Spit in my face yee Jewes, and pierce my side,

Buffet, and scoffe, scourge, and crucifie mee,

For I have sinn'd, and sinn'd, and onely hee,

Who could do no iniquitie, hath dyed:

But by my death can not be satisfied　

My sinnes, which passe the Jewes impiety:

They kill'd once an inglorious man, but I

Crucifie him daily, being now glorified.

Oh let mee then, his strange love still admire:

Kings pardon but he bore our punishment.　

And Iacob came cloth'd in vile harsh attire

But to supplant, and with gainfull intent:

God cloth'd himselfe in vile mans flesh, that so

Hee might be weake enough to suffer woe.