In memory of the Vertuous and Learned Lady Madre de Teresa that sought an early Martyrdome.

LOve thou art absolute, sole Lord
Of life and death — To prove the word,
Wee need to goe to none of all
Those thy old souldiers, stout and tall
Ripe and full, growne, that could reach downe,
With strong armes their triumphant crowne:
Such as could with lusty breath,
Speake lowd unto the face of death
Their great Lords glorious name, to none
Of those whose large breasts built a throne
For love their Lord, glorious and great,
Weell see him take a private seat,
And make his mansion in the milde
And milky soule of a soft childe.

Scarce had shee learnt to lisp a name
Of Martyr, yet shee thinkes it shame
Life should so long play with that breath,
Which spent can buy so brave a death.

Shee never undertooke to know,
What death with love should have to doe.
Nor hath shee ere yet understood.
Why to show love shee should shed blood,
Yet though shee cannot tell you why,
Shee can love and shee can dye.
Scarce had shee blood enough, to make
A guilty sword blush for her sake;
Yet has shee a heart dares hope to prove,
How much lesse strong is death then love.

Bee love but there, let poore sixe yeares,
Bee posed with the maturest feares
Man trembles at, wee straight shall find
Love knowes no nonage, nor the mind.
Tis love, not yeares, or Limbes, that can
Make the martyr or the man.
Love toucht her heart, and loe it beats
High, and burnes with such brave heats:
Such thirst to dye, as dare drinke up,
A thousand coled deaths in one cup.
Good reason for shee breaths all fire,
Her weake breast heaves with strong desire,
Of what shee may with fruitlesse wishes
Seeke for, amongst her mothers kisses.

Since tis not to bee had at home,
Sheel travell to a martyrdome.
No home for her confesses shee,
But where shee may A martyr bee.
Sheel to the Moores, and trade with them,
For this unvalued Diadem,
Shee offers them her dearest breath,
With Christs name …nt, in change for death.
Sheel bargain with them, and will give
Them God, and teach them how to live
In him, or if they this denye,
For him sheel teach them how to dye.
So shall shee leave amongst them sowne,
Her Lords blood, or at lest her owne.
Farewell then all the world, adeiu,
Teresa is no more for you:
Farewell all pleasures, sports and joyes,
Never till now esteemed toyes.
Farewell what ever deare may bee,
Mothers armes, or fathers knee.
Farewell house, and farwell home:
Shees for the Moores and Martyrdome.

Sweet not so fast, Loe thy faire spouse,
Whom thou seek'st with so swift vowes
Calls thee back, and bi…s thee como,
T'embrace a milder Martyrdome.

Blest powers forbid thy tender life,
Should bleed upon a barbarous knife.
Or some base hand have power to race,
Thy Breasts chast cabinet; and uncase
A soule kept there so sweet. O no,
Wise heaven will never have it so.
Thou art Loves victim, and must dye
A death more misticall and high.
Into Loves hand thou shalt let fall,
A still surviving funerall.

His is the dart must make the death
Whose stroake shall taste thy hallowed breath▪
A dart thrice dipt in that rich Hame,
Which writes thy spowses radiant name▪
Vpon the roofe of heaven where ay
It shines, and with a soveraigne ray,
Beats bright upon the burning faces
Of soules, which in that names sweet graces,
Find everlasting smiles. So rare,
So spirituall, pure and faire,
Must be the immortall instrument,
Vpon whose choice point shall be spent,
A life so loved, and that there bee
Fit executioners for thee.
The fairest, and the first borne Loves of fire,
Blest Seraphims shall leave their quire,
And turne Loves souldiers upon thee,
To exercise their Archerie.

O how oft shalt thou complaine
Of a sweet and subtile paine?
Of intollerable joyes?
Of a death in which who dyes
Loves his death, and dyes againe,
And would for ever so be slaine!
And lives and dyes, and knowes not why
To live, but that he still may dy.

How kindly will thy gentle heart,
Kisse the sweetly — killing dart:
And close in his embraces keep,
Those delicious wounds that weep
Balsome, to heale themselves with —
— thus
When these thy deaths so numerous,
Shall all at last dye into one,
And melt thy soules sweet mansion:
Like a soft lumpe of Incense, hasted
By too hot a fire, and wasted,
Into perfuming cloudes. So fast
Shalt thou exhale to heaven at last,
In a disolving sigh, and then
O what! aske not the tongues of men,
Angells cannot tell, suffice,
Thy selfe that feel thine owne full joyes.
And hold them fast for ever there,
So soone as thou shalt first appeare.
The moone of maiden starres; thy white
Mistresse attended by such bright
Soules as thy shining selfe, shall come,
And in her first rankes make thee roome.
Where mongst her snowy family,
Immortall wellcomes wait on thee.
O what delight when shee shall stand,
And teach thy Lipps heaven, w…th her hand,
On which thou now maist to thy wishes,
Heap up thy consecrated kisses.
What joy shall seize thy soule when shee
Bending her blessed eyes, on thee
Those second smiles of heaven shall dart,
Her mild rayes, through thy melting heart:

Ange…ls thy old friends there shall greet thee,
Glad at their owne home now to meet thee.
All thy good workes which went before,
And waited for thee at the doore:
Shall owne thee there: and all in one
Weave a Constellation
Of Crownes, with which the King thy spouse,
Shall build up thy triumphant browes.

All thy old woes shall now smile on thee,
And thy pains set bright upon thee.
All thy sorrows here shall shine,
And thy sufferings bee devine.
Teares shall take comfort, and turne Gems.
And wrongs repent to diadems.
Even thy deaths shall live, and new
Drosse the soule, which late they slew.
Thy wounds shall blush to such bright scarres,
As keep account of the Lambes warres

Those rare workes, where thou shalt leave witt,
Loves noble history, with witt
Taught thee by none but him, while here
They feed our soules, shall cloath thine there.
Each heavenly word, by whose hid flame
Our hard hearts shall strike fire, the same
Shall flourish on thy browes; and bee
Both fire to us, and flame to thee:
Whose light shall live bright, in thy face
By glory, in our hearts by grace.

Thou shalt looke round about, and see
Thousand of crownd soules, throng to bee
Themselves thy crowne, sonnes of thy nowes:
The Virgin births with which thy spowse
Made fruitfull thy faire soule; Goe now
And with them all about thee, bow
To him, put on (heel say) put on
My Rosy Love, that thy rich Zone,
Sparkeling with the sacred Hames,
Of thousand soules whose happy names,
Heaven keeps upon thy score thy bright
Life, brought them first to kisse the light.

That kindled them to starres, and so
Thou with the Lambe thy Lord shall goe.
And where so e're hee sitts his white
Steps, walke with him those wayes of Light.
Which who in death would live to see,
Must learne in life to dye like thee.