But oh, cruel tongue ! why pleadest thou thus
against him, whose situation is, I fear, so pitiable,
that it might rather move all tongues to plead for him ;
for perchance he is in their hands, whose unmerciful
hearts are making merry with his misery, and building
the triumphs of their impious victory upon the ruins of
his disgraced glory ? And now, O grief ! because I
know not where he is, I cannot imagine how to help
him; for they have taken him away, and I know not
where they have put him.
Alas ! Mary, why dost thou consume thyself with
these cares ? His heavenly Father knoweth, and he
will help him; the angels know, and they will guard
him; his own Spirit knoweth, and that will assist
him. And what need is there that thou, silly woman,
shouldst know it, that canst no way profit him ? But
I, feel in what vein thy pulse beateth, and by thy desire
I, discover thy disease* Though both heaven and earth
did know it, and the whole world had notice of it, yet
except thou also wert made privy to it, thy woes would
be as great, and thy tears as many. That others see the
sun, doth not lighten thy darkness ; neither can others'
eating satisfy thy hunger. The more there are that
know of liim, the greater is thy sorrow that, among
so many, thou art not taught worthy to be one ; and
the more there are that can help him, the more it
grieveth thee that thy poor help is not accepted among
them. Though thy knowledge needeth it not, thy
love doth desire it ; and though it avail not, thy de-
sire will seek it. If all know it, thou wouldst know
it with all : if no other, thou wouldst know it alone;
and from whomsoever it be concealed, it must be no
secret with thee. Though the knowledge would dis-
comfort thee, yet know it thou wilt ; yea, though it
would kill thee, thou couldst not forego the know-
ledge of it.
The Lord is, to thy love, like drink to the thirsty :
if they cannot have it, they die for drought ; if they
are long without it, they pine away with the longing.
And as men in extremity of thirst are still dreaming of
fountains, brooks, and springs, being never able to
have other thought, or to utter other word, but of
drink and moisture ; so lovers, in the vehemence of
their passion, can neither think nor speak but of what
they love ; and if that be once missing, every part is
both an eye to watch, and an ear to listen, for what
hope or news soever may be had. If it be good, they
die till they hear it ; though bad, yet they cannot live
without it. Of the good, they hope that it is the very
best ; and of the evil, they fear it to be the worst :
and yet, though never so good, they pine till it be told ;
and be it never so evil, they are importunate to know
it ; and when they once know it, they can neither bear
the joy, nor brook the sorrow, both the one and the
other being enough to kill them.
And this, O Mary, I guess to be the cause why the
angels would not tell thee of the estate thy Lord was
in : for had it been to thy liking, thou wouldst have
died for joy ; if otherwise, thou wouldst have sunk
down for sorrow. And therefore they leave this news
for him to deliver, whose word, if it give thee a wound,
has also the salve to cure it, be it never so deadly.
But, alas ! afflicted soul, why doth it so deeply grieve
thee that thou knowest not where he is ? Thou canst
not better him, if he be well - thou canst as little suc-
cour him if he be ill : and since thou fearest that he is
rather ill than well, why shouldst thou know it, so to
end thy hopes in mishap, and thy great fears in far
greater sorrows ? Alas ! to ask thee why, is, in a
manner, to ask one half starved why he is hungry :
for as thy Lord is the food of thy thoughts, the relief
of thy wishes, the only repast of all thy desires ; so is
thy love a continual hunger, and his absence an ex-
treme famine.
But why doth thy sorrow dwell so much upon the
place where he is ? Was it not enough for thee to
know who had him ? Must thou also know to what
place he is conveyed ? A worse place than a grave no
man will offer, and many will allow a far better man-
sion ; and therefore thou mayst boldly think, that
wheresoever he be, he is in a place fitter for him than
where he was. Thy sister Martha confessed him to be
the Son of God; doth thy belief agree with her con-
fession ? For what place more suited for the Son, than
to be with the Father, the business for which he hath
been so long from him being fully finished ? If he be
the Messiah, as thou didst once believe, it was said of
him, that he should ascend on high, and lead captivity
captive. And what is this height but heaven ; what
this captiyity but death ? Death, therefore, is become
his captive ; and what more likely than that, with the
spoils thereof, he is ascended in triumpb to eternal
life?
But, if thou canst not lift thy mind to so favourable a
belief, yet mayst thou well suppose he is in paradis.
If he came to repair the ruins of Adam's fall, and
to be the common parent of our redemption, as
Adam was of our original infection, reason itself
seems to require, that having all his life endured
the penalty of Adam's exile, he should, after death,
re-enter in possession of that inheritance which
Adam lost. If sorrow at the Cross did not make thee
as deaf, as grief at the tomb maketh thee forgetful,
thou didst hear himself say to one of the thieves, that
the same day he should be with him in Paradise. -
And if it be reasonable that no shadow should be more
privileged than the body, no figure in more account
than the figured truth, why shouldst thou believe that
Elias and Enoch have been in Paradise these many
ages, and that he, whom they but as types resembled,
should be excluded from thence ? And yet if the base-
ness and misery of his passion have laid him so low in
thy conceit, that thou thinkest Paradise too high a
place to be likely to possess him ; the very lowest sta-
tion that reason can assign him cannot be meaner than
the bosom of Abraham. Let not, therefore, the place
where he is trouble thee, since it cannot be worse than
the grave ; and there are infinite reasons to conjecture
that it must be better.
But suppose that he were yet remaining on earth,
and taken by others out of his tomb, what would it
avail thee to know where he were ? If he be with such
as love and honour him, they will be as wary to keep
him as they are loth he should be lost ; and therefore
will either often change, or never confess the place;
knowing that secrecy is the surest guard to defend so
great a treasure. If those have taken him that hate
and malign him, thou mayest well judge him past thy
recovery. Thou wouldst haply make sale of thy living,
and seek him by ransom : but it is not likely they
would sell him to be honoured, whom they bought to
be murdered.- If price would not serve, thou wouldst
have recourse to prayer. But would prayer soften such
ftinty hearts ? If they scorned so many tears offered
for his life, would they regard thy entreaty for his
corse ? If neither price nor prayer would prevail;
thou wouldst attempt it by force. But, alas ! silly
soldier, thy arms are too weak to manage weapons;
and the issue of thy assault would be the loin of thy-
self. - If no other way would help; thou wouldst pur-
loin him by stealth, and think thyself happy in con-
triving such a theft. - Oh, Mary, thou art deceived,
for malice would have many locks ; and to steal him
from a thief that could steal him from the watch, re-
quireth more cunning in the art than thy want of
practice can afford thee. - Yet if this be the cause why
thou enquirest of the place,- thou showest the force of
thy rare affection and deserves the laurel of a perfect
lover.
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