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THe great love of the holy Vir∣gin, hath made her suffer ex∣tremely; her life is no other but a Martyrdome; her thoughts are fixed only upon the Crosse, and her eyes have no other object, then death, and the death of her Sonne: Her love is now but languishing, and her languishments cause her inces∣santly to sigh after her God and her Sonne. O my soule! how hap∣py should you be, if you could live no longer, but to love and suffer.
Holy Virgin! how shall I attaine so light enough to conceive your greatnesse, and grace to imitate the severall dis∣positions of your soule? I know and faith teacheth me, that you are the Mother of God, that your soule is full of grace; and I confesse that you are the worthiest object of love, and the most capable of favours from the blessed Trinity; yet I see your soule all immersed in the bitternesse of the Crosse, Your life is no longer but a Martyrdome, your love is lan∣guishing, and the object of your sighs are fixed onely on the
death of your Sonne. O how content should I be (O Virgin, life of my soule!) if I could lead such a life as yours, How happy should I be, if in imita∣tion of you, I had no other re∣pose then in afflictions, no other delight but in the Crosse, nor other life but in the death of your Sonne! I deserve not this favour, I have not grace enough to live in so holy a manner; ne∣verthelesse I desire to live no longer, but to love, and no lon∣ger to love, but to suffer. I offer my selfe unto you, for all this, dispose now wholly of me, as you shall please.