ISKARRIOTT Anagramms. TRAITOR KIS.
KIsse, Traytor, kisse, with an intent to kill,
And cry all haile, when thou dost meane all ill,
And for thy fault no more shall Iudas be
A name of treason and foule infamie,
But all that fault I'le on Iskarriott throw,
Because the Anagram explaines it so.
Iskarriott for a bribe, and with a kisse,
Betraid his Master, the blest King of Blisse:
And after (but too late) with conscience wounded,
Amaz'd, and in his senses quite confounded,
With crying, Woe, woe, woe, oh woe on me,
I haue betraid my Master for a fee:
Oh I haue sinned, sinned past compare,
And want of grace and faith pluckes on despaire.
Oh too-too late it is to call for grace!
What shall I doe? where is some secret place,
That I might shield me from the wrath of God?
I haue deseru'd his euerlasting rod.
Then farewell grace, and faith, and hope, and loue,
You are the gifts of the great God aboue,
You onely on th'Elect attendants be:
Despaire, hell, horror, terror is for me,
My hainous sinne is of such force and might,
'Twill empt th'Exchequer of Gods mercy quite:
And therefore for his mercy Ile not call,
But to my iust deseru'd perdition fall.
I still most gracelesse haue all grace withstood,
And now I haue betraid the guiltlesse blood.
My Lord and Master I haue sold for pelfe,
This hauing said, despayring, hang'd himselfe.
There we leaue him, and now must be exprest
Something of her from vvhom I haue digrest.
The Virgins heart vvith thousand griefs vvas nip••;,
To see her Sauiour flouted, hated, vvhipt,
Despightfulnesse beyond despight vvas vs'd,
And vvith abuse past all abuse abus'd.
His apprehension grieu'd her heart full sore,
His cruell scourges grieu'd her ten times more,
And whē his blessed head with thorns was crown'd
Then floods of griefe on griefe her soule did woūd,
But then redoubled was her griefe and feare,
When to his death his Crosse she saw him beare.
And lastly (but alas not least nor last)
When he vpon the tree was nailed fast,
With bitter teares, & deep heart-wounding groues,
With sobs, and sighs, this Maiden-Mother moanes.
What tongue or pen can her great griefe vnfold,
When Christ said, Woman, now thy Sonne behold?
That voyce (like Ice in Iune) more cold and chill,
Did dangerously wound, and almost kill:
Then (as old Simeon prophesi'd before)
The sword of sorrow through her heart did gore.
And if 'twere possible all womens woes
One woman could within her brest inclose,
They were but puffes, sparkes, mole-hills, drops of raine;
To whirl-winds, meteors, Kingdomes, or the maine:
Vnto the woes, griefes, sorrowes, sighs, and teares,
Sobs, gronings, terrors, and a world of feares,
Which did beset this Virgin on each side,
When as her Sonne, her Lord, and Sauiour dide.
Thus he, to whom compar'd, all things are drosse,
Humbled himselfe to death, euen to the Crosse:
He that said, Let there be, and there was light,
He that made all things with his mighty might,
He by whom all things haue their life and breath,
He humbled himselfe vnto the death;
Vnto the death of the curst Crosse: this he,
This he, this He of hee's did stoope for me:
For me this Wel-spring of my soules releefe,
Did suffer death, on either hand a theefe:
The one of them had runne a theeuing race,
Rob'd God of Glory, and himselfe of Grace:
He wanted liuely faith to apprehend,
To end his life for life that ne'r shall end:
With faithlesse doubts his minde is armed stiffe,
And doth reuile our Sauiour with an If.
If that thou be the Sonne of God (quoth he)
Come from the Crosse, and saue thy selfe and me.
The other Theefe, arm'd with a sauing faith,
Vnto his fellow turn'd, and thus he saith;
Thou guilty wretch, this man is free and cleare
From any crime for which he suffers here:
We haue offended, we haue iniur'd many,
But this man yet did neuer wrong to any,
We iustly are condemn'd, he false accus'd,
He hath all wrong, all right to vs is vs'd,
Hee's innocent, so are not thou and I:
We by the Law are iustly iudg'd to dye.