Spit in my face you Jewes, and pierce my side, 
Buffet, and scoffe, scourge, and crucifie mee, 
For ! 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 be bore our punishment. 
And Jacob 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.