made a hideous noyse to barre her from hearing the char­mers voyce. they would never have given him hearing till they had beene weary of talking. One of these, Iuve­nal makes mention of in his 6. Satyre, who made a din able to free the Moon from the power of the enchanter

This vertue of an op­portune silence few women [Page 54]obtain, if they do, it comes to them the last of all other. Their tongues are clocks which, once wound up, few of them go lesse then sixteene houres. But this wisest of Saints in a seasonable silence, and caution of speech, was alike admirable: Inso­much that through the whole Bible we finde not that she spake above five times.Her op­portune silence and cau­tion of speech. Twice to the An­gell Gabriel, as How shall this be? and againe, Behold the Hand-maid of the Lord. Next in the encounter betweene her, and her cousen Eli­zabeth. A fourth time to her belo­ved Sonne after long absence, Why have you dealt so with us. Lastly, when she becomes a petitioner for the poore, Because they have no wine Here in this place she inten­tively hearkens to the Angell, whom she heares twice ere she re­plyes [Page 55]once. She made two pawses usher her answer, which she fram'd with such care, and sobriety, as if Modesty had seal'd up her bo­some, and lippes, and that without her speciall warrant they were not to be opened. And though her thoughts were perplex'd and trou­bled, yet she apparrell'd them in such a cleare, smooth calme of lan­guage, that it would have genti­liz'd Barbarisme it selfe. When her Chastitie is call'd in question (which she esteemes above health, liberty, or life it selfe) she positive­ly denies nothing in that strange, and to her impossible assertion of the Angell, but answers with an humble enquirie, How shall that be? Well might she make this demand, since she knew by humane power it could not be effected, and the [Page 56]Angell had not yet revealed, that such was the divine will. Though never soule endured a greater con­flict then hers, and that Feare had stretched the strings of her heart to their utmost extension, yet chose she rather that they should breake in sunder, than she into In­temperancy. Some women (though chast, yet curst, and ha­sty) having once heard their cha­stity brought in question, would have omitted all interrogations, and have given the Angell a Ser­mon for his salutation, and have reviled his name, if not offered vi­olence to his person. But in this sweetest of creatures, mildenesse and modesty kissed each other; so that nothing could flow from her that was not pleasing and gentle. Yet could not her amazed lookes [Page 57]conceale her feare, which afflicts farre more than griefe; for we grieve onely for what is past, but we feare all that can happen. The mercifull Angell reading in her forehead the perplexity of her minde, resolved presently to ridde her of the tormenting doubt she was in, and to banish Feare out of that Face reserved only for Beau­ty, and the Graces to dwell in. He therefore hides this great secret no longer from her, but expounds to her the manner and meanes of her conception, which no sooner entred her eares, then consent her heart; and with a prostrate soule she made her will conform it selfe to Gods; Behold, saith she, the hand­maid of the Lord, &c. In this con­sent of hers we may discover al­most as many perfections as [Page 58]words. Some draw hence an ob­servation, that the salvation of mankinde depended upon her consent, and consequently the damnation upon her refusall. My meditation dares not climbe so high, not being able to conceive how possibly the searcher of hearts should receive a repulse from his chosen one, nor how his omnipotency can be confined to one onely meanes in the Redemp­tion of mankinde. It shall suffice me to derive hence three of the greatest Christian Vertues, her Faith, her Obedience, her Humi­lity.

Her Faith.Faith is the hand whereby we lay hold on Christ, and his Me­rits, without which, saith S. Austin, all morall vertues whatsoever are [Page 59]no better than gorgious sins. The dignity and necessity of this super­naturall gift cannot but evidently appeare to the meanest understan­ding, in that no man is ignorant that without Christ we cannot be sav'd, and without Faith we can­not apprehend Christ, nor apply his deserts, and passion to our pol­luted soules. In this which excells all other perfections did this hap­py Mother of our Emanuell sur­passe all other creatures, as here in briefe, and hereafter more at large I shall demonstrate. S. Au­stin both in knowledge and autho­rity infinitely exceeds me,Lib. de sanct. Ʋirg. cap. 3. and therfore I desire you would heare him for me. Strengthened by a sin­gular Faith, saith he, she made Gods Sonne hers, more happy truely in con­ceiving Christ in her minde, then his [Page 60]flesh in her wombe. Endued with this faith she fear'd, and reverenc'd him whom she bore, whom as soone as she brought forth she ador'd, and was the first beholder of the glory of his resur­rection. Would I muster up my forces I could produce many o­ther Champions of the same worth and antiquity, that with an indefatigable zeale, doe vindicate the faith of this blessed Virgin a­gainst some of these latter ages, who accuse her as defective in that wherin she was most accomplisht. Their objections have beene long since answer'd by Saint Austin, Saint Ambrose, and divers others of those Primitive times. Saint Au­stin distinguisheth thus betweene Zacharies demand and hers.Lib. 16. de civit. cap. 24. Za­chary when he sayes, Whence shall I know this? or, By what meanes shall I [Page 61]know this, I, and my wife being so a­ged? he spoke this out of despaire, not [...]y the way of inquisition. But Mary when she askes; How shall that be, since I know no man? shee utter'd this enquiring, not despairing. Where­fore to Zachary it is said, thou shalt be dumbe because thou believest not; but to her the cause is expounded, because while she doth question, she doubteth not of the promise. And to the same purpose, and almost in the same words speakes Saint Ambrose, whose testimony I o­mit, lest I should prove tedious, and obscure to the tender sexe, to whose profit this weake Essay of mine is chiefly intended. Yet my zeale to her whose true admirer I am, compels me briefly to deface all those aspertions, which the adversaries to her, and piety have [Page 62]layd upon her. And I am wholly transform'd into wonder as oft as [...] consider how malice, and he [...] spawne can bee so frontlesse as grossely to deprave the meaning of the Text onely to detract from her, and should be so audacious as to contradict the holy Ghost him­selfe, who by the mouth of Eliza­beth pronounceth her blessed, be­cause she beleeved. True it is, their expositions give a light to the Scriptures, but it is such a one as we receive from lightning, which brings with it rather terrour then comfort.

Her obe­dience.Here her obedience calls upon me to cut off, I cannot say, this di­gression, but vindication of her ho­nour. Though she deserved sove­rainty, and command, yet delight­ed [Page 63]she in nothing more then in this submissive vertue proper onely to a Subject, and was a diligent pra­ctitioner of it through her whole life in imitation of him who was obedient even to an ignomini­ous death. Her faith, and obedi­ence were of equall speed; for she no sooner heard the Angell relate that the Almighty had ordained she should beare the worlds Re­deemer, but she beleev'd, and con­sented that it should be so. She had learnt in her infancy, that obedi­ence with God is better then sacri­fice, and therefore she was as swift as thought in agreeing to the di­vine ordinance, that so posteritie might distinguish betweene her o­bedience, and that of others whose Wils, and Vnderstandings have a combat before they can bee [Page 64]brought to a consent. But this was onely a lovely branch of that beau­tifull tree, her humility, on which a perpetual Autumne attended; for it continually bore fruit.

Her hu­mility.Of this Vertue I must treat more at large then of the rest, because it is extensive cleane through all the actions of her life. Of this there are many sorts, whose severall coun­tenances, and shapes we will here draw to the life, lest the Reader be impos'd upon, and verily beleeve he enioyes the true one, when, in­deed, he is onely possessour of the adulterate.

natural humilityWe will begin with the Naturall Humility, which is to be found in many, who being basely borne, and bred, and poorely spirited, aspire [Page 65]not to greatnesse, but rest fully contented with that sordid calling Fortune hath allotted them. This Humility is none of those that ver­tue doth warrant. There is another kinde which we may call sensuall,Sensuall humility and this makes men refuse ho­nours, not that they do not desire them, but for the trouble, care, and danger that attend [...] them. This Humility is base, and degenerate. There is a third proud one of the Hypocrite,Hypo­criticall humility who though he be am­bitious of dignities, and seeks them by all cunning, and undermining wayes, yet (to be reputed humble) he seemes to flie them. This Hu­mility is false, and fained. A fourth there is philosophicall,Philoso­phicall humility and morall, and this consists in the knowledge of a mans selfe, and his miserable condition, so that by a naturall [Page 66]light he can see to humble him­selfe, and be serviceable to all men, yet no further then the digni­tie of his estate allows, and humane reason requires. So that in this mans opinion it should not be hu­mility, but basenesse in a Gentle­man to pardon an injury done him, or to place himselfe in an Hospitall as a servant to attend the sicke, and needy. This Humility will not en­dure the Christian Test. A fifth Mosaicall,Mosai­call, or Iudai­call Hu­mility. or Iudaicall, offers it selfe to our consideration; and this hath a neare resemblance of the true one; for by the perusall of the written Law we come to know our selves more perfectly then all the Philosophers of the world can teach us. To this purpose Saint Paul saith; From the Law comes the knowledge of sinne: and in another [Page 67]place, I had not knowne concupiscence to bee a sinne had not the Law said, Thou shalt not covet. In this Mirrour we discerne our originall corrupti­on, and all our disordinate passions, and affections, together with our ignorance, and frailty. By this Touchstone we finde all our mo­ral philosophical vertues to be but counterfeit. But this carries with it a very detrimentall discommodi­tie; for it leads us beyond hope of salvation, and there leaves us. For when a man shall consider that an unattainable perfection, and an ex­act observance of the Law is re­quired at his hands (wherein he is commanded to honour God with all his soul, and with all his might, and to love his neighbour as him­selfe) and yet withall shall disco­ver in himselfe an utter disabilitie [Page 68]to execute these holy commands, a frozen dijection wil so benumme all his thoughts that not one of them will be of force to uphold it selfe from sinking into the bot­tomlesse pit of despaire.

But with the true Christian Hu­militie it is otherwise which (ha­ving first made a submissive ac­knowledgement of its owne ingra­titude,The true Christi­an Hu­mility. pride, avarice, injustice, im­pietie, and infinite other imperfe­ctions) by a strong apprehension layes hold on the mercie of God in Christ. And this goodnesse of God towards us makes our sinnes more odious even in our own eies; no otherwise then the tender kind­nesse of his Father made the pro­digall childe more clearly see his owne errour, and disobedience. For [Page 69]this makes that speech of God to the Iewes, When you come into the Land of promise, then you shall know your sinnes? as if he should have said, How often have you distrusted me, and not onely murmur'd against me, but abandon'd me, and ador'd Idols, making them your guides, and attributing to them the benefits you have received from me? so the re­generated Christian being once entred into the spirituall King­dome of Christ, sees more cleare­ly his sinnes, then he did before his calling, as having received a greater Light. The excellency of this vertue in a Christian is be­yond humane expression. Not a­misse a learned Father of the Church stiles this the Treasurer of all other vertues.Hieron. in Epist. ad Ce­lant. The antient Christians commonly usurpe Hu­mility [Page 70]for vertue it selfe. Christ cals it poorenesse of Spirit, and discoursing of mans Beatitude, sets it in the Front. This and Pride are at endlesse oddes; for this is sociable, and loves com­pany, wheras pride affects solitude, and is for the most part alone. In the Empire of Pride, two can­not stand quietly together, where­as in the dominions of Humility, an infinite number may be placed without either combat, or strife. Pride is never void of feare, and doubt, whereas this stands secure with Ionas in the bottome of the Sea. Pride is ever ambitous of the first seate, this of the lowest, and therefore is as much extoll'd by all men, as the other cride downe. Pride assumes all to it selfe, and is full of selfe-love. This refuseth [Page 71]even its owne due, and underva­lues it selfe, as knowing that it can justly call nothing its owne, but sinne. Pride stormes at an injury receiv'd; this embraceth all occa­sions that may exercise its pati­ence. Pride (like all things puft up, and light) is wavering, and blown here and there by every gust of Fortune; this in stability is a rock, not in hardnesse, being soft, and white as the Downe of Swans. Yet though this Vertue be of all other the most innocent, and sub­missive, it is withall the most po­werfull; for, as nature, so God ab­hors vacuity, and therefore (fin­ding the humble utterly empty of affectation, presumption, and what else is derogatory to his ho­nour) hee fils him with his grace and spirit. What should I [Page 72]say more? Humility is fearelesse in danger, free in bondage, rich in poverty, quiet in persecution, no­ble, and gloriorious in ignominy, lofty in lownesse, joyfull in an­guish, and happy in the midst of misery. This made Moses speech­lesse, Abraham to acknowledge himselfe dust and ashes, Iohn the Baptist to esteeme himselfe a meer Voyce, and Saint Paul to account himselfe the greatest of all sinners. This Iewell was so faire in Christs eye, that to purchase it, he under­went not only poverty, misery, and all indignities, but even execrati­on, and malediction. What would we judge of a great Prince, who, in stead of enlarging his Territo­ries, should abase himselfe so farre as to become a poore subject? Why this did Christ, who (being [Page 73]of all things the greatest, and best from all eternity) by humility be­came of all the lowest, and de­scended even to the profession of service to the meanest of his crea­tures. It is also an evident marke of his humility, that he chose to be borne of simple and obscure Parents, whereas he might, if he would, have allyed himselfe to the greatest Princes. This gave oc­casion to the Iewes to mocke him, saying, Is not Ioseph his Father, and Mary his Mother? True it is that he was of the House of Da­vid, but when he was borne, it was in its declination, and of no repute. As the Moone fourteene dayes together, to our sight, en­creaseth, and fourteene againe di­minisheth, till at length it be seene no more: so in the fourteene gene­rations [Page 74]from Abraham to David, the House of David received ad­vancement in honour, and splen­dour, and was in his time at the full height; but in the fourteene following generations it was in the wane, and in the dayes of Christ neere utter extinction. And whereas he might have inserted Sarah, Rebecca, and many other Saints in his Genealogy, he placed Tamar, Raab, Ruth, Bersabe, and o­thers of an incestuous race, to shew the world, that, though he hated sinne, he abhorred not sinners. What man is there who, having a lascivious wife detected of whore­dome will take her againe? Yet Christ, having espoused the adul­terate soule of man, receives her into grace and favour after she hath committed millions of adul­teries. [Page 75]To this effect saith the Pro­phet, Though thou hast committed fornication with many Lovers, yet re­turne, and I will receive thee. Who is there that being injur'd will not onely forgive the Offendor, but seeke his friendship, I, and lay downe his life for him? All this did Christ, who (being grievously and hainously abused by man) not onely demanded his pardon, as if he himselfe had beene faulty, but made an oblation of his owne heart-bloud to quench the wrath of God justly conceived against him. Another admirable act of his humility was, that (God ha­ving given him all power in hea­ven and earth, in so much that he could at his pleasure have destroy­ed Iudas, whose treason he fore­knew) all the revenge he tooke, [Page 76]was to wash his feet, and to call him Friend when he came to ap­prehend him. To these I may adde his living in obscurity from his twelfth to his thirtieth yeere, in all which time we reade not any thing of him. I will conclude with all the crosses and calamities he endur'd, of which in his life he ne­ver reaped any fruit, and at his death had his Innocency onely predicated by one, and that one a Thiefe. In a word, during his a­bode here below (whether you consider his Doctrine, Actions, or Passion) he was not so much de­lighted with the exercise of any vertue, as of this gentle, meek one, that so he might imprint it as his owne sacred stampe, or marke in those mindes which he would have known to be his. And, above [Page 77]the rest, into the chast bosome of his dearest Mother did he send this divine gift, before his birth by in­fusion, and afterwards engrafted it there by example.Her hu­mility. And this we may well perceive by her so close­ly following the patterne that she precedes all but himselfe in this milde, offencelesse vertue. In this rare quality as she had an une­quall'd Master, so she prov'd a matchlesse Schollar. He who is ig­norant of the excellency she hath artain'd to in this one perfection, Idare pronounce him withall ig­norant of Gods holy Writ, and in­capeable of all goodnesse derived thence. Yet some sacrilegious theeves there are, who robbe this beautifull Temple of its prime or­nament, this sweetest Garland of its fairest Flower. They maintaine [Page 78](me thinks the earth should shake it selfe, and them when they utter it) that she was humbled, not hum­ble. These I may more properly averre to be learning, not learned. They may with as much justice deprive the Rose of her blush, the Lilly of her white, the Violet of her purple, and the Christall of its clearnesse, as her of this pretious ornament, which she obtein'd by a studious pious imitation, and pre­serv'd with a holy care. But my wonder is the lesse when I contem­plate the continuall Antipathy be­tweene Impudency, and Innocen­cie. Whosoever shall settle his me­ditation on her discourse with the Angell, her pilgrimage to her cou­sens house, and her divine Hymne there (though he have sworn him­selfe the slave of prejudice) he will [Page 79]breake his chaine, and reassume so much freedome as to declare her truly humble. Sure I am if they would have her halfe a degree humbler, they make her wholly abject. To my thinking these sixe words alone (Behold the hand­maid of the Lord) are able to con­vince of errour six thousand such shallow Authors. To those who are plac'd in an extreame height, all things below seeme farre smaller then indeed, they are, but to them­selues they appeare the same; but here it fals out otherwise, where the introducer of one pregnant blessing that contein'd all other in­to the world (and therefore wor­thily placed above it) thinks all things under her farre greater then her selfe, and above her in value. Certainly all the ancient Fathers [Page 80]with one consent affirme that she deserv'd to be Empresse of all o­thers, who humbled her selfe be­low them all. For my owne part, I am so transported with the medita­tion of her meeknesse that me thinks I heare her thus expressing the humility of her sanctified heart to the heavenly Nuntio.

Is this a delightfull dreame, or a pleasing vision that thus ravisheth my soule? What a lovely prospect is this? What do mine eyes behold? Cedars stooping to shrubs? Mountains to val­lies? The Occan courting a Riveret? I discover more then all this. I see Heaven descending to Earth, the su­preame Majesty to humane misery, a blessed Angell to a wretched mortall. True it is I am the structure of Gods owne hands, but an edifice not cleare, [Page 81]not faire enough for the habitation of his onely Sonne. Alas, alas! I am a vessel too uncleane to enclose a Deity. Is this flesh of mine pure enough to clothe purity it selfe? I am not worthy to be reputed his childe, much lesse his parent. Oh lend me thy harmonious voyce, thy heavenly Rhetoricke, thou celestiall Oratour, that I may render him thanks, and praise; though not equall, yet nearer to the grace I have received. I deny not but wee see his Name written in every thing here be­low, but in obscure Characters, like the discovery of the Sunne in a pud­dle. Thou art nearer him in essence, in presence, in goodnes, in knowledge, and canst finde out wor [...]s more sutea­ble to his worth. Wherefore I earnestly beseech thee in thy best phrase to pre­sent the unfained gratitude of his most humble Hand-maid, who esteems [Page 82]her selfe unworthy to touch, much more to conceive him. Neither shalt thou thy selfe depart without most humble thanks for the eternall honour thou hast done me by this visit.

It is probable enough she said much to this purpose, this forme of speech being agreeable to her disposition, and demeanour. To conclude this point, six cleare de­monstrations of her Humility e­minent above the rest, the holy Writ offers to our serious, and re­verend consideration. The first in this submissive conference with the Angel. The second in the house of Zachary, where the more her vertue is predicated by her cousen, the more she humbles her selfe. The third in her delivery, where she meekly submitted her [Page 83]selfe to all wants, and inconvenien­ces. The fourth in her Purificati­on, when she observ'd the custome of other uncleane sinfull women, and rankt her selfe with them. The fifth in betrothing her selfe to a Carpenter, and in paying as great an obedience to him as ever wo­man did to husband, and in joy­ning with him in labour to get a poore living, to maintaine them­selues, and their Sonne. The sixth in having a care of the poore, and in associating them at all times. But of all these I shall treate more at large in the course of this divine story, whose order now brings me to the mysticall conception of her blessed Sonne, our onely Lord, and Saviour Iesus Christ.

The heavenly Ambassadour ha­ving [Page 84]executed his great Masters command,Her con­ception. departs, leaves God, and Man in the wombe, and the Sonne of Righteousnesse is now risen in the virginall orbe. For this is theThis point is much cō ­trovert­ed, and I leave it to the discreete Reader what to beleeve. Lib. 18. Moral. ca. 27. tenent of the true, and an­cient Catholicke Church, that she conceiv'd immediately after the Angels speech, whom I had rather follow, then accompany many of these later times who oppose it. I will onely produce a few testimo­nies, and that of Gregory the great shall be the Leader. The Angell, saith he, declaring, and the Spirit ap­proaching, instantly the Word is in the wombe, and presently in the wombe the Word is made flesh, the incommu­table essence coeternall to him with the Father, De Sym­bol. ad Cate­chum. and the holy Ghost still re­maining. Him secondeth Saint Austin, of all the Fathers the most [Page 85]subtle and sollid. These ensuing are his owne words. When the An­gell saluted the Virgin, then did the holy Ghost make her fruitfull, then did that woman conceive a man with­out a man, then was shee replentsht with grace, then shee receiv'd the Lord, that hee might be in her who made her. And in another place he writeth thus. Make no delay, Serm. 2. infesto Annun. Domin. O Vir­gin, say but the word speedily to the Messenger, and receive thy Sonne, give thy Faith, and feele the vertue of it. Behold, saith she, the Handmaid of the Lord, be it to me according to thy word. Here was no delay at all, the divine Agent returneth, and Christ enters the Virginall wombe. The mo­ther of God is suddenly made fruit­full, and is predicated happy through­out all ages. She presently conceived the Divinity of the Word without the [Page 86]fellowship of a man. In this celebra­tion of the Nuptials betweene God and nature, while my affecti­on advanceth one steppe, my reve­rence retires another. Here Rea­son is transformed into Admirati­on, Eloquence into silence. Some are rather solicitous to search into the profundity of the Mystery, than humbly to acknowledge it, and by Reason seeke to pry in­to that which excludes all reason. What was before time it selfe,This concepti­on was predesti­nated be­fore Time, from all eternity. is believed, not comprehended by man; for that transcends the un­derstanding of man which was before his nature. No eyes but those of Faith, can penetrate this Wonder. All things in God are above reason, nothing above Faith. Here a Virgin conceives without the losse of Chastity, a [Page 87]Maide remaines an immaculate Mother. Eternity is here encom­pass'd by time, glory masked in misery. A thing finite containes Infinity, a mortall encloseth eter­nity. Here the Sonne is as antient as his Father, elder than his Mo­ther, and is made of her whom he made. Here is a concurrence, or a congregation of Miracles. It is a miracle that in the forming of such, and so great an issue the aide of man should be utterly exclu­ded, and that as he was man, he was onely made of the pure bloud of the Virgin. It is a miracle that the ordinary number of dayes re­quired in the forming of a humane body is not here observ'd, but in a very moment without succession of time a body is fram'd, and ani­mated. But a greater miracle than [Page 88]all these is that at the same instant wherein the soule is joyned to the body, the Divinity and Humani­ty are united in one person, and the eternall Word is inseperably linkt with the flesh; so that the Son of God and man is the same in the Virgins wombe. As for the manner of her conception, I doe not more mervaile at the super­naturall strangenesse of it, then I doe at the daring inquisition, and sensuall expression of some, who relate it in words as grosse as their owne understandings. I only wish I could free the most learned, and ingenious Erasmus from the just imputation of a lascivious folly in the Essaying to unfold this sacred Mystery. He compares God to a Woer, the Angell to a sollicitour, and Mary to the beloved, and pro­ceeds [Page 89]further than either the di­vine Will,Eras. in Anno­tat. Lei in Ap­pendice ad Anta­pologi­am Su­toris. or humane modesty permit. He treates of this venera­ble, this stupendious encounter betweene the Divinity and Huma­nity in the same amorous phrase with which the Poets describe the wanton meeting of Dido and Ae­neas in the Cave. I will not rip up the particulars in which he is faul­ty this way, lest I runne into the same errour which in him I repre­hend, and imprint a blush on the cheekes of my bashfull Readers. This conception was as spotlesse, and as cleare from all pollution as is a sweet Odour when it enters the sense. Here, saith Saint Austin,Serm. 11. in natal. Domini. the Word is the Husband, the Eare the Wife, in this glorious splendour is the Sonne of God conceiv'd, in this purity generated. Of the same [Page 90]cleare,Lib. 1. de operib. spiritus sancti. cap. 9. and cleane sense is Rupertus on this very passage. When the true­ly believing Maide, saith he, opening at once her minde and mouth said, Be­hold the Handmaid of the Lord, be it to me according to thy Word; in the very instant (to make good the words of the Angell) the holy Ghost came upon her, and enter'd through the open dores of her Faith. What part did he enter? first the Chappell of her chaste bosome, then the Temple of her holy and incorrupt wombe: her bosome, that she might be made a Prophetesse, her wombe, that shee might become a mother. Now for the time of this conception, whether or no it were precisely on the 25. day of March, I will not strive to chaine any mans beleefe to a resolution here­in, though I finde many old and great Doctors of the Church to [Page 91]have held it for a truth. Many que­stions here arise which I have nei­ther time, nor desire to discusse. I will onely looke into the deport­ment of this incomparable crea­ture after that she knew she was become the receptacle of a Deity. The meere apprehension of such an unheard of honour in other women, would have begotten pride, arrogancy, and disdaine, not onely of all their sexe, but of mankinde it selfe. They would have repin'd at their breathing of common ayre, and (scorning the earth they trod on) have nourisht an ambition to walke on the bat­tlements of heaven. But this Maide above imagination excel­lent, the more she was grac'd and dignified, the more she was hum­bled. When all men admir'd, and [Page 92]even ador'd her, and judg'd her worthy to be presently assumed into heaven, she was ready to creepe into the center of the earth, and there to hide her, thinking that every one pointed at her, as undeserving that supreme dignity confer'd on her by God himselfe. And whereas others would have studied nothing but rich Tissues, and embroyderies to weare, and the most costly Persian Carpers to tread on, she meditated simpli­city in apparell, and a good pain of shooes to beare her afoot jour­ney over the steepe and flinty mountaines, intending to bestow a Visit on her cousin Elizabeth.

Her vi­sitation.Many of her kinde, and in her high estate, and condition would hardly have acknowledg'd, or re­ceiv'd their kindred, much lesse have trotted over hils, and dales, to make a tender of their duties to them. Here is a rare spectacle, Hu­mility climing, a thing as contra­ry to the nature of it, as it is to things ponderous of themselues to flie. [...]his soveraigne of her sexe havir [...] the celestiall Monarch in­cludeth the narrow compasse of her wombe, made haste to passe those steep, stony, and rugged hils, the willingnesse of her minde en­abling the feeblenes of her body. And, to say the truth, whether should she (whose worth exalted her above all things else) go but to places as eminent in scituation [Page 95]as she in sweetnesse of disposition? Whither should this Eagle flie, but to the summity of the world? Sure I am she could not sore above the pitch of her owne value. Shee forsooke the sweet embellisht val­lies, where with ease she might have walked, and betooke her selfe to the craggy mountaines, which not without infinite labour, and paine she could ascend. By these rough, and uneven wayes, have the holy Martyrs themselues mounted the promontory of vertue, and have found the end of their jour­ney as sweet as their travell bitter. Overtue the minds that travell to thy Indies how rich they returne! They come backe laden with those pretious [...]naments that beautifie this life, and those Panchayan odours that sweeten the deprivation of it, and perfume po­sterity. [Page 96]True it is that thy seas are rough, & to him that lancheth into the deepe, appeare at first terrible, but if with confidence & constancy he plows them up, and with a fixed patience en­dures the frownes of an angry skie, he shall at length discover a calme smooth as thy owne forehead, on which Fortune, Time, and vice could never yet imprint one wrinckle. Vnder thy sacred safe conduct hath many a su­perstitiously devout distressed femall pilgrim (after the endurance of heat, and cold without, of hunger, and thirst within, and other miserable accidents innumerable) arrived with comfort at the supposed shrine of this our bles­sed Saint, who here (having no other guard than thy potent selfe) exposeth her dainty feet to the knowne cruelty of flints hard, and sharpe alike, and her sacred person to labour, and infi­nite [Page 97]hazards incident to the poore Traveller. She who meriteth to sit under a cloth of state, beset with the earths most precious stones, and a presence throng'd with Em­presses, as happy waiters graced in this attendance doth here commit her self into the hands of solitude, and danger. Thus did the Spouse of the holy Spirit overcome the narrow, and difficult paths of these steepe mountaines, Charity lead­ing her by one hand, and Humility by the other. And if we diligently peruse Gods sacred Word, we shall there finde the Mountaines honour'd with many notable acts. Where did that parent of an innu­merable issue, Abraham, prepare the immolation of his only sonne? On a mountaine. Where did Moses receive the Tables of the divine [Page 98]Law? On a mountaine. Where did Christ, (his Humanity concealed) transfigure his face into a counte­nance of eternall glory? On a mountaine. Where did he shed his purest bloud, and lay downe his dearest life as an expiation for our hainous and manifold sinnes? On a mountaine. But why these fa­mous Acts were performed on mountains rather then in vallies, Reason hath not a sight strong, and quicke enough to discover. But this is evident, that God hath not plac'd Heaven it selfe on the one side of us, or under our feet, but over our heads, that we might e­rect our looks, and fixe them on his eternall habitation, and aspire to enter the celestiall Canaan; indeed our true countrey, out of which while we live, we leade but a dy­ing, [Page 99]and a slavish life, and are no other then unfortunate exiles. And surely the very sight of sublime places breeds in us high thoughts. We commonly looke downe on things despicable, the eyes of ad­miration are bent upward.

The cause why she tooke this journey, I shall endeavour to relate so briefly, that I will strive to avoid even long syllables. Yet do so ma­ny pious doctrines, and uses, flow from these two Christalline springs, that they alone are suffi­cient to compose an entire booke of a vast volume.

The Angell that he might be­get, and strengthen a beleefe in Mary of what he had said confirms this miracle with another, and tels [Page 100]her that her Cousen Elizabeth al­so in her old declining age had conceiv'd a sonne, and that this was now the sixth moneth of her being quicke. These glad tydings, no doubt, delighted much our blessed Ladies minde, where they could not stay without rendring a faire encrease of fruit, first in me­ditation, then in action. Question­lesse, she no sooner heard them but her soul was delivered of a twinne of vows; the first was, to praise God, that he out of his best plea­sure, and infinite goodnesse had vouchsafed to crowne her cousens fruitfull vertue with the blessing of a childe, she being now in yeares, when despaire had chased all such hopes out of her breast, and bar­rennesse (as the world conceiv'd) had seal'd up her wombe. The [Page 101]other was, all impediments set apart, to give her cousin a visit in her owne Country, and habitati­on. Having performed the first, her thankesgiving for her, she un­dertakes the latter, her journey to her. Nor was she long about it, but with all speed possible set for­ward, lest she might seeme not readily to obey the incitation of the holy Ghost, or be wanting to her cousin in any good office shee could doe her. Neither could the consideration of her owne Maje­sty, of the teeming estate she was in,In con­cione de visitat. Mariae. of the disasters to which Tra­vellers are subject, of the uneven­nesse of the way, or of theFrom Naza­reth to not many affirme. length (which Melancthon affirms to have beene twenty Dutch miles) deter Ierusalem, where that Elizabeth dwelt, moderne Divines but S. Austin, and Beda [Page 102]her from undergoing this tedious pilgrimage. And as she readily undertakes it, so she makes haste in it. She well understood that de­layes in spirituall affaires were as dangerous as relapses in bodily diseases.

Her Charity.Behold here a prodigall Charity that hath no respect of it selfe, being onely intentive on the good of another. It was charity that withdrew her from her belo­ved privacry into the publike view, which till then she had ever shun'd. It was Charity that added wings to her feet, and armed her heart against all sinister accidents that could happen. It was Charity that emboldened her to goe to her cousin without any invitation, not being expected by her, or, happily, by face knowne to her, and with confi­dence [Page 103]of welcome to enter her house. It was charity that caus'd her to tender service there where it was due to her selfe. It was cha­rity that cheer'd her up, and sent her on this congratulating Embas­sy. Lastly, it was Charity that in­vited sanctity it selfe enclosed in this happy Maide to hasten to the sanctification of the childe in the wombe of Elizabeth.

Having patiently passed the troubles and annoyances of her voyage, she with joy at length ar­rives at her cousins habitation, in­to which she no sooner puts her head, but the reverend Prophe­tesse (having no other revealer, nor prompter than the holy Spirit) immediately knoweth the Mother of her Lord to be there present, [Page 104]and knowing doth acknowledge it, and acknowledging doth mag­nifie her perfections, & professeth her house blessed in being graced with her vouchsafing to be in it. She at first sight discernes in her so many, and so great concealed vertues and mysteries, that a man would judge she had beene pre­sent at the enterview of her, and the Angell. Nor did she conceale these her excellencies, but did de­scribe them with such skill and zeale, that Fame was even proud to repeat them. Could the dome­sticall servants thinke you (having heard their Mistresse predicate her divine qualities, and transcen­dent condition) containe them­selves from divulging a joy which a narrow humane bosome is not capacious enough to receive? [Page 105]Could they abstaine from justly boasting that a beauteous blessed Maide resided then in their house, which together with their soules were by her glorious presence en­lightened?

But I can no longer with-hold my pen from setting downe the journey it selfe, and their mutuall salutations in the same words wherein the Text commends them to us. And Mary arose in those dayes, and went into the hill-Country with haste to a City of Iuda, and en­ter'd into the house of Zacharias, and saluted Elizabeth. And it came to passe as Elizabeth heard the salutati­on of Mary, the Babe sprang in her belly, and Elizabeth was filled with the holy Ghost: and she cryed with a loud voyce, and said. Blessed art thou [Page 106]amongst women, because the fruit of thy wombe is blessed. And whence commeth this to passe that the Mother of my Lord should come to me? For loe as soone as the voyce of thy saluta­tion sounded in mine eares, the Babe sprang in my belly for ioy. And bles­sed is shee that believ'd; for those things shall be performed which were told her from the Lord. Then Mary said; My soule magnifieth the Lord, and my spirit reioyceth in God my Sa­viour; for he hath regarded the lowli­nesse of his handmaid; for behold from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed. Because he that is mighty hath magnified me, and holy is his name. And his mercy is from generation to generation on them that feare him. Hee hath shewed strength with his arme, he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their [Page 107]hearts. He hath put downe the mighty from their seates, and hath exalted the humble and meeke. He hath filled the hungry with good things, the rich he hath sent empty away. He hath up­holden Israell his servant, being mindefull of his mercy. As he hath spoken to our fathers, to wit, Abra­ham, and his seed for ever.

In this salutation of Elizabeth, the springing of the Babe in her wombe at the sound of our swee­test Ladies voyce requires not on­ly our observation but astonish­ment. He that was greater than all the Prophets as yet not borne, and enclosed in the narrow compasse of the Wombe no sooner heard the charming voyce of this hea­uenly Nightingale, but he leaped for joy, essaying then, and there [Page 108]to exercise the office of the Fore-runner of his Master▪ The asseveration of some that this was not an effec [...] of the Virgins vertue,S. Bernard saies, that if an Jnfant was so over-joyd at the sound of her voyce, what will the joy of the Ce­lestiall inhabi­tants be, when they shall see and heare her? Serm. 1. de assump. Ma­riae. but of the Word incarnate [...] may be admitted fo [...] good, if we onely have an eye to her Vertue, and ex­clude the aide, and power of the divine Grace. But all Wisedomes Children are by Truth, her selfe in­formed that many things are lawfully attributed to secondary Causes, the pri­mary and efficient cause not rejected. And this way we may impute to Mary, what worke soever God with her co-operating hath wrought either in the [Page 109]house of Zachary, or else where for the benefit, and instruction of us poore mortals Neither will any sound, and sollid judgement attri­bute any thing to the conspicuous merits of the Virgine Mary, or any other Saint, without the concur­rence and predication of the di­vine Grace, who by those Saints that serve, and feare him, distri­butes his gifts, and favours to Man­kinde. That sentence of Christ is no way obscure;Ioh. 14. He that beleeves in [...], shall do the works that I do, and greater. By many examples the Scriptures do confirme the com­ming of Saints to any mans dwel­ling to conferre upon him both Grace and Happinesse. Three An­gels came to Abraham, Gen. 18. whom he entertain'd taking them for pil­grims, when the Patriarch forth­with [Page 110]with became fortunate in the ob­teining of that for which so long he had offer'd up vows to God, namely a sonne; his wife and he, being by the course of nature, past the generation of children.Gen. 19. A­gaine, two Angels came to Lot, and lodg'd in his house at So­dome, and sav'd their host, and his two daughters from being reduc't to cinders with their City. Iacob visited wicked Laban, Gen. 30. to whom God granted a singular blessing for that idolater, in so much that he himselfe confessed it, saying, I have learned by experience that God hath blessed me for thy sake Elizeus to expresse the kindnesse he recei­ved at the hands of his hostesse,4. Kin. 4. the Shunamite, restored her dead sonne to life. The Apostles them­selues brought peace, and felicity [Page 111]to all hospitable men whose dwel­lings they enter'd. And shall the arrivall of Gods owne mother at the house of Zachary prove onely vaine, and fruitlesse in bringing no divine consolation to her kin­dred? Yes surely, Elizabeth tasted the fruit of her all-gladding pre­sence; for she could not conceale the pleasure conceived in her heart, but utter'd it in the best words she could. Iohn himselfe also tellisht it, and by his motion gave what signes he could of the con­tent, and worship he receiv'd, and payd. Neither could it otherwise be but the Mansion of Zachary and the adjacent countrey were both delighted, and sanctified by the three moneths residence of her, who bore not about, but in her, the Author, and consummatour of all [Page 112]piety. Their joy, questionlesse, was beyond imagination great, in that they had never before seene Gods gifts, and graces passing through so pure an organ of his Spirit. But the aged Prophetesse her selfe, doubtlesse was in a holy delitious Trance at the very first steppe she made over her threshold, and thought her house, but halfe blest till the other foot was in. Their mutuall salutation surely was low, and submissive, which I cannot better expresse then by the suppo­sition of the encounter of two shades softly creeping ore the face of the earth. The Evangelist deli­vereth onely the Compendium of their conference, which could not be but as long as serious. They treated surely of deepe miraculous Mysteries, as of the incarnation of [Page 113]the Word, of the persecution of her, and Gods onely Sonne, as al­so of his passion, and the salvation of Mankinde. And here it will nei­ther be a thing impious nor imper­tinent (binding our selues strictly to the substance of their short dis­course) to ayme at the amplifica­tion thereof, by which happily it may come to passe that the suppo­sition of what they might say may turne to a Truth of what they said indeed. This then, or like to this was, or might be the speech of the holy Matron to the more holy Virgin.

What looks shall I put on? What words shall I assume, what entertain­ment shall I finde out, O Princely Vir­gin! to give thee a welcome answera­ble to thy merits who art Superiour, to [Page 114]the Saints in Heaven, and the prime glory of thy Sex on Earth? I am whol­ly transformed into shame when I con­sider every way thy Excellency, and my unworthinesse. Alas! what is there in miserable me that should invite the mother of my Lord to afford me a vi­sit, who am the meanest of his Crea­tures? What equality is here? Thou who art full of Grace, comest to mee void of it: Thou who art famous for thy Fertilitie to me who have beene a long time infamous for my Barren­nesse. Thy Charity and Humility made thee forget thy sublime and my low estate, and conducted thee to my poore Cottage no way fit to receive thee. Most of thy Sexe having attain­ed to thy supreame condition (who did'st conceive and nourish the Crea­tour and Redeemer of the world with that thy clearest bloud of which he was [Page 115]made) would have advanced their heads above Mortality, and disdain­ing all inferiour Conversation would have demanded as their due, to be as­sumed into the imperiall Heaven. But in thee, one heat hath expelled ano­ther, the flames of thy zeale have ut­terly consumed those of thy Pride (if any thou ever had'st) and thou art so farre from vaunting, that thou by all meanes seekest to conceale that daintie Fruit of which all Posterity shall taste, and never be satisfied, and for which all Generations shall call thee blessed. But from others thou mayst hide it, from me thou canst not, to whom the Spirit hath reveal'd it, and the sprin­ging of the Childe in my wombe hath testified it; and if the Children of Is­rael should be so dull, and unhappy, as not to apprehend it, God would give the stones an articulate voyce pro­claime [Page 116]it. The Lord of mee, and all things else, hath firmely seated him­selfe in thee, and chosen thee for his mother, to the end that the seed of A­braham may breake the head of the Serpent, and the Sonne of David bring reliefe to his forlorne and di­stressed Church, streightly beseiged by the Prince of Darknesse, and his in­fernall Troopes. True it is, I am above thee in yeares, but in desert infinitely below thee, and therfore ought to have prevented this thy painfull joyrney by comming first to thee to congratulate thy happinesse, and not onely in the be­halfe of my selfe, my kindred, and Nation, but in the name of Gods se­lected people to tender thee most hum­ble though not condigne thanks for so readily assenting to beare, bring forth, and educate their Soveraigne Lord and Redeemer. But thou having got­ten [Page 117]the start of me in goodnesse, art come to me ere I could set forward towards thee, and now thou art here, Irepine at nothing more that at my disability to serve thee. Thou who meritest to have the earth, the water, and the ayre ransack't to please thy pallat, shall have no­thing here but the simple viands of Nature prepared by as simple an Art. But trust me, what ever is here is true­ly thine owne, and my selfe to boot. My willing heart to waite on thee, and obey all thy Commands, shall supply all other defects. Such is my desire to attend, and please thee that doe but signifie thy pleasure by the least becke or nod, and thou shalt see how nimbly I will bestirre these aged limmes, and place before thine eyes a plaine and evident conversion of Impoteney into Ability. I shall not [Page 118]thinke any paines my weakenesse can endure too great, nor any cost my purse can compasse too deare for thee. Wher­fore I earnestly beseech thee to blesse me, and my house with thy long abode, and let not our course and slender fare make thee hasten my death in thy sud­den returne. O my brightest Starre! envy me not thy comfortable shine, but let me Live in it till I exchange it for a brighter in Heaven. The dayes of my Pilgrimage are even now at an end; O leave me not then, who art the Staffe and Solace of mine Age! but stay the arrivall of my last minute, and with thy fairest hands close up these my dimme eyes. So shall I bid farewell to this world with content, and enter the other with glory. Thou my sweetest Princesse who hast verifi­ed the Prophecy of Esay, and being an unspotted Virgin, dost conceive and [Page 119]bring forth to the world our Emanu­ell; grant this my first, and most hum­ble request. O thou daughter of Abra­ham! who hast surpassed thy Fathers Faith in beleeving things which seeme more impossible to humane Reason: if in this rude speech of mine I have over-talked my selfe, or under­spoken thee, impute it to my declining and doting yeares, and grant me thy Pardon. Thus I end, but not without adding to those I have already given thee, a Myriade of Welcomes, and a million of Aves more.

The vertuous Maid undoubted­ly was not here mute, but devided her speech betweene God and her Cousin. She directed (with I know not whether greater Piety, or Prudency) her praise to the for­mer ere she would vouchsafe to [Page 120]make a reply to the latter. An an­swer without all peradventure her humanity afforded her, and to this purpose for ought we know, might it be.

‘Dearest Cousin, your own wise­dome will plead my excuse, in that I rendred him laud to whom it belongs, ere I accepted of it my selfe to whom it is not due. You magnifie me, and I my Creator. Your sacred issue moved with de­light at the sound of my harsh voyce, and my spirit rejoyceth in the Mercy of my sweetest Savi­our. You give me attributes more proper to my Maker than to me, not unlike those Heathen who take off the heads from the Ima­ges of their Gods, and fasten them to the shoulders of their Princes [Page 121]Statues. Your commendations fit your selfe better than me, and re­semble those resplendent rayes which returne into the radiant bo­dy that sent them forth. In a word, you have subscribed my Name to your owne Character. The humbling and undervaluing of your self is a strong argument of your vertue; for [...] in a field of Corne we see the empty eares to hold up their heads, the fuller to hang them downe. I am in my Spring, you in your Autumne; I produce the Blossome, but you beare the fruit. What the most penetrating Eye can discerne in me, the most partiall Tongue will call a superficiall ornament, but the dimmest sight may soone dis­cover that in you, which the most detracting Penne must be forced [Page 122]to style essentiall worth. Thus dig­nified, give me leave to tell you, sweetest Cousin, that you offer me an affront together with your service. A seemely sight it were surely to behold decrepit age wai­ting on active youth, wisedome on vanity; a venerable Matron on a simple Girle. The scope of my journey is to attend you, to lend you my strength, now your owne failes you, and to serve you through all the offices of your Hand-maid. Doe but intimate your will by the least signe, and you shall see me flye to performe it. Your Invention cannot de­vise any thing so impossible, which my will (ambitious to please you) will not judge most easie to be executed. Whereas you intreat me to stay long with [Page 123]you, you transgresse the Lawes of Friendship in petitioning her whom you may justly and bold­ly command. A thing strange to me it is, that you should thinke me so stupid and sencelesse, as that I should need an invitation to be made truely happy. Before I had the honour to see you, I envi­ed those that enjoyed your sweet and divine conversation, and thought they enricht themselves with my losse; wherefore a staffe to beat me hence is more requi­site, than Oratory to keepe mee here. Ever since the blessed An­gell imparted to me the newes of your being fruitfull, my desire to see you hath beene restlesse, and next to God I have onely medita­ted you and your goodnesse. O my best Cousin! whose fervent [Page 124]and devout prayers obtaine victo­ries, whose Fasts abundance, joy [...] with me in thankesgiving to God for the grace which I shall never be able to conceive, much lesse to expresse or deserve. Him with al [...] my heart and with all my soule I invoke, that blessings may fall upon you before, and above your wishes, and that you may yet long live to his glory, and my Comfort.’

Had their three months demea­nour each to other, together with their godly discourse, and pious practise of it, beene penn'd to po­sterity (had all other Bookes been burnt save that and the Bible) the Femall sexe in these two should have found matter ample enough to exercise both their Meditation [Page 125]and action. Sure I am the Romish Church,Sess. 43. Concil. Basileen. as in an honourable me­noriall of this their Charitable Encounter, hath ordained the An­nuall Celebration of a solemne Feast. And the Councell of Basil of what authoritie in other things know not certainly in this one particular very commendable) hath decreed the solemnization of this Festivall day in these verie words.

The Blessed Virgin being instructed the celestiall Messenger, and con­ducted by the Holy Ghost, ascended in haste the mountanous Countrey, and entred the humble house of Zachary. For IESUS who was in her wombe, wade haste to blesse Iohn as yet in his Mothers Belly. And the most glorious Virgin visiting her Cousen Eliza­beth, was pleasing to her both in her [Page 126]loving visitation, and fruitfull Col­loquie. The Consideration of this Ex­celling Mystery ought to delight the mindes of the Faithfull, wherein these two glorious Mothers (who bore about them the comencement and accom­plishment of our Salvation) did so fa­miliarly communicate their joyes, and wherein the most excellent Virgin Mary of the House of David, and E­lizabeth the most venerable amongst the Daughters of Aaron discours'd together. The first of these had inclo­sed in her wombe the Creatour and Redeemer of us all, the latter his Fore­runner. These Saints being made Mo­thers by a Miracle conferr'd together of the Divine benefits they had recei­ved. The meeting of this worthy paire was most happie, and illustrated with great, and glorious testimonies of the divine Grace. The one conceived by [Page 127]the cooperation of the holy Spirit, the [...]her by Myracle in her old Age, and both their issues foretold by the celesti­all Angell. Iohn as yet imprisoned in his Mothers wombe doth worship his Lord borne to him in Maries Belly; and Elizabeth fill'd with the Holy Ghost doth congratulate the Concepti­on of the Sonne of God, and the Savi­ [...] of Mankinde, and prophecying declares her Cousen blessed in belee­ving, and contemplating the myste­ries revealed to her. On the other side Mary full of unutterable joy, layed up all these sayings in her heart, which before she had heard from the Angel, and now from Elizabeth, and breaks out into a Song of Thanksgiving to the Lord. Who can sufficiently praise so great Mysteries? Who can declare those joyes to the full? Iohn not yet borne rejoyceth, Elizabeth is delight­ed [Page 128]with the arrivall of the Virgin, Mary is extreamely pleased in the Mysteries, the Saviour of the world is acknowledged by his Fore-runner, not onely the Angels, but Heaven and Earth resent the pleasure, and the whole Trinitie is glorified with new praises. Wherefore the greatnesse of these joyes is to be extolled with espe­ciall commendations, and with sin­gular solemnities to be celebrated, and the Lord in the wombe, the Virgin that beares him, the barren that con­ceives, and the Fore-runner that it sanctified ought to be presented with all imaginable praises and honours.

With this pious and gratefull ordinance of the Church I con­clude the visitation of our incom­parable Lady, and now proceed to her Deliverie.

Her de­livery.We reade in holy Writ of three supernaturall Productions, the one of Adam, the other of Eve, the last of Christ, which as most miracu­lous we are now to treat of. Here in his Nativitie, as before in his Conception, let us turne Inquisition into thanksgiving, and with one spirit and voyce sing aloud,Ps. 118.22. The stone which the Builders refused is the head of the corner. This was the Lords doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes. This is the day which the Lord hath made, let us rejoyce, and be glad in it. This is our wedding-day, wherein by the Sonne we are joyned to the Father. This is the day of the new union, wherein he who is God re­maineth the same that he was, yet for our sakes is borne, and made what he was not; wherein he that [Page 130]was every where without a Body, is made present to us by a Body, that what God hath by Nature, men might receive by Grace. This is a great, a joyfull, a fortunate, a desired day, the end of the Law, the end of the Prophets, the begin­ning of the Gospell, nay the Go­spell it selfe. This is a day of State, usher'd by the Angels, follow'd by the Apostles. Let our Mindes remove the distance of Time and place, and dwell a while with our all-holy-Lord and blessed Lady, lest we loose the pleasure of this day, the least Accident whereof is Mysterious. What a brave assem­bly of Visitants of all Conditions resorted this day to this place, which then might rightly be call­ed the Randevous of the Saints? Would you see those who are a­bove [Page 131]men, but below him who is borne? Behold the Angels sing­ing his birth. Do you desire to be­hold the married? Here you have Zachary and Elizabeth. The un­married? Here you have Symeon. Widdows? Here you have Anna. Priests? Here againe you have Za­chary. Wise men? Here you have them from the East. Ideots? You have here the Shepheards. But here is to be noted, that these kee­pers of Beasts heare the voyce of the Angels before any of the o­ther, first receive the Gospell, and first divulge it. And in this they were more happie then Augustus himselfe, who (though he had made a firme Peace by Sea and Land, and had now the third time shut up the Temple of Ianus) yet was he ignorant of the blessed [Page 132]Peace concluded on betwixt God and Man. O how much sometimes Ignorance avails in Divine mat­ters! Kings, Potentates, the Rulers of the Earth, and the wise of this world are asleepe while Christ is borne. These most simple of Mor­tals, and innocent as the creatures they tend, watch all night, and therefore are first made partakers of these joyfull news. As their owne wooll not yet dipt in any dye readily drinks in any colour they please to bestow on it: So their minds voyd of all humane wisedome, greedily suckt in the Divine; Faith is the Compendium of Salvation, and humane know­ledge of times the obstacle of Faith. Aristotle having confined to Heaven, the Maker, and Moover of it, would never have beleeved [Page 133]his birth here below. Plato would have derided this miraculous rela­tion, who the more he attributed to God, the lesse would he have expected his so humble comming into the world. Neither would the Stoicks who held God to be a fire, nor Hipocrates who thought him to be a warm'th, ever have look't for him clad in flesh and bloud. Wherefore they are here elected witnesses of this strange truth, whose Science was of abili­ty strongly to beleeve, not wittily to dispute. O what proficients in Faith did these rusticall Swaines prove in a moment! What a pro­found secret is imparted to them? Let us examine the verity of this by that infallible Touch-stone, the text. And there were in the same Coun­try, Shepheards abiding in the field, [Page 134]& keeping watch by night, because of their flocke, and loe the Angell of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone about them, and they were sore afraid. Then the An­gell said unto them, Be not afraid; for behold I bring you tidings of great joy that shall be to all the people: That is, that unto you is borne this day a Saviour which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a signe unto you; you shall finde the Childe swadled and layd in a Cratch. And straight way there was with the Angell a multitude of heavenly Souldiers, praysing God, and saying; Glory be to God in the high Heaven, and Peace on Earth, and towards men good will. And it came to passe that when the Angels were gone away from thence into Heaven, that the Shepheards said one to another; Let us goe then unto [Page 135]Bethlem, and see this thing that is come to passe, which the Lord hath shewed unto us; so they came with haste, and found both Mary and Ioseph with the Babe layd in the Cratch. And when they had seene it, they publisht abroad the thing that was told them of that Childe.

Here three things especially are remarkable:

First, their forwardnesse in be­lieving:

Secondly, the speed they made to see what they had believed, and

Thirdly, to publish what they had seene.

That they quickly believed, ap­peares by the haste they made to see. They no sooner saw him, but they found him to be the King of Israell indeed, yet withall to be a [Page 136]Shepheard. They instantly dis­cerne this to be the Shepheard, who was to lay downe his life for his flocke. The Prince of all Shep­heards whose sheepe-fold is the world: The Shepheard that was to seperate the Goates from the Sheepe. They discover'd this to be the immaculate Lambe that was to take away the sinnes of the world. They disclos'd this Lamb to be the greatest Lyon of the Tribe of Iudah. Whom now they looke on in the Cratch, Saint Iohn shall hereafter behold on his Throne. These men in whom there was no guile as they could not deceive others, so they could not in this be deceiv'd. They nee­ded not suspect any fallacy, and therefore might safely relate this divine wonder to all they met.

The second witnesses of this Mi­racle are the Wise men. After God had laid open the Treasure of his divine secrets to Idiots, he shewes them also to the wise. It seemes the Earth at this time was become the Booke of Gods grea­test Mysteries, and Heaven the Index. In this they finde the Star of this King of the Iewes, which (having beene before the decla­rer of his Nativity) they now make their guide in their journey. The Starre performing this duty to its Creator, at length brings them to Bethlem, where they view him in the Crateh, whose Nativi­ty before they had found in the Heavens. To him they doe Ho­mage, tender adoration, and pay Tribute, and opening their Trea­sures, [Page 138]make him an oblation of Gold, Incense, and Mirrhe. Whom before they had in vaine sought in the Heavens, they now finde on the earth, and in the most sorded part of it, a Stable, full of severall stinkes; where he (to whom none are worthy to be ser­vants) had two dull Beasts for his Companions.

Returne now you Sonnes of wise­dome to your owne home, by much more learned, by more than much more happy than when you set out. Heaven is now set open to you, which before your unbeliefe kept shut against you. If you be Chaldaeans or Per­sians, or both, spreade through those Nations the fame of that which you have seene. Publish in all places this the greatest mystery of Piety, [Page 139]which God is onely able to produce, [...]ly faith can apprehend. Of all [...]reatures to man onely belongs the [...]ift of Reason, by the rule whereof he [...]asures all things. But doc not you [...]e so, lest you fall not onely into an [...]rreparable, but a damnable errour. follow you the instruction of Faith, and where ere you come with a holy [...]ide, proclaime that God is manife­ [...]ed in the flesh, justified in the Spirit, [...]ene by Angels, reveal'd to Shep­ [...]ards, found out and ador'd by you [...]our selves, and hereafter to be as­sum'd, and to sit in glory farre above those starres you daily read. Goe, and give out that there is nothing greater in Heaven, than what you have found in a Stable. Yet ere you depart, con­vince the stiffe-necked Iewes of their lofty, but grosse errour, in diligently seeking to know God in that part [Page 140]wherein he will lye hid, a [...] in taking no notice of him i [...] that part wherein he would be knowne: in looking for [...] Saviour from The Iews when ever it lighte­neth, set open their windowes: for they hold their Saviour shall come in lighte­ning. On this reade Buxdorfi­us. Heaven, wh [...] is already borne on earth Yet now I consider their obsti­nacy better, I wish you t [...] spare your here fruitlesse ad­vise: for the eares of this wicked generation is stopped, their hearts obdurate, and they are as fully resolved to goe on in their wickednesse, as you in your journey.

Having proved his Na­tivity by these holy Testa­tors, let us now enter our selves, and view this pret­ty one in his narrow lodg­ing, lay our selves prostrate [Page 141]before him, worship him, and re­ [...]ate our selues with the lovely [...]bject. And that our delight may [...] the greater, let us first behold [...], and his sweetest Mother a [...]art, then both together. But [...]et us here shut out the Pharisees, [...]nd barre them the sight of this [...]eavenly Infant, who urge the [...]aw, and reject him the Author [...]it. Let us exclude the Arrians, [...]ho deny his coequalitie with the [...]her, and the Sabellians who [...]n found the Trinitie, of which [...]is distinctly one, and hold that [...]ere is in it one Essence, and one [...]rson: and the Samosatenians, [...]ho derogate from his Nature, [...]nd avouch the Word (which tru­ [...] he is) to be no other then a va­ [...]hing sound. Nor let us onely [...]epe out these, but the whole [Page 142]swarme also of Atheists, and He­reticks. Let the Philosophers too stay without, who not so impious, yet more ignorant, cannot dive to the bottome of this Mystery. But to all those who are honour'd in the assumption and profession of his glorious Name a free accesse is granted. Enter then you little flock, you few whom his Father hath bestowed on him, and see him, who when he gave the Law appeared in Fire, now he offers Grace involv'd in Hay. Yet in this dejected posture, in this course manner while he lay, he wanted not a whole Army of Angelicall spirits that declar'd his Birth to Men, and they who had before chanted his praises as he sate in Glory, now sing his goodnesse ly­ing in the Cratch. Though he have [Page 143]a hoomely roofe over his head, [...]e East observes his approach. Though the poverty of his Hu­manitie obscures his Deity, the Starres in Heaven make it known. [...]ehold him who came humble to [...]he humble, for the humble, and [...]et his humility is above all subli­mity. Reverently and intentively [...]ook on him who descended from Heaven to Earth, who came to you, into you, who is borne in the [...]ight, borne in the midst of Win­ter, and borne (after the wretch­ed humane condition) naked, and [...]one offer him assistance. Swad­ [...]ling clothes are wanting, some [...]agges are found out, a Cradle is missing, a Manger is at hand.

Here he cryes to you, and holds up [...]is pretty hands to Heaven, which he [Page 144]cals to witnesse that he can humble himselfe no lower. Can you view this humble, this mercifull spectacle, and not weepe your selues into marble? O speedily put on sackcloth! besprinckle your selues with Ashes, kneele downe in the dust and dung under the Man­ger where your Lord lyes, knock your selues on the bosomes, fetch sighs and grones from the bottom of your hearts, repay him the teares he lent you, and by your sad gesture and deportment demonstrate how much you are bound to him who suffered for you even in his Birth.

Having seene the Sonne, now stedfastly place your eyes upon the Mother. Behold the unpollu­ted Mayd (a great part of the won­der) sitting neare the Manger, be­ing voyd of all lust, chast in Soule [Page 145]and Body, who doth now con­fesse that of which she is not capa­ble without a miracle, to wit, that she is a Mother, and with fixed eyes expressing now joy, now ad­miration, sees her selfe wedded to Heaven. She beholds her selfe a Mother deliver'd of her Parent, a handmaid of her King, and Ma­ster. She to her astonishment finds that she hath brought forth an issue more mighty then David, more ancient then Adam. And now she feeles the tender, and ardent affection of a Mother, but the old love she hath borne her virginity gives it an allay. Here the Mother, the Midwife, and the Nurse are one and the same, lest any thing lesse pure should handle him then her who brought him forth. And now she nurseth this Heavenly in­fant [Page 146]with her pure milke, which flows from no mortall lust, but from the Celestiall Grace. Her breasts white as their owne milke pressed by her delicate fingers, as white as either, he softly pats, and playes with. Sometimes he re­paires to them for sport, some­times for necessity, and he who feeds all things else draws thence his nourishment. He casteth up now one eye, now the other, and with a pleasing looke gives her a sweet smile, not unlike to that which Zephirus imprints on the cheeke of the Rose. She returnes him another, and her infinite, but chaste, affection she divides be­tweene her Sonne, and her virgi­nity. And now her extasie being a little over, she cals to minde that she hath often read her owne story [Page 147]fore-told by the Prophets, That a Virgin should bring forth a Sonne.

Fly, O fly farre hence you Monsters of women, who carry leprous soules in polluted bodies, and have not one ver­tue to rescue you from the Legion of our vices. Depart hence you who are lives to Lust, whose fetters you have [...]orne so long, that they have made a [...]pe impression in your mindes. You [...] have spent your time in the [...]rch after alluring dresses, and in [...]on dalliance shall have no en­ [...]nce here. You who have received [...]th delight one warme Masculine [...]sse, shall here be excluded. Nay you [...]ho have had onely one unchaste [...]ought, shall not here be admitted, [...]thout being prepared by a cleansing [...]rty Repentance. This is the lodging [...] Purity, into which nothing must [Page 148]come that is uncleane. But you whose chaste eyes have never sent out lust­full beames, nor received them in, whose Bosomes have beene of proofe against the fierce assaults and Batte­ries of Temptation, you are so farre from being forbidden to come here, that you are earnestly invited hither. You who have lived spirituall Amou­rists, whose spirits have triumphed over the Flesh, on whose Cheeks Soli­tude, Prayers, Fasts, and Austerity have left an amiable pale: You who ply your sacred Arithmeticke, and have thoughts cold, and cleare as the Christall beads you pray by: You who have vow'd virginity mentall, and corporall, you shall not onely have in­gresse here, but welcome. Approach with Comfort, and kneele downe be­fore the Grand white Immaculate Abbesse of your snowy Nunneries, and [Page 149]resent the all-saving Babe in her Irmes with due veneration. Never [...]hinke more of the Faecunditie of Vedlocke, since you see here that God himselfe is the fruit of Virginity. [...]ou who have tyed your selves in ho­ly bonds, from which you wish never [...]ut by death to be freed, who have [...]hose rather lawfully to yeeld to the [...]bellious desires of the flesh, than un­ [...]fully to subdue them: you who in sdelity and simplicity of life have [...]ictly imitated Christ and his spouse: you whose Fertility is blessed, [...]onely in preserving and propaga­ing the humane Race, but in augmen­ing also the number of the Saints in heaven, to you a free and open accesse given. You widdowed Turtles, [...]ho have lost your Mates, and either [...]ve vowed never to match againe, [...]pray'd to God that when you doe, it [Page 150]may be to his glory; you also shall have admittance. Virgins, Wives, and Widdowes, ioyne hands, and en­circle this the most perfect paire that ever graced the earth: Behold to your astonishment, and also to your consola­tion a milde and gentle Maide, in whom neither Childe-birth defaceth Virginity, nor Virginity fruitfulnesse. Feed your eyes with the [...]ght of her whose minde is a Paradice without a Serpent, on whose lookes, words, and actions, Modesty is a diligent atten­der. And now in Feace doe you depart too, but take this charitable Admoni­tion along w [...]th you, that (in emula­tion of this your dearest Mistresse) you lay up all her graces and perfecti­ons in your hearts, and withall conti­nually meditate her patience, which contented it selfe with bad lodging, and worse accommodation, the sad [Page 151] [...]emembrance whereof hath made me [...]ser since I read this passage, not to [...]e very solicitous where, or how I [...]e.

Her Pu­rificati­on.Having waited on her in her De­livery, we will now attend her to her Purification. This day (the celebration whereof is instituted by the Church) is called Candle­masse, as much as to say, the Day of Lights, on which (while Masse was singing) very many Tapours were burning in the Church. The Lustration of houses was yearely usuall with the Romans in the mo­neth of February, from whence this custome in the Church is de­rived. Innocentius thus propounds and solves the Question.In serm. de Purif. B. Mar. Virg. What is the reason, saith he, that on this Holy day we use so many Lights in the Church? The cause of this institution is two-fold. The first is, that a Heathe­nish custome may be converted into a Christian Right or Ordinance, and [Page 154]that which was performed by supersti­tious Idolaters in honour of Ceres and Proserpina, may be turned into the praise and glory of the Virgin Mary. The second is, that they who by Grace are purified, by this Ceremo­ny may be admonished to imitate those prudent Virgins, who (as the Evangelicall Parable testifieth) came not without their Tapours lighted to the Nuptials of Christ their Spouse. This day the Church used to pray, that as the visible Lights chased away the darkenesse of the night: so the hearts of the Faith­full might be illuminated by the Invisible flames of the holy Spirit, & (being cured of their blindnesse brought upon them by vice) might with pure and cleare eyes discerne those things which are pleasing to God, and necessary to their salva­tion; [Page 155]and having pass'd through the sad, darke, and dismall acci­dents of this world, might at length arrive at Heaven, where they shall behold, and enjoy a Light everlasting. This day is not onely made Holy by the Purifica­tion of the Mother, but by the ob­lation also and presentation of the Sonne, of whom, as of the more worthy, we must first discourse.

It was truely a great abasing of the Sonne of God (for which by the Prophets he was styled a Ser­vant) who being not a debtor to the Law, but the Lord of it, and the onely First-borne free from sinne, yet endured and under­went with other Children, both the Iewish Circumcision and ob­lation, and at once publikely ho­nour'd [Page 156]nour'd his Fathers house, and (to use the Prophets phrase) fill'd it with glory. There offer'd by the Virgin hands of his Mother, he was to his Father a most pleasing oblation, being the end of the Law, and all the antient Sacrifices. Neither was the longing of Sime­on and Anna onely satisfied with his aspect, but the ardent wishes also of many others, in whose mindes the old sparke of Faith now burst out into new and bright flames, which did not onely illu­minate their owne, but other Bo­somes also. Not a few, question­lesse, at Hierusalem, markt this day with a white stone, and did cele­brate it with joy and thankesgi­ving, in that the Light foretold by Esay then arose, and comforted all those to whom the shine and [Page 157]warmth of it extended. Israel had never seene her Messias, till then when she had free leave to kisse, embrace, and dandle him in her Armes, and therefore her joy must of necessity be more than or­dinary. Yet some of her inhabi­tants were deafe, and could not heare the Prophets proclaime his comming; others were blinde, and could not discerne him being come, nor were sensible at all of the Honour they received in the venerable presence of him, and his incomparable Mother.

I now come to our sweetest La­dy, the time of whose Lying in being expired, she fets forward to the Temple. I have read some who poetically set downe her going thither, and compare her to [Page 158] Aurora, whom the Poets describe sitting in a golden Chariot drawn by a Pegasus, her yellow haire spred over her milky shoulders, with a Torch in her hand enlight­ning this inferiour world. For my owne part (though of all humane studies I am most taken with Poe­sy yet both by Nature and Grace I abhorre to write of things divine in the stile of the stage. But this Religion and modesty will license me to averre, That when she went to be Purified, she was in all things the very figure and resemblance of Sanctity it selfe. No doubt but she was accompanied with a Bea­vy of Shee-Saints, of which she was the Chorus. Neither was Io­seph absent, who as before he had beene a guardiant of her, and her Infant in her Delivery when he [Page 159]was not capable of the Miracle; So now he is altogether incapable of his owne Felicity in attending his fairest Mate, and dearest Ma­ster to the holy Temple. And who doubts but this blessed one ioy'd more in this Iourney than Ioseph or any other. Saint Iohn and Saint Luke testifie that it was a re­ligious custome amongst the very Heathen from remote pleace to come to Hierusalem, Iohn 12. Acts 2.8 and in the Temple thereof to performe their devotions. Doe you thinke this pious Maide can be out-strip­ped in the performance of a holy duty by the Gentiles? Can you imagine she could neglect and loose the occasion of time and place offered her, to commend to her Maker in her best words the vowes and prayers of her prepa­red [Page 160]heart? She came to Hierusa­lem (for certainly she dwelt not there) with farre greater speed and joy, questionlesse, than to her Counsins house, this being a busi­nesse that much more concern'd her, in that she was by more and stronger tyes bound to serve God than Elizabeth. And here by the way we must not omit her Humi­lity and Charity.Her Humili­ty. Of the first whereof we have a cleere demon­stration in this, That what other women did out of feare of the Law, she was perswaded by a perfect faith, and an humble obedience to performe. For that her Purification was necessary, I beleeve no man will affirme, un­lesse in this sense, That the Rites and Ceremonies imposed on the purified by Moses, were with [Page 161]decency to be observed by her who had borne him that came to fulfill, not to destroy the Law. She could not be maculated in conceiving, because she knew no man, nor in bearing, by reason it was without a man. Why should she be solicitous to redeeme her Sonne, who was himselfe the Re­deemer of the world? This was assuredly an act produced by her Humility, as was also her refusing the company of the rich, and her associating the poore and needy,Her charity. though most impure, and abject. And she her selfe was so penuri­ous, that she had not wherewith­all to buy a Lambe, whereof to make oblation. Whereas the Rich hide and hourd up their wealth, she drawes forth theThis is the ob­servati­on of Dammi­anus, Dam­mascen, & many more. Treasure brought her by the Wise men, [Page 162]and with alacrity distributes it a­mongst those whose wants requi­red it: yet was part of the present gold, which upon charitable uses surely was consumed; for her Frugality and Temperancy were such, that in so short a time she could not possibly have spent the value of it. But these perfections are not to be wondred at in her, who being a Doctresse, scorn'd not to be a Disciple, and strongly to endeavour the attaining even to those vertues which by Nature were innate, and by Grace engraf­ted in her. Ravisht in soule with these her Excellencies, me thinkes I see her Majestically pacing on to the Temple, and heare her thus speake to those who accompanied and met her on the way.

My deare friends, Sisters, and fel­low servants, I have ever desir'd and endeavour'd (as neare as Humane frailtie will give me leave) to imitate my sweetest Sonne, whose profound Humility and perfect obedience can never sufficiently be extolled. Full well he knew Humility to make the first step to eternall life; Obedience the second; the former of which to teach all men he descended from Heaven, the latter to demonstrate, he became obedient to his Father, even to the suffering of the cursed death of the Crosse. Would you see me a Proficient in both these supernaturall vertues? Behold me who am unpolluted, (as not having conceived by humane meanes) going like one vitious, and impure to be purified. I who am free from the observation of the Mosaicall [Page 164]Lawes and Ceremonies, have subje­cted my selfe to them. I who am voyd of all wilfull sinne, willingly goe a­mongst other sinfull and uncleane wo­men, that I may be to all an Example of Charity and Humility, to none a president of ruine. I thought it not e­nough that my fruitfull V [...]rginity had produced Salvation to the world, un­lesse by Example also I taught how this Grace (applicable to all, applied but to a few) by you also might be ob­ta [...]ned. This is my way to the attaine­ment of celestiall glory, and let it be yours to purchase your selves eternall salvation. Doe thus, live thus, that you may shine holy Tapers in Gods m [...]lita [...] Church, and glorious Stars in his Triumphant.

She with her devout traine be­ing come unto the Temple offer'd [Page 165]her gift to the Priest, and received a propheticke Benediction from Symeon. Whether this old man were a Priest, or a Layman, I will not here dispute; certainly he was a man blessed above all the Patri­archs and Prophets, in that he saw God face to face, and may be sty­led the most profound of all Di­vines,Timoth. presb. iero­sol. in orat. de Prophe­ta Sime­one. who (being the last just man of the Law, the first of Grace, a lew by Religion, in Thanksgiving a Christian) comprehended so many Mysteries in so few words. This holy Man (the Scribes and Pharisees dreaming on [...]o such matter) had long since seene his Saviour comming, whom he no sooner saw borne into the Tem­ple by his mother (who then re­semble Modesty supporting san­ctity) but he snatcht this pre [...]ti [...] [Page 166]Babe out of her Armes into his owne, and not able to containe his joy, in a divine Rapture Swanne­like (his death being then at hand) sung this his sweetest Ditty. Lord now lettest thou thy Servant depart in Peace: for mine eyes have seene thy Salvation, which thou hast prepared before the face of all Nations, a Light to lighten the Gentiles, and to the glo­ry of thy people Israel. And he bles­sed them, and said unto Mary his mother, Behold this Childe is appoint­ed for the fall and rising againe of many in Israel, and for a signe which shall be spoken against, yea and a sword shall passe through thy Soule, that the thoughts of many hearts may be opened. And Anna a Prophetesse confessed the same to all those who looked for the Redemption of Israel. Luke 2. If the viewing and embracing of [Page 167]Christ so dilated the spirits of the old mans heart, and made him so sensible of this his great felicitie, that he would expect here no greater, but desired rather a disso­lution then the fruition of any thing else on earth, What may we judge her content to be, who con­ceiv'd, bore, brought forth, and brought him up? Whose affectio­nate looks, kisses, and embraces he had by day, the two later of which the night it selfe could not barre him of. Her greatest detracters surely cannot imagine her so stu­pid as not to be apprehensive of the delight, the Comfort, the hap­pinesse, the honour his presence did impart, nor so unthankfull as not to acknowledge, and to her power expresse her gratitude. Certainly her soule was in a hea­venly [Page 168]Trance when she contem­plated the grace and felicity she had in Gods owne house, and be­fore an Assembly of his elected people to acknowledge her grati­tude for the inestimable benefits he had vouchsafed her, but especi­ally for this, that in his glorious eyes she seem'd worthy (though in her selfe undeserving) in her owne name, and that of his chosen to present him with such a sacri­fice, such a gift as exceedingly sur­passed in excellency, all Hosts, Sacrifices, and Sacraments what­soever, being indeed, their onely scope and end. Anna the Mother of Samuel is praised for her dili­gence in Prayer, the fruit where­of she reaped in her dispair'd of Fertility. And of our admired Virgin, we reade that she careful­ly [Page 169]frequented the Temple, of which (being wise) she knew the institution, and (being pious) the custome, which she most religi­ously observed. Wherefore this day of her Purification, and at all times else, without all peradven­ture, she much excelled Anna, and her whole sexe in the fervency of her Orisons, in the ardency of her love, in purity, and sublimity of minde, in holinesse of life, and di­vine contemplation. We may boldly conclude that she pour'd out her prayers here in greater a­bundance than she did in Zacharies house, where she could not sup­presse the flame of her zeale from breaking out into the praise of God her Saviour, in whom she rejoyced. To this effect, happily, here she pray'd.

O eternall and gracious God! I am below other women in merit, but a­bove them all indebted to thy supreme Maiesty, for making me the Taber­nacle of thy onely Sonne, the Temple of thy Spirit, and for this speciall ho­nour done mee in the Temple of thy Service, the congregation whereof makes me the onely point wherein the lines of their affection, and admira­tion doe meete. If women be respected for their fertillity, needs must I be in great esteeme with all men, who (by thy eternall Predestination, and fa­therly providence) have brought forth thy onely Sonne, their Redee­mer. With a bowed heart, and ben­ded knees I acknowledge that thou hast faithfully and mercifully fulfilled all those thy favourable promises made me by thy Angell Gabriel, my [Page 171]Cousin Elizabeth, and thy holy Pro­lets. Thou who can'st neither de­ [...]eive, nor be deceived, hast made me the vertue of thy Spirit operating) Mother, my virginall integrity still [...]eserved. That long long'd for E­manuel, (than whom nothing grea­ [...]r, or better could be given by thee, [...] taken my me) I have at length pro­ [...]c'd to save all those that beleeve in him. This magnificent immense, in­ [...]haustible, unvaluable Treasure, [...]his beloved Sonne of thine in whom thou art well pleased; This Saint of Saints, by whom all things in Hea­ven and Earth, are re-establisht, this Saviour of the world I here present to thee, as a gift most acceptable in thy sight. He whom all Nations, and the Fathers themselves have so much thirsted to see: The Angell of the new Testament, the seed of Abraham, [Page 172] the sonne of David, the King of Is­rael, in whom all generations are blessed, the Lord of the Temple is here come to illustrate his owne house. O mercifull Father! open the eyes of the dimme sighted Israelites, that they may see the glorious Light that now shines on them, and not onely ac­knowledge, but worship their Messias, and imbrace him in their hearts, as I doe in mine Armes. Neither let the Rayes of this new borne starre reflect onely on them, but on all those also, who sit in darkenesse, and the shadow of death, that to them it may restore life and lustre. So shall they acknow­ledge thee, and him whom thou hast sent, CHRIST IESVS, and be made spirituall dwellings for thee to reside in, there to rece [...]ve due thankes and praise for ever and ever.

Betweene her Purification, and passion of her Sonne, she is not of­ [...] mentioned in holy Writ, but [...]en she is, it is still to her praise [...]d honour: As when her care for [...]e poor made her petition Christ [...] Wine to revive,Her charity. and refresh [...]eir drooping, fainting Spirits; [...]nd when she said to him, Why [...]ve you us'd us thus your Father [...]d I have beene to seeke you. Whence all women may learne [...]umility, motherly care, and con­ [...]gall Faith. She who was without [...]emish, as being Gods owne Mo­ [...]her, whose chaste bosome no car­ [...]all thought had ever entred, who [...]ookt on all men with the same in­ [...]ocency & simplicity with which the beheld Statues, deigned to call apoor rustical labouring man Hus­band, [Page 147]from whose deare compa­ny, no flight,Her mo­therly care, to­gether with her coningal Faith and obe­dience. terrour, travaile, no [...] paines could separate her. B [...] what the Scripture omitteth, m [...] be supplied by our charitable ima­gination, which cannot but co [...] ­ceive all those her Actions burie [...] in silence, to have beene of th [...] same pure thred with the rest o [...] her life. The truth of which w [...] finde confirm'd in her perseve­rance in goodnesse, even to he [...] sonnes end, and her ow ne.

Her de­meanour at her Sonnes death. At his death wee reade she was pr [...] ­sent, and there stood (saith the Eva [...] ­gelist) by the Crosse of Christ his No [...] ­ther and her Sister Mary Cleopho [...] and Mary Magdalen. When there­fore Iesus saw his Mother, and his be­loved Disciple standing by, he said [...] his Mother, Woman, behold thy So [...] [Page 175]and he said to his Disciple, Behold thy Mother, and from that time he tooke her for his. His pardoning of the Thiefe is not a greater argument of his Mercy, than his taking care for his Mother was of his Piety. He gives Temperancy the custo­dy of Chastity, and commends these to each other who were re­solved to live and dye Virgins. Saint Bernard sayes these words of Christ to his Mother, included much bitternesse, for they put her in minde that she was to make a dammageable exchange of Christ for Iohn, of the Servant for his Lord, of the Disciple for his Ma­ster, of the Sonne of God, for the sonne of Zebedaeus. And this was the reason (if we give beliefe to Mantuan) that he called her Wo­man, not Mother, lest the very [Page 176]sound of that deare word should make her more sensible of his ap­proaching losse, and force her into an immoderate griefe. But sorrow was no Noveltie to her for that saying of Christ, In this world, you shall have affliction, was in her ve­rified, whose life contained more miseries then minuts, which she patiently underwent, knowing that the more distressed she was here, the more blessed she should be he reafter. And if we shall adde the light of Reason to the Evange­licall Truth, we shall soone per­ceive that a fatall sadnesse haunted her from the birth of her onely Sonne to his buriall. When she was great with him, and readie to lye downe, the inhumanity of the Bethlemites was such, that they confined her, and the Lord of all [Page 177]things to a Stable, and would not supply her with as much as Lin­nen; a Mantle, and other necessa­ries wherewithall she might de­fend her selfe, and her sweet Babe from the moysture of the night, the sharpenesse of the winter, and other intollerable inconveniences. When her Childe was eight daies old, she saw him loose bloud in his Circumcision, which her divi­ning soule misgave her to be a Type of the deare remainder he was to shed. Then againe her minde was infinitely vexed for the butchery of those guiltlesse Children which were murthered for the sake of her owne innocent Infant; of the sorrow and mise­rie of whose Mothers, her tender compassionating heart was a most competent Iudge. From this [Page 178]bloudy Massacre to save her Saviour, she was con­strained (without taking leave of her friends, or dis­posing of what was hers) to take her flight with him, & through danger,Vernulaeus saies that those who flye from danger, travaile most by night, and there­fore it is likely our blessed Lady did so. dark­nesse, and horrour, to make her way into Aegypt. When he was twelve yeeres old, she lost him, an Accident more grie­vous than any of the for­mer; for heretofore her study had been to preserve what she had, now her care was to finde what she had not. What an Agony her soule suffer'd at the lamen­table tydings of the behea­ding of her Sonnes Fore­runner, I leave to the con­sideration [Page 179]of all thankefull soules; for she could not without being stayned with ingratitude, but mourne for his absence and vio­lent departure out of the world, who had received so much joy at her presence before he came into it. But above all these, the une­quall'd Treacherie of Iudas, who deliver'd this Lambe of God, as a prey to these Wolves; the infide­lity of his other Disciples, the malignity of his Iudges, the cru­celty of his Executioners conspir'd to make her miserable. Nor is it unlikely that she bewailed the in­gratitude, the obstinacy and im­piety of her Nation, who revil'd him that blessed them, and tor­tur'd him who came to save them. With what amazement and sad­nesse was her heart surprised think [Page 180]ye, when the newes came of her Sonnes being apprehended? But when she saw him forsaken by his friends, bound by his enemies, ac­cused before the high Priests, de­rided by Herod, despis'd by the people; scourg'd, and tortur'd by the command of Pilate, his body trembling, torne, and pierced, be­smear'd with his owne bloud, and hung between two Theeves; then, and never till then did the Sword foretold by Simeon, passe through her Soule. Luther saies this Pro­phecy of Simcon was spoken to her, not to Ioseph, for on her alone the whole weight of sorrow was to be laid. True it is that many dif­fer about the interpretation of this Sword. To cleare all doubts, we must take notice that the holy Scriptures mention foure sorts of Swords.

The first is a Corporall, or ma­teriall sword, and of this Christ speakes to Peter, All that use the Sword, shall perish with the Sword.

The second is a spirituall Sword, of which Saint Paul makes mention, when he saies, Receive the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

The third is a Sword of Scan­dall or Ambiguity, with which the Apostles themselves were strucken, when they forsooke their Master.

The fourth is the Sword of Griefe or Tribulation.Psal. 33. Ps. 105. Gen. 37. With this the Prophet David averres the Soule of Ioseph to have beene [Page 182]pierc'd when his death was plot­ted first by his trecherous Bro­thers, next by his incontinent Mistresse.

That this Sword whereof Sime­on Prophecied, could be no mate­riall one, is evident, in that we read not of any violent death she suffered. That it could not be the sword of the Spirit, is manifest; for the word of God was her dai­ly delitious food at the same time when Simeon made this Prophe­cy. Origen indeed will have it to be the sword of Ambiguity or In­fidelity: which erroneous opinion of his, is refuted by many great Fathers of the antient Church, and by Franciscus Lumbertus, an accute Protestant Doctor of the moderne in these words.In expo­sit. E­vang. Lucae cap. 2. Those, [Page 183]saith he, who will have this to be the sword of Infidelity, are not to be hear­kened to; for (besides that they can produce no proofe of this their opinion) it is contradictory to the Text, most rash, and most untrue. How can it be that the sword of Infidelity should pe­netrate the brest of Gods sacred Mo­ther, into which, infidelity never made the least impression? From the leginning, her Faith was most firme and intire. Let therefore those Blas­phemies and wicked slanders of ca­nall men be put to silence. I will attri­bute nothing to the blessed Virgin, but what I reade in the holy Writ, where she is pronounced blessed, because shee beleev'd. We have many testimonies of her Faith, but of her Infidelity not one word is extant in the sacred Scrip­tures. Yet this prophane assertion is not a whit strange, or to be [Page 184]marvelled at in Origen, who held that Christ dyed for the Angels, and the Starres, and whose soule was, indeed, no other than a Mynt of Heresies.Her passive For­titude, and Pati­ence at the Death of her Sonne. Melan. in cap. 27. Matth. Me­lancton affirmes, that her sorrow was much asswa­ged by her faith, which assured her of his Resurre­ction. She knew she had borne the Messias, whose bloud was to wash away the sinnes of the world. Wherefore she might well be amaz'd, distrustfull she could not be at all. The holy Spirit certified her this was not a destroying death, but a triumphing. Her Faith, the oftner it was tryed in the furnace of [Page 185]affliction, the brighter still it shew­ed. She stood with the affection of a Mother, the passion of a wo­man, but with the constancy and fortitude of a man, in beholding her owne bloud spilt, her owne flesh rent, and mangled before her face. With an unshaken confi­dence, and a true internall valour, she beheld his body naked, and scourg'd, his hands and feet nailed to the Crosse: yet sometimes the strings of her relenting, mourne­full heart were ready to cracke with the very thought of his cru­ell tortures and afflictions; but as often againe they were strengthe­ned and comforted with a full as­surance that he should overcome them all, and death it selfe. She stood here (her Sonne onely ex­cepted) the prime patterne of a [Page 186]sollid Faith, and constant Patience to all posteritie, in that neither the feare of Tribulation, of persecuti­on, of the wracke, of the scourge, or death it selfe could divide her from her Christ. She committed not that errour most incident to women, many of which gentle sexe perish in the midst of their Lamentations, and will neither admit of Counsell, nor Comfort. She did not teare her haire, scratch her face, batter her bosome, seeke to stifle her selfe, or gave any o­ther desperate signe of a ragefull sorrow, nor did she curse her ene­mies, or make imprecations for Vengeance, or so much as mur­mur against them; but attended the sad event with the same calme­nesse of minde with which this meeke Lambe did his end. Her [Page 187]arriage was beyond the Levell of Censure, and in all things sutable [...]o the modesty and gravity of such a Matron. She fear'd not at all the fury of the Iewish Souldi­diers that environ'd her, but stood lecure, and fac'd danger. Though she was an eye witnesse of his pas­sion, and saw his Limbs disten­ded, and wrack'd, yet did not the evils she saw, wound her so deep as those she heard. The Roman Fencers used to have Wards, or Covers to save their Eares: She had greater need of such to barre the entrance of blasphemies able to provoke God (if his mercies were not above all his workes) ut­terly to deface Nature, and reduce the world to its first Chaos. She heard him call'd a Drunkard, a Blasphemer, a breaker of the Sab­both, [Page 188]both, a lover of Publicans and Sinners, nay a very Divell; who was her and Gods onely delight. Yet did not all these killing ob­jects, these impious slanders, drive her into the mercilesse gripes of despaire; for she was confident that the two persons of the Trini­ty would not forsake the third.Melan. in loco praedic. Melancton commending this dis­mall story to our sad and serious contemplation, adviseth us, That when Tribulations and Death it selfe come upon us, we should imi­tate this holy Virgin, who mixed a heart killing sorrow for his death with a joyfull assurance of his Resurrection. Consider, saith he, what a Conflict the Faith of Mary had. There was in her an extreme griefe linked with Faith and Hope. Let us in our death thus comfort our [Page 189] [...]elves, and harbour the same [...]houghts with Mary, still fix­ [...]ng on God the Eyes of our Faith. And verily we must [...]eleeve that no small mea­sure of Beliefe was requi­red to temper and asswage [...]o great aSophronius. ser. de Assump. Bea­tae Virg. main­tains that she suf­fered more than all the Martyrs, in that the passion of the minde is greater than that of the body, and shee in soule felt most, because her love to him was above all others. sorrow. If we [...]onceive that she was so without bowels, as not to grieve for the death and passion of her dearest, and onely Sonne: we must withall beleeve with the Maniches, that he had a phantasticke body, not made of his Mothers flesh. No doubt, when (after man had left, and betray'd him) she heard him cry out that God himselfe had forsaken him also, her [Page 190]teares, her sighes, her groanes, her countenance, her very posture, her dole­full voyce, all united their forces to expresse the greatnesse of her sorrow. Listen and you shall heare her thus lament.

O my dearest Sonne, Her Lamentati­on is also expres­sed by S. Bernard, Serm. qui incipit, Signum mag­num. that thou who healest others, shouldst thy selfe be wounded! That thou who freest others, shouldst thy selfe be bound! That thou who art the Foun­taine of Life, and Creator of the waters, shouldst thy selfe be thirsty! That thou who cloathest all things, shouldest thy selfe stand naked! O my dearest Master, how hast thou trespassed against this obdu­rate [Page 191]Nation! that it should so thirst after thy pretious bloud? Thou woul­dest have cover'd them under the wings of thy gratious Providence, as Henne doth her Chickens, but they those rather to perish, than to come thither for shelter. With them the lead are more sensible of thy passion, than the living, and their devouring Sepulchers more mercifull then they themselves. O my Sonne, my Sonne, that I should see thee suffer, and not be able to succour thee! O that I were an oblation as spotlesse, and as grati­ [...]us in thy Fathers sight, as thou thy selfe, that all thy afflictions, all thy torments might be mine. Were my power correspondent to my will, I would rescue thee from Legions of thy enemies. But alas I am a weake wo­man, and all my strength lyes in my tongue, which will onely serve mee [Page 192]to deplore thy losse, and that I truely doe from the very bottome of my heart.

Thus, or to this purpose, que­stionlesse she bewail'd him dying; but when she once beheld him dead (Love and Beauty being ba­nisht that face) and saw withall their malitious cruelty survive him, when she view'd his very carkasse pierc't, and water toge­ther with bloud flowing thence, when she had leisure to imbrace his dead body, to number his wounds, to kisse them, and to Es­say with the holy water of her eyes to wash away his stripes: she then was so wholly oppressed with anguish of soule, that she ar­dently at that instant desired her soule, if possibly, might transmi­grate [Page 193]out of her living body, into his dead one. True it is that many affirme she felt not those torments which other women endure in Child-birth, who are liable to the malediction laid upon Eve: But if at his comming into the world, she was not sensible of any paine at all, certainely at his going out, the griefes of all women contra­cted into one, equals nothers a­lone. And assuredly her sorrow was much increased when she saw Mary Magdalen, and the other wo­men so vehemently to grieve, whom his death not so nearly con­cern'd as it did her, nor were they so able as she to judge of his value. Then questionlesse in this, or the like phrase she renewed, and re­doubled her complaints.

O my sweetest Sonne! I bewaile mine owne, and the wretched condi­tion of all those, whose soules thou hast feasted so many yeares with thy mel­lifluous Language. My griefe is an­swer able to my affection. If Samuel lamented the death of a reprobate King, if David wept over wicked Absolon with this exclamation, Ab­solon my Sonne, O my Sonne Absolon; can my teares be too prodi­gally powr'd upon thee, who art Sonne to me, and Righteousnesse it selfe? Who shall forbid or hinder me for cry­ing out, Iesus my sweet Sonne, O my sweet Sonne Iesus? If thou didst weepe over Ierusalem, as la­menting her destruction then at hand, shall I not bewaile thy neere approach­ing end? Thou didst then compassio­nate the future Ruine of those very [Page 195]stones, which now with a silent grati­ [...]de seeme to condole, and weepe for [...]hee. When thou cam'st to the Tombe [...]f Lazarus, thou wert so farre from [...]prehending the teares of others, that [...]hou wepst thy selfe for company. Thy [...]ne example then warrants the just­ [...]sse of my griefe; for when thou wert [...]wing, the small paine thou felt'st in [...] sleeping of thy foot was, and ought [...] be more to mee, than the eternall [...]epe of Lazarus could be to thee. and as thy teares for him weretokens [...] thy humane nature, not signes of by diffidence (in that thou knew'st [...] would forthwith arise) so are mine [...] thee, witnesses of my wretched e­late, not of my distrust, who am as­ [...]red of thy speedy resurrection. Nor be I onely grieve my owne griefe for [...] for mans sake, I rejoyce in thy Fa­thers Grace, who delivers thee to [Page 196]death, and in thy Charity who dost suffer it: So likewise in mans behalfe I am griev'd that he should be the cursed cause of those thy extreme torments: for as not to joy in the benefits thy death hath brought with it, would argue his ingratitude, so not to con­dole for the tortures that at­tend it, would demonstrate his cruelty. And here I faith­fully promise thee, that both I, while life, and thy Church, while the world doth last, shall yearely spend this dole­full * time of thy Tragicall expiration in Prayer, S. Bernard cals this Hebdoma­dam poenosam, the weeke of pen­nance; and the high Dutch, Die Martyr Wock­en, the Martyrs weeke. fasting, severity, of discipline, mace­ration of the flesh, and con­trition of the spirit, as becomes thy mournefull Mother, and [Page 197] [...]y gratefull Spouse to doe.

Thus condoling, thus bemoa­ [...]ing hers, and the generall losse, [...]e attended his herse to the Se­ [...]lchre provided by Ioseph, where [...]ever man was laid before; for it [...]as not fit that Incorruptibility [...]ould succeed corruption in the [...]me lodging. This fragrant [...]lower was no sooner set in the [...]ound, but she sent many a deare [...]op after it to fasten it at the [...]oot; for she knew within three [...]ayes it should spring up againe, [...]ot to grow in the earth, but to be [...]anslated into Heaven, there for [...]ver to flourish, and perfume the [...]elestiall habitation. Nor were [...]er eyes, saith Damascen, closed with his Monument, but watched [...]hemselves almost blinde with a [Page 198]greedy expectation to see the tem­ple of his body built up againe, which three dayes since was de­stroyed. After many a longing looke she espied the Tombe to o­pen, and her onely joy to issue forth, whom full well she knew by the countenance and figure of his Humanity, but farre better by the cleere proofes of his Godhead; for the Graves delivered up their dead, many of which ap­pear'd to their friends in the holy City. Some, and those of great authority in the Church affirme; that after his Resurrection, she of all others saw him first, and wher­as the Scripture seemeth to inferre that Mary Magdalen first beheld him, they thus expound it, That the Evangelists would not make his Mother the first witnesse of his [Page 199]Resurrection (though indeed she was) knowing that her testimony by the Iewes would be more sus­pected than that of Mary Magda­len. I dare not positively conclude any thing herein, but I may safely maintaine that this her delight for his Resurrection, counterpois'd her griefe conceived for his death. In her was now made good that of the Psalmist; According to the multitude of the griefes of my heart thy Comforts have rejoyced my soule, and that of her Sonne, Blessed are they that mourne, for they shall bee comforted.

And who makes question but that she who with such unuttera­ble pleasure discover'd his Resur­rection faithfully, and closely wai­ted on him, till his Ascention▪ [Page 200]She who was as inseparable to him as his shadow, without doubt, was on the MountEpi­phanius contra haeres. & libel. Aetij. Olivet, with other of the faithfull, when in the sight of them all he ascended. She heard, doubtlesse, his last words, received his last benediction, and her sight waited on him till the clowds imbrac't him, which it in vaine essay'd to penetrate. What Soule not it selfe transported with the view of a heavenly object, can suppose, much lesse expresse what her contentment was when she saw her owne flesh flye above the reach of Envie, into the Armes of Glory? When she beheld this high Priest, (his Sacrifice ended, and God fully appeas'd) enter Heaven there to sit on the right hand of his Father, and to be the uncessant and eternall Mediatour [Page 201]betwixt him and man? With ben­ded knees, erected hands, and eyes, she worships him ascending, and when her sight failes, her ado­ration continues. Her zeale pas­seth all the orbes betweene him, and her with greater facility, and subtility then the Lightning shoo­teth through the Ayre. Great is the vigour and force of the Spirit, when all things else set apart it is wholly intentive on the Meditati­on of its Creatour. When by con­templation it is separated from the body, it thinkes onely on him, lives onely to him, and is (as it were drown'd) in an inundation of his love. When it hath extin­guisht the scorching lawlesse de­sires of the flesh, and kindled the holy ones of the Spirit; the body rebels no longer, but becomes [Page 202]obedient to it in all things. When it hath once fixed its eyes on this beloved object, it never removeth them thence. When it is once il­luminated with the beames of the holy Ghost, it is presently turn'd into all Eye, all Spirit, all Light, no otherwise than those things the fire once layes hold on, are turn'd into fire it selfe. Of those who live in Wedlocke, it is said that they are two in one flesh; and why may it not be said of Christ and the Soule wedded to him, that they are two in one Spirit? And if ever it might be reported of any, surely of this Holy Vir­gin, who (though she was devided from her Redeemer in Body) yet in soule she was united to him. When her eyes were growne dimme with her so long dwelling [Page 203]on that part of Heaven where they left, and lost him, she cast them downe on the earth, the poverty whereof she commiserated in that it was deprived of this one Iewell, in value above all it had left. And now She returnes into the holy City not disconsolate, and deje­cted as other women are when they lose their onely childe; but with a cheerfull look for her Sons victory, who had triumphed not onely over the Iew, but death and hell it selfe. She made her will lacky Gods, and though she desi­red to be dissolved, and be with Christ, yet since it was his best pleasure she should continue lon­ger here below, she readily assen­ted, resolving by her example on earth, to furnish heaven with Saints. Dammianus sayes, that [Page 204]after her Sonnes decease, she re­mained ten daies in Prayer and Fasting, expecting with a fervent longing, the promised comming of the Spirit. Saint Luke witnes­seth that sixe score men and wo­men were assembled in one rome, and joyned in hearty prayer, of the which, Mary the Mother of IESUS was one. And as he names her last, so her wonted Hu­mility perswades me that she had the last, andS. Bern­lard. In serm. de [...]erb. Apoca­lyp. Signum nagnū. lowest place, and sate beneath the other sinfull wo­men of inferiour quality, in re­membrance of her humble Lord now exalted. And it is more than probable that she was present with the Apostles, when the Holy Ghost came upon them, and that she there received the first fruits of the Spirit. After which time [Page 205]we reade no more of her in holy Writ. For where, and with whom, how strictly, and how pi­ously she liv'd after the Ascention of Christ,Serm. 5. de As­sump. Virg. till the houre of her death, saith Idelphonius, is onely knowne to God the searcher of hearts, and to the Angels her dili­gent Visiters. The reason which many alledge why neither the rest of her life, nor death are pen­ned by the holy Evangelists is this, that the Apostles were so bu­sied about the conversion of the Iewes and the Gentiles, & enlarg­ing of the Christian Church, That they had no time to set downe the particular Acts of her life after her Sonnes Ascention, nor the severall Circumstances of her death, as where, when, and how she dyed. Some Authours peremptorily [Page 206]maintaine (upon what ground I know not) that she liv'd to her sea­ventieth yeare, and to her last houre dwelt in Ierusalem, neare to her Sonnes Sepulchre.Damas­cen. ser. de dor­mit. Virg. Others up­on no better warrant averre that she went with Iohn into Asia, and continued with him at Ephesus till her death, and urge the autho­rity of Ignatius, who affirmes that she wrote to him in these words, I will come with Iohn to see thee, and thy friends, &c. Concerning her death, Some avouch that the A­postles, and the most eminent of the Primitive Church, were pre­sent at it.Serm, de dormit. Virg. Damascen saith that Christ was also there in person, and that he thus spake to her: Come my blessed Mother into the rest I have prepar'd for thee, and that shee thus in way of answer prayed to him: Into [Page 207]thy hands, O my Sonne, I commend my Spirit: Receive that deare Soule which thou hast preserved free from all rebuke. As I will not justifie all these their Assertions for true, so on the other side I will not con­demne them as erroneous, not be­ing able to convince them of un­truth, and for ought I know, they may have pass'd by unwritten Tradition from man to man. I will therefore affirmatively say nothing but this, that most assu­redly her death was welcome to her, in that she had so often both meditated and practised it, having many times by austerity, and con­templation, departed this life ere she left it. If that of Seneca be true, that to dye well, is to dye willing­ly, then certainly she dyed the death of the Righteous. She was [Page 208]not ignorant that Death to the just is no other than a delivery from prison, a laying downe of a bur­then, the end of a Pilgrimage, the unmanacling of the Soule, the discharging of a due debt to Na­ture, the returne into our true Country, the dore that opens in­to a never fading life, the entrance into the celestiall Kingdome, and the Vsher that was to conduct her to her blessed Saviour, with whom she had mentally conver­sed ever since he left the earth: Since which time there be who avouch that she never willingly saw any man.

Her assump­tion.The same modesty I have shew'd in treating of her death, I shall reserve in discoursing of her Assumption, which by many of the Fathers, all of the Romish Church, and some of the Refor­med is held for an undoubted truth, though upon no sounder proofes than the former produce concerning her departure hence. Bullinger directly backs this opini­on.Lib. de origine erroris, cap. 16. We doe beleeve, saith he, that the wombe of the God-bearing Virgin, and the Temple of the holy Ghost, that is, her sacred body, to have beene as­sumed into heaven. Brentius leaves it indifferent to us to beleeve whe­ther or no she ascended in Soule, in body, or both. It might well be, saith he, that as Enoch was transla­ted in body into heaven, and as many bodies of the Saints did rise with [Page 211]Christ; Homil. 1. in Die Assump. Virgin. See Athanasius on this very point, a Father of great repute, both with the Latines and the Greekes in his serm. in Evang. de sanctissima Deipara. And Iohannes Rivius in his Booke de abusibus Ecclesiae though hee dares not maintaine her corporal Assump­tion, yet hee will not deny it, as be­ing a thing proba­ble enough. So Mary also might in body be assumed into Hea­ven. But most certain it is that she obtained everlasting Feli­city. And some ther be who demand why God might not manifest his power by her, privy to so many di­vine secrets and mysteries, as well as by an Angell, or as by Elias, who after long prayer, was taken up in a Fiery Chariot. Some a­gaine, (who hold that the dead who arose with Christ, ascended with him into Glory, and were not againe reduc't into Ashes) thinke the Assumption of Mary altogether as likely.

Damascen saith, the [Page 212]workes of the Deity are therefore possible, because omnipotent, and that there are some things, which though they are wholly omitted in holy Scriptures, yet upon evi­dent reasons they are believ'd, and exemplifies his position in the Assumption of the Virgin Mary. Dammianus argues thus, That as conceiving without sinne, shee brought forth her Sonne without paine, a curse laid on all other wo­men: so might it well be that she who was without sinne, might o­vercome Death, the reward of it. Some goe about to prove it by the Text,Ps. 131. Arise Lord into thy rest, thou, and the Arke of thy Sanctification. Nay, I have read a moderne Ora­tour, who thus elegantly describes the manner of it: When, saith hee, the Soule of this Sweet one, reactuated [Page 213]her body, she arose in Triumph from her Sepulcher, and was assumed into Heaven. In her passage thither, the orbes bowed and bended themselves to make her a triumphant Arch through which shee might passe in greater state. The Sunne with his brightest beames imbrac't her, that it might be said, A woman was cloath'd with the Sunne. The Moone stooped to her, that it might be divulg'd the Moone was under her feet. The brightest of the Starres in­termove themselves to make her a radiant Crowne, &c. But this de­scription is no more theologicall, than the consent of the orbes is Philosophicall, and is no way correspodent to the dignity of our Sacred subject, on whose tri­umphant entry into Heaven, ha­ving beene a faithfull, and reve­rent [Page 214]Attender, I will now returne to vindicate her honour here on Earth, and make an Apology to Christians (with shame and hor­rour I speake it) for Christs owne Mother.

It may please then the gentle Reader to understand that two questions arise amongst the Mo­derne Divines. The one whether or no she merited to be the Mo­ther of God; the other which way she could deserve that greatest of Glories. For the first, they affirm that never any Creature merited so great a blessing as the incarna­tion of Gods owne Sonne. For he sent, say they, his Sonne into the world, not urg'd thereto by our merits, but out of his owne meere Grace and Goodnesse. It [Page 215]was a worke of his Charity, and condescending, not of retributi­on, or obligation: and therefore that he chose not the Virgin Ma­ry to be the Mother of Christ, as she was a Virgin, humble, obedi­ent, adorn'd with Faith, Charity, and other divine vertues, but be­cause God had decreed her to beare his onely Sonne, therefore his best pleasure was, she should be Mistresse of perfections sute­able to so high a Calling. Wher­fore Saint Paul saies, Because God hath predestinated us, therefore he calles, justifies, and glorifies us, and not because we are just, therefore he electeth us. Againe, they argue thus, that all our me­rits depend on Christ, and are deriv'd from him, and therefore she was without all desert before [Page 216]her Sonne had imparted it to her. That this was well knowne to her, is manifestly proved by her di­vine Hymne, in which she ac­knowledgeth all good to proceed from him, and therefore to him ascribeth all honour and glory. Others her Champions, who cou­ragiously fight, not onely for her heavenly, but earthly triumph, confesse that she was not prefer'd to that supreme dignity by desert, but by Congruity, as they call it: that is, not that she was absolutely worthy of so great a grace, but that since God had fixed a decree to send his dearely beloved Sonne amongst us, she of all others was the fittest to conceive and beare him. But here againe they differ about the way, in that so many waies they hold her capable of [Page 217]this inestimable Diadem. Some give the preheminency to her Vir­ginity, and say, the love of that drew the Sonne out of the bo­some of his Father, into her hal­lowed wombe; and therefore the Text saies not, that a faithfull, an obedient, or an humble shall con­ceive, but a Virgin. Others attri­bute this supreme favour to her Faith, by which (as Saint Paul de­monstrates all the miraculous workes of the old Testament have beene begunne and perfected: Wherefore her Cousin Elizabeth said to her, Blessed art thou, because thou hast beleeved. Some ascribe this infinite honour done her, to her Humility, to which all other vertues flow, no otherwise than the waters naturally runne to the lowest places. This caus'd her to [Page 218]say in her gratefull Hymne, Thou hast regarded the lowlinesse of thy Hand-maid. Others impute the conferring of this greatest blessing on her, to her obedience, in that she committed all to the will of the highest, with this protestation, Behold the Hand-maid of the Lord, be it to mee according to thy Word. Others give her Charity the up­er hand, which as Saint Paul te­stifies, gives life and spirit to all other vertues, they being without it no other than dead Images. Lastly, some there are who will not award the Crowne to this or that peculiar vertue residing in her, but to the united Harmony of them altogether; for they say, it is not this string, or that, makes the Musicke, but the accord, and consent of all. For my owne [Page 219]part, (Divinity not being the spheare wherein my studies move) a modest inquisition will better become me, than a bold and peremptory Conclusion in any point of Controversie. Wher­fore I most humbly submit this, and all things else divine, by me handled, to the Censure and de­termination of the Church of England, whose not Connivence alone, but approbation I know I shall have in boldly affirming that she was a transcendent Creature, not to be ranked in respect of her worth, with any of her sexe, but to have a place assign'd her apart, and above them all; being not to be considered as a meere woman, but as a Type, or an Idaea of an Accomplisht pie­ty. They who uphold the latter [Page 220]of the aforesaid opinions, erre not so much in my judgement, in the adoring extreame, as some too severe maintainers of the for­mer, doe in the neglecting. They are so farre from praising her themselves, that they most unjust­ly deprive her of the praise given her by others. The Puritans in generall, but especially the obsti­nate non-Conformists of this Land, are those I meane, who as in their Course oratory they called Queene ELIZABETH, Queene Besse, So they give this Holy Vir­gin no higher a stile, than ofJ have both heard these ir­reverent speeches, and read them censurd in a Manuscript of a most learned Doctour of the English Church. And this is very credible to al such as heare and per­use their illite­rate Sermons, full of invectives a­gainst the antient Saints, and Fa­thers of the Church, and a­bounding with predications of their owne igno­rant Brethren. Mal, Gods Maide. They reject all Testimonies of her worth, as Haile Mary full of Grace, The Lord is with thee, and, thou hast found grace with God, and, Hee that is mighty, hath magnified mee, and [Page 221] All generations shall call mee Blessed, and, Blessed is the wombe that bore thee, and Blessed are the paps that gave thee sucke, and whence comes this that the Mother of my Lord should come to me? and, Blessed art thou amongst women, and, Blessed is the fruit of thy wombe. They abhorre to heare her call'd Domina, Lady, or Deipa­ra, God-bearing, few of them being so learned, e­ven in their owne Facul­ty, as to know that they who so stile her, thinke not that the God-head proceeds from her, but that she brought forth Christ, in whom was the union of both Natures, [Page 222]and therefore they being insepa­rable, she must by strong conse­quence be deliver'd of both God and Man. And why are they de­terr'd from giving her these ho­nourable Epithites? Because for­sooth they challenge to them­selves a greater measure of know­ledge, but a lesser of Piety than did their Ancestors. By disclaiming words, and phrases familiar to Antiquity, and by inventing new lesse reverent, and significant; they give all men to understand that they had rather be reputed good Grammarians, than Chri­stians, and had rather give names to the Church, than accept them from her, and cherish prophane Novelties, rather than allow of Reverent Antiquities. They wrest many places of Scripture to prove [Page 223]that Christ himselfe slighted and rebuked her, which depravations of theirs (were my Readers Turkes) I would draw into the Light and lay their deformity o­pen to all; but it is needlesse (I trust) to informe a Christian, that he who hath said, Honour thy Fa­ther and thy Mother, would surely never breake his owne Com­mandement, and by slighting his Mother, trench upon a sinne of all others most detestable in his sight, Ingratitude. Of one thing I will assure them, till they are good Marians, they shall ne­ver be good Christians; while they derogate from the dignity of the Mother, they cannot true­ly honour the Sonne. They are I confesse, much more favoura­ble to her, than the Iewes, but [Page 224]by farre more detracting from her than the Turkes, which As­sertion of mine is strengthened with evident proofes both out of the Iewish Thalmud, and Tur­kish Alchoran. The Iewes call her Thlua, as much as to say, Butcheresse, or the wife of a Butcher, and Sono, a publike sinner, and Thmea, one polluted with all manner of uncleane and filthy lust. And all of their Re­ligion are enjoyned in solemne Prayer made in their Sinagogues thrice every day to curse Christ, his Mother, and all the Christi­an Sect, as is to be found at large in the third Booke of the Thal­mud, wholly compos'd of ridicu­lous Fables, grosse Errors, and horrid Blasphemies. True it is That the Turkish Alchoran now [Page 225]acknowledgeth Christ to be God, and now againe denies him, ta­king him in at the fore-dore, and shutting him out at the backe, yet doe they hold him the grea­test of Prophets next their Ma­homet. But his Mother they mag­nifie above all women that ever breathed this Ayre. Let us heare this Oracle speake, in all things else false, but in this most true. These ensuing are the very for­mall words of the Alchoran. O Mary, excellent above all men and women, who perseverest in the study of God onely. And in another place, O Mary, God hath chosen thee, and purified thee, hee hath elected thee to make thee famous above the women of all Ages: and againe, Mary by behaving her selfe wisely, is guilty neither of Malice, nor any wicked­nesse, [Page 226]which caused us to breath our soule into her. Lastly, that Many men have beene perfect, but no wo­man was ever found perfect, but Mary the Mother of Iesus. But though truth is to be imbrac't where ever we finde it, yet it will appeare more gracefull in the mouthes of Christians, whose most learned, most eloquent, and most judicious. Doctour, we will produce, giving this Testimony of this our dearest Lady.S. Au­stin lib. de nat. & grat. cap. 36. Except (saith he) the holy Virgin Mary, (whom for the honour I owe my Lord and Master, I will not name when sinne is my subject) whom to have had grace infus'd into her, wholly to subdue sinne, wee know by this, that shee was thought worthy to conceive and bring forth him, who assuredly was without sinne: This Virgin, I [Page 227]say, excepted, if we could Recall, and Assemble together all the Saints de­parted, and should aske them, if they were without sinne, they would una­nimously thus answere: If we should say we have no sinne, we deceive our selves, and there is no truth in us. But because the Fathers are no way suspected of neglect towards her, we will spare their verdicts, and chiefly insert their Commen­dations of her, who were the first Reformers of our Church. Lu­ther shall be their Leader, who faith, That none but the Virgin Mary either was, or ever shall be so holy: That the fruit of her wombe shall be blessed, since no other con­ceives without pleasure and sinne: and againe, In this is Mary blessed, That so great gifts are given to her, as surpasse humane understanding. [Page 226] [...] [Page 227] [...] [Page 228]For hence all honour and beatitude proceeds, that in the Vniversall hu­mane race one person should be supe­riour to the rest to whom none should be equall, because one and the same Sonne is common to her with the heavenly Father. This he applyes to that saying of Mary. Hee that is mighty hath magnified mee, &c. The same Author in another place sayes, Mary is our Mother, Christ our Brother, and God our Father, and that all this is true, the Faithfull by effect doe finde. Calvin cals her his Mistresse. Wee willingly, saith he, take Mary for our Mistresse, to whose doctrine and precepts we are obedient. Thogh Erasmus was not a Reformer of our Church, yet he is much suspected by the Romish Church, and most serviceable to the Protestant in the setting out of the Fathers. Erasmus stiles her his [Page 229]Savioresse. Oecolampadius thus de­livers his approbation of her. I trust in God it shall never be said of me, that I did oppose the dignity of Mary, towards whom to be never so little ill affected, I hold to be a most certaine signe of a Reprobate minde. She who is above all, Queene of all, whom God above all hath honoured, should not she be esteemed amongst all the most eminent? Bucerus pro­testeth, That a godly minde will not judge but charitably and piously of her, who brought forth Christ our Lord: Bullingerus concludes; If Mary be blessed amongst all women, and to bee pronounced blessed by all Nations, most cursed are the Iewes, who never cease to revile and slander her; and most unhappy are those Counterfeit Christians, who (being little better than Iewes) robbe her of [Page 230]the praise due to her. Needs must shee be indued with a singular most select, and perpetuall Virginity and purity, who is especially chosen by God to be the Temple of his Sonne, and the Mo­ther of the most holy. Now if any of these contradict themselves by pulling downe in other places those Trophies of her praise which here they haue erected, they are to be answered as the Satyre did the Man with whom he said he would no longer con­verse, because he saw hot and cold breath to issue from the same Mouth. But to leave them; All parts of the world have produced Admirers of her worth.

• Syria hath brought forth Ephraim.
• Antiochia Saint Chryso­stome.
• Capadocia Saint Basill, and Saint Nazianzen.
• Constantinople, Germanus and Proclus.
• Dalmatia, Saint Hierome.
• Germany, Rupertus, Alber­tus, and Agrippa.
• England, Baeda.
• France, Bernhard.
• Spaine, Alphonsus.
• Italy, Aquinas and Bonauen­ture.
• [Page 232]Affrick, Saint Cyprian, and Saint Austin.
• Greece, Dionysius Areopagi­ta, &c.

To these succeed famous Christian Poets, antient and Moderne, who have written Pannegyricks upon her, as

• Baeda.
• Gregorius Nazianzenus.
• Innocentius Pontifex.
• Actius Sanazarius.
• Adam de Sancto victore.
• Alcimus Avitus.
• Antonius Muretus.
• Aurelius Prudentius.
• [Page 233]Baptista Mantuanus.
• Claudianus.
• Franciscus Petrarcha.
• Godfridus Viterbiensis.
• Hieronymus Vida.
• Paulinus.
• D. Philippus Menzelius.
• Rudolphus Agricola.
• Sedulius.
• Venantius Fortunatus.

To these I adde many Em­perours, Princes, and Princes­ses, and a world of devout great ones, who have beene her professed admirers, as

• Constantine the great.
• [Page 234]Charles the great.
• Pulcheria Augusta.
• Henry the second, Empe­rour.
• Alphonsus the chaste in Spaine.
• Edovardus in Hungarie.
• Bolislaus in Polonia.
• Venceslaus in Bohemia.

All which are Canonized for Saints, and have erected and de­dicated Temples to her Memory. Neither have the Princes of this our Ile beene defective in doing her all possible honour, and in Consecrating Chappels and Temples to her Memory. Frede­ricke the third Emperour, made the Contemplation of her, al­most his onely food. Stephanus, King of Hungarie, called his king­dome the Marian Family. In this glorious Family, whole king­domes and Common-wealths have enrolled themselves. My Arithmeticke will not serve mee to number all those who have Re­gistred their names in the Soda­litie of the Rosary of this our blessed Lady, the originall of [Page 236]which is derived from the battaile of Naupactun, gain'd by Iohn of Austria, and the Christians, which victory was attributed to her in­tercession with her Sonne. The Colonian Sodallity first instituted, had out of Lovaine, 4000. out of Brabant, 30000. out of Gueldria, 4000. out of Holland and Zeland, 7000. &c. Many holy Orders al­so are of this Sodality, as the Be­nedictines, the Cistertians, the Franciscans, the Carthusians, and many others. If all these Testimo­nies and Examples of great wor­thy and pious people will not move us to honour her, we shall be judg'd both unworthy of this life, and ignorant of that better to come. For shame let not us alone deny her that honour and praise which all the world allowes her.

After these impartiall witnesses [...]f her worth, we will place those [...]ivine priviledges imparted to her [...]y the Almighty, for which we [...]ave (if that alone were sufficient) [...]he Authority of many pious, [...]arned men.

1 Pri­viledge.First, they affirme, That her Chaste eyes sent forth such divine [...]eames that (though her Loveli­ [...]esse moved not onely all mindes [...]o honour her, and all Eyes to gaze [...]n hers) yet they never kindled an [...]nholy fire in the most Adulterate [...]o some. A sacred priviledge pe­ [...]uliar to this Saint alone; for it was the will of her omnipotent Sonne, that neither Sath in nor his Ministers should conspire the o­verthrow of that chiefe Temple [Page 238]of his Spirit, which his flesh had inhabited so long, nor any impure thought ayme at the mudding of this purest Fountaine. Whether her prophetick Soule foresaw the snares of the ungodly, and so shun'd them, they say not, once for certaine they averre, that Temptations aym'd at her, broke like Haile against a Rocke, nor could all the Engines of the world, the flesh, and the Divell hurt her more, then can the va­pours arising from the earth, reach the holy inhabitants of Heaven. And this opinion (for ought I know, I submit it to better judge­ments) may without, or profana­tion, or blasphemy, be admitted into all honest bosomes: for if be­yond the power of nature he pre­served Ionas entire in the Whales [Page 239]Belly, if he protected Daniel from the ravenous Lyons, should not he secure her from Corruption whom he had adorn'd with so ma­ny vertues and dignities?

2 Pri­viledge.Next, they hold that she was not onely without blemish, but her very lookes sent forth such heavenly rayes, that whosoever beheld them, drew thence a ve­stall fire that never went out, and vowed an everlasting Virginity. If this be a truth, it is a curious one, and it is not materiall at all whether or no it be beleeved, or rejected.

3 Pri­viledge.Thirdly, that she conceiv'd and bore her Sonne, not onely with­out paine (the common Curse an­nexed to Childe-bearing) but [Page 240]with infinite delight. This also is a Curiosity, and of no importance whether it be swallowed or no.

Fourthly and lastly, that she had a Frigidity of Soule, which quencht in her all heat of carnall concupiscence. This last privi­ledge is implyed in the first, and may perchance safely be received. The truth is, we may securely give her all humane attributes (not en­croaching▪ on the divine) for she was in dignity above all, but God himselfe. Faith and Charity, the fulnesse of the Law were in her at full. She was in an active and con­templative life, admirable. The Tongue esteemed the worst part in a woman, was in her the best, which well might charme Eares, offend them it could not. Her [Page 241]Soule weigh'd her Conceptions, and gave them a rayment of ver­tues owne hiew; for certainly so cleere thoughts were apparell'd in as faire words. She who both after her conception, and at other times is commended to us by the sacred Scriptures, for laying up all holy Sayings in her heart, can we imagine that she could speake a­misse? Neither could she commit any undecent Act, who liv'd in a Light to others in [...]ccessible. They who maintaine that for a time the whole Militant Church was in her alone, have probability to backe them; for I know not in whom else it could remaine, when his Apostles, Disciples, Friends, Kin­dred, and all others forsooke Christ, she onely excepted, who would not leave him, who from [Page 242]before his birth, had stucke to her. I will conclude with this Asserti­on, That if ever the Soule of any mortall enjoyed here on earth the embraces of her heavenly Spouse, and tooke from him a kisse swee­ter than all the Easterne Odours, this was she.