Also this company, which had put the creature [="one created by God"] mentioned earlier away from their table, so that she should no longer eat among them, engaged a ship for themselves to sail in. They bought vessels for their wine, and obtained bedding for themselves, but nothing for her. Then she, seeing their unkindness, went to the same man where they had been, and bought herself bedding as they had done, and came where they were and showed them what she had done, meaning to sail with them in that ship that they had chartered.
Afterwards, as this creature was in contemplation, Our Lord warned her in her mind that she should not sail in that ship, and He assigned her to another ship, a galley, that she should sail in. Then she told this to some of the company, and they told it to their fellowship, and then they dared not sail in the ship they had chartered. So they sold away their vessels which they had got for their wines, and were right anxious to come to the galley where she was, and so, though it was against her will, she went forth with them in their company, for they dared not do otherwise.
When it was time to make their beds, they locked up her clothes, and a priest, who was in their company, took away a sheet from the creature, and said it was his. She took God to witness that it was her sheet. Then the priest swore a great oath, by the book in his hand, that she was as false as she might be, and despised her and strongly blamed her.
And so she had ever much sorrow until she came to Jerusalem. And before she came there, she said to them that she supposed they were angry with her.
"I pray you, Sirs, be in charity with me, for I am in charity with you, and forgive me that I have grieved you by the way. And if any of you have in anything trespassed against me, God forgive it you, and I do."
So they went forth into the Holy Land until they could see Jerusalem. And when this creature saw Jerusalem, riding on an donkey, she thanked God with all her heart, praying Him for His mercy that, as He had brought her to see His earthly city of Jerusalem, He would grant her grace to see the blissful city of Jerusalem above, the City of Heaven. Our Lord Jesus Christ, answering her thought, granted her to have her desire.
Then for the joy she had, and the sweetness she felt in the dalliance [="sweet conversation," often used between lovers] with our Lord, she was on the point of falling off her donkey, for she could not bear the sweetness and grace that God worked in her soul. Then two pilgrims, Germans, went to her, and kept her from falling; one of whom was a priest, and he put spices in her mouth to comfort her, thinking she had been sick. And so they helped her on to Jerusalem, and when she came there, she said:
"Sirs, I pray you be not displeased though I weep sorely in this holy place where Our Lord Jesus Christ was alive and dead."
Then went they to the temple in Jerusalem and they were let in on the same day at evensong time, and stayed there until the next day at evensong time. Then the friars lifted up a cross and led the pilgrims about from one place to another where our Lord suffered His pain and His passion, every man and woman bearing a wax candle in one hand. And the friars always, as they went about, told them what Our Lord suffered in every place. The creature wept and sobbed as plenteously as though she had seen Our Lord with her bodily eye, suffering His passion at that time. Before her in her soul she saw Him truly by contemplation, and that caused her to have compassion. And when they came up on to the Mount of Calvary, she fell down because she could not stand or kneel, and rolled and wrested with her body, spreading her arms out, and cried with a loud voice as though her heart would have burst asunder; for, in the city of her soul, she saw truly and clearly how Our Lord was crucified. Before her face, she heard and saw, in her spiritual sight, the mourning of Our Lady, of Saint John, and Mary Magdalene and of many others that loved Our Lord.
And she had such great compassion and such great pain, at seeing Our Lord's pain that she could not keep herself from crying and roaring though she should have died for it. And this was the first cry that ever she cried in any contemplation. And this manner of crying endured many years after this time, for anything any man might do, and therefore, she suffered much despite and much blame. The crying was so loud and so strange that it made the people astounded unless they had heard it before, or unless they knew the cause of the crying. And she had them so often that they made her right weak in her bodily might and especially if she heard of Our Lord's passion.
And sometimes, when she saw the crucifix, or if she saw a man with a wound, or a beast, whichever it were, or if a man beat a child before her, or whipped a horse or other beast, if she saw it or heard it, she thought she saw Our Lord being beaten or wounded, just as she saw it in the man or the beast either in the field or the town, and by herself alone as well as amongst the people.
First when she had her cryings in Jerusalem, she had them often, and in Rome also. And when she came home to England, first at her coming home, it came but seldom, as it were once a month, then once a week, afterwards daily, and once she had fourteen in one day, and another day she had seven, and so on, as God would visit her, sometimes in church, sometimes in the street, sometimes in her chamber, sometimes in the fields, whenever God would send them, for she never knew the time nor the hour when they would come. And they never came without passing great sweetness of devotion and high contemplation. And as soon as she perceived that she would cry, she would keep it in as much as she might that the people should not hear it, to their annoyance. For some said that a wicked spirit troubled her; some said it was a sickness; some said she had drunk too much wine; some banned her; some wished she was in the harbor; some wished she was on the sea in a bottomless boat; and thus each man as he thought. Other spiritual men loved her and favored her the more. Some great clerics said Our Lady cried never so, nor any saint in Heaven, but they knew full little what she felt, nor would they believe that she could not stop crying if she wished.
And therefore when she knew that she would cry, she kept it in as long as she might, and did all she could to withstand it or put it away, until she became as livid as any lead, and ever it would work in her mind more and more until the time it broke out. And when the body might no longer endure the spiritual labor, but was overcome with the unspeakable love that worked so fervently in her soul, then she fell down and cried wondrous loud, and the more she labored to keep it in or put it away, so much the more would she cry, and the louder. Thus she did on the Mount of Cavalry, as is written before.
Thus she had as very contemplation in the sight of her soul, as if Christ had hung before her bodily eye in His Manhood. And when through the dispensation of the high mercy of Our Sovereign Savior Christ Jesus, it was granted to this creature to see so truly. His precious tender body, all rent and torn with scourges, fuller of wounds than ever was a dove-house of holes hanging on the cross with the crown of thorns upon His head, His beautiful hands, His tender feet nailed to the hard tree, the river of blood flowing out plenteously from every member, the grisly and grievous wound in His precious side shedding blood and water for her love and her salvation, then she fell down and cried with a loud voice, wonderfully turning and wresting her body on every side, spreading her arms out as if she would have died and could not keep herself from crying, and from these bodily movements for the fire of love that burnt so fervently in her soul with pure pity and compassion.
It is not to be marvelled at, if this creature cried and made wondrous faces and expressions, when we may see each day both men and women, some for the loss of worldly goods, some for affection of their kindred, or worldly friendships, through too much study and earthly affection, and most of all for inordinate love and fleshly affection, if their friends are parted from them, they will cry and roar and wring their hands as if they had no wits or senses, and yet know they well that they are displeasing God.
And, if a man counsel them to leave or cease their weeping and crying, they will say that they cannot; they loved their friend so much, and he was so gentle and so kind to them, that they may in no way forget him. How much more might they weep, cry, and roar, if their most beloved friends were with violence taken in their sight and with all manner of accusation brought before the judge, wrongfully condemned to death, and especially so spiteful a death as Our Merciful Lord suffered for our sake. How would they take it? No doubt they would both cry and roar and avenge themselves if they might, or else men would say they were no friends.
Alas! Alas! For sorrow that the death of a creature, who hath often sinned and trespassed against their Maker, shall be so immeasurably mourned and sorrowed. And it is an offence to God, and a barrier to the souls beside them.
And the compassionate death of Our Savior by which we are all restored to life, is not kept in mind by us unworthy and unkind dispicable sorts, nor do we support those entrusted by Our Lord with secrets, whom He has embued with love, but rather we detract and hinder them as much as we may.