Nosce teipsum. This Oracle expounded in two Elegies.  

1. Of Human knowledge.  
2. Of the Soul of Man, and the immortality thereof.   
LONDON, Printed by Richard Field, for john Standish. 1599   

TO MY MOST GRACIOUS dread Sovereign.  

TO that clear Majesty, which in the North,  
Doth like another Sun in glory rise,  
Which standeth fixed, yet spreads her heavenly worth,  
Loadstone to Hearts, and Lodestar to all Eyes;   

Like Heaven in all; like th'Earth in this alone,  
That though great States by her support do stand,  
Yet she herself supported is of none,  
But by the Finger of th' Almighty's hand;   

To the divinest and the richest mind,  
Both by Arts purchase, and by Nature's Dower,  
That ever was from Heaven to Earth confined,  
To show the utmost of a Creatures power;   

To that great Spirit, which doth great Kingdoms move,  
The sacred Spring, whence Right and Honour streams,  
Distilling Virtue, shedding peace and Love,  
In every place, as Cynthia sheds her beams;   

I offer up some sparkles of that fire,  
Whereby we reason, live, and move, and be:  
These sparks by nature evermore aspire,  
Which makes them to so high an Highness flee.   

Fair Soul, since to the fairest body knit,  
You give such lively life, such quickening power,  
Such sweet celestial influence to it,  
As keeps it still in youths immortal flower,   

(As where the Sun is present all the year,  
And never doth retire his golden ray,  
Needs must the Spring be everlasting there,  
And every season like the Month of May.)   

O many, many years may you remain,  
A happy Angel to this happy Land:  
Long, long, may you on earth our empress reign,  
E'er you in Heaven a glorious Angel stand;   

Stay long (sweet Spirit) ere thou to Heaven departed,  
Which makest each place a Heaven wherein thou art.   
Her majesties least and unworthiest subject. john Davies.   

Of human knowledge.  

WHy did my parents sand me to the schools,  
That I with knowledge might enrich my mind,  
Since the desire to know first made men fools,  
And did corrupt the root of all mankind?   

For when God's hand had written in the hearts  
Of the first Parents all the rules of good,  
So that their skill enfusde did pass all Arts  
That ever were, before, or since the Flood;   

And when their reason's eye was sharp and clear,  
And (as an Eagle can behold the Sun,)  
Can have approached th'eternal light as near,  
As th'intellectual Angels could have done;   

Even then, to them the Spirit of lies suggests,  
That they were blind, because they saw not Ill:  
And breathes into their incorrupted breasts,  
A curious wish, which did corrupt their william.   

For that same Ill they strait desired to know:  
Which Ill being naught but a defect of good,  
In all Gods works the Devil could not show,  
While Man their Lord in his perfection stood.   

So that themselves were first to do the Ill,  
E'er they thereof the knowledge could attain;  
Like him, that knew not poisons power to kill,  
Until (by tasting it) himself was slain.   

Even so by tasting of that Fruit forbidden,  
Where they sought knowledge, they did error found,  
Ill they desired to know, and Ill they did;  
And to give Passion eyes, made Reason blind.   

For than their minds did first in passion see  
Those wretched shapes, of Misery and Woe,  
Of Nakedness, of Shame, of Poverty,  
Which then their own experience made them know.   

But than grew Reason dark, that she no more  
Can the fair Forms of God and Truth discern;  
Bats they became, that Eagles were before,  
And this they got by their desire to learn.   

But we their wretched Offspring, what do we?  
Do not we still taste of the fruit forbidden?  
Whiles with fond, fruitless curiosity,  
In books profane we seek for knowledge hid?   

What is this knowledge? but the Skie-stolne fire,  
For which the Thief still chained in Ice doth sit?  
And which the poor rude Satire did admire,  
And needs would kiss, but burned his lips with it?   

What is it? but the cloud empty of Rain,  
Which when Ioues Guest embraced, he Monsters got?  
Or the false Pails, which often being filled with pain,  
Received the water, but retained it not?   

Shortly what is it? but the fiery Coach,  
Which the Youth sought, & sought his death withal?  
Or the Boys wings, which when he did approach  
The suns hot beams, did melt and let him fall?   

And yet, alas, when all our Lamps are burnt,  
Our Bodies wasted, and our Spirits spent;  
When we have all the learned volumes turned,  
Which yield men's wits both help and ornament;   

What can we know? or what can we discern?  
WHen Error chokes the windows of the mind;  
The diverse forms of things, how can we learn,  
That have been ever from our birthday blind?   

When Reasons lamp which (like the Sun in sky)  
Throughout Man's little world her beams did sprea  
Is now become a Sparkle, which doth lie  
Under the Ashes, half extinct, and dead;   

How can we hope, that through the Eye and Ear,  
This dying Sparkle, in this cloudy place,  
Can recollect those beams of knowledge clear,  
Which were enfused in the first minds by grace?   

So might the heir, whose father hath in play,  
Wasted a thousand pounds of ancient rent,  
By painful earning of one groat a day,  
Hope to restore the patrimony spent.   

The wits that dived most deep, and soared most high,  
Seeking Man's powers, have found his weakness such:  
" Skill comes so slow, and life so fast doth fly,  
" We learn so little, and forget so much.   

For this the wisest of all Mortal men  
Said, he knew naught, but that he naught did know:  
And the great mocking Master mocked not then,  
When he said, Truth was buried deep below.   

For how may we to others things attain,  
When none of us his own Soul understands?  
For which the Devil mocks our curious brain,  
When know thyself his oracle commands.   

For why should we the busy Soul believe,  
When boldly she concludes of that, and this,  
When of herself she can no judgement give,  
Nor how, nor whence, nor where, nor what she is?   

All things without, which round about we see,  
We seek to know, and have therewith to do:  
But that whereby we reason, live, and be,  
Within ourselves, we strangers are thereto.   

We seek to know the moving of each sphere,  
And the strange cause of th'ebbs and floods of Nile:  
But of that clock within our breast we bear,  
The subtle motions we forget the while.   

We that acquaint ourselves with every Zone,  
And pass both Tropikes, and behold the Poles,  
When we come home, are to ourselves unknown,  
And unacquainted still with our own Souls.   

We study Speech, but others we persuade;  
We Leech craft learn, but others Cure with it;  
We interpret Laws, which other men have made;  
But read not those, which in our hearts are writ.   

Is it because the mind is like the eye,  
(Through which it gathers knowledge by degrees,)  
Whose rays reflect not, but spread outwardly,  
Not seeing itself, when other things it sees?   

Not doubtless, for the mind can backward cast  
Upon herself, her understanding light;  
But she is so corrupt, and so defaced,  
As her own image doth herself affright.   

As is the fable of that Lady fair,  
Which for her lust was turned into a Cow,  
When thirty to a stream she did repair,  
And saw herself transformed, she witted not how,   

At first she startles, than she stands amazed,  
At last with terror she from thence doth fly,  
And loathes the watery glass wherein she gazed,  
And shuns it still, though she for thirst do die.   

Even so Man's soul which did God's Image bear,  
And was at first fair, good, and spotless pure,  
Since with her sins her beauties blotted were,  
Doth of all sights her own sight lest endure.   

For even at first reflection she espies,  
Such strange Chimeras, and such Monsters there,  
Such Toys, such Antikes, and such Vanities,  
As she retires, and shrinks for shame and fear;   

And as the man loves lest at home to be,  
That hath a sluttish house, haunted with Spirits,  
So she impatient her own faults to see,  
Turns from herself, and in strangethings delights.   

For this few know themselves: for merchants broke  
View their estate with discontent, and pain;  
And Seas are troubled when they do revoke,  
Their flowing waves, into themselves again.   

And while the face of outward things we found,  
Pleasing, and fair, agreeable, and sweet;  
These things transport, and carry out the mind,  
That with herself herself can never meet.   

Yet if Affliction once her wars begin,  
And threat the feeble Sense with sword and fire,  
The Mind contracts herself, and shrinketh in,  
And to herself she gladly doth retire;   

As Spiders touched, seek their webs in most part:  
As Bees in storms unto their hives return:  
As Blood in danger gathers to the heart;  
As Men seek Towns when foes the Country burne.   

If aught can teach us aught, Afflictions looks,  
(Making us look into ourselves so near)  
Teach us to know ourselves, beyond all books,  
Or all the learned Schools that ever were.   

This Mistress lately plucked me by the Ear,  
And many a golden lesson hath me taught;  
Hath made my Senses quick, and Reason clear,  
Reformed my Will, and rectifide my Thought;   

So do the Winds and Thunders cleanse the Air,  
So working Seas settle and purge the wine;  
So lopped and pruned Trees do slorish fair;  
So doth the fire the drossy Gold refine.   

Neither Minerva, nor the learned Muse,  
Nor Rules of Art, nor Precepts of the wise,  
Can in my brain those beams of skill infuse,  
As but the glance of this Dames angry eyes.   

She within Lists my ranging mind hath brought,  
That now beyond myself I list not go;  
Myself am Centre of my circling thought,  
Only myself I study, learn, and know.   

I know my body's of so frail a kind,  
As force without, fevers within can kill;  
I know the heavenly nature of my mind,  
But 'tis corrupted, both in wit and will:   

I know my Soul hath power to know all things,  
Yet is she blind and ignorant in all;  
I know I am one of Nature's little kings,  
Yet to the lest and vilest things am thrall.   

I know my life's a pain, and but a span,  
I know my Sense is mocked with every thing;  
And to conclude, I know myself a Man,  
Which is a proud and yet a wretched thing.    

Of the Soul of man, and the immortality thereof.  

THe lights of heaven (which are the world's fair eyes)  
Look down into the world, the world to see,  
And as they turn, or wander in the skies,  
Survey all things, that on this Centre be.   

And yet the lights which in my tower do shine,  
Mine Eyes, which view all objects, nigh and far,  
Look not into this little world of mine,  
Nor see my face, wherein they fixed are.   

Since Nature fails us in no needful thing,  
Why want I means, mine inward self to see?  
Which sight, the knowledge of myself might bring,  
Which to true wisdom is the first degree.   

That power, which gave me eyes the world to view,  
To view myself, enfused an inward light,  
Whereby my Soul, as by a Mirror true,  
Of her own form may take a perfect sight.   

But as the sharpest eye discerneth naught,  
Except the Sunbeams in the Air do shine;  
So the best Soul, with her reflecting thought,  
Sees not herself, without some light divine.   

O Light which makest the Light, which makes the Day,  
Which setst the Eye without, and Mind within,  
Lighten my spirit with one clear heavenly ray,  
Which now to view itself doth first begin.   

For her true form how can my Spark discern?  
Which dim by Nature, Art did never clear;  
When the great Wits, of whom all skill we learn,  
Are ignorant both what she is, and where?   

One thinks the Soul is Air, another Fire,  
Another, blood defused about the heart;  
Another saith, the Elements conspire,  
And to her Essence each doth give a part.   

musicans think our Souls are Harmonies;  
Physicians hold, that they Complexions be;  
Epicures make them swarms of Atoms,  
Which do by chance into our Bodies flee.   

Some think one general Soul fills every brain,  
As the bright Sun sheds light in every Star:  
And others think the name of Soul is vain,  
And that we only well mixed bodies are.   

In judgement of her substance thus they vary:  
And thus they vary in judgement of her seat:  
For some her Chair up to the brain do carry,  
Some thrust it down into the stomachs heat;   

Some place it in the Root of life, the heart,  
Some in the Liver, fountain of the Veins;  
Some say, she is all in all, and all in part:  
Some say, she is not contained, but all contains.   

Thus these great Clerks their little wisdom show,  
While with their Doctrines they at Hazard play,  
Tossing their light opinions to and fro,  
To mock the Lewd, as learned in this as they.   

For no crazed brain could ever yet propound,  
Touching the Soul so vain and fond a thought,  
But some among these Masters have been found,  
Which in their Schools the self same thing have taught.   

God only wise, to punish pride of Wit,  
Among men's wits hath this confusion wrought,  
As the proud Tower whose points the clouds did hit,  
By Tongue's confusion was to ruin brought.   

But (thou) which didst Mans-soule of nothing make,  
And when to nothing it was fallen again,  
To make it new, the Form of Man didst take,  
And God with God becamest a Man with Men;   

Thou, that hast fashioned twice this Soul of ours,  
So that she is by double title thine,  
Thou only knowest her nature and her powers,  
Her subtle form thou only canst define.   

To judge herself, she must herself transcend,  
As greater Circles comprehend the less;  
But she wants power, her own powers to extend,  
As fettered Men, can not their strength express.   

But thou bright morning Star, thou rising Sun,  
Which in these later times hast brought to light  
Those mysteries, that since the world begun,  
Lay hid in darkness, and eternal night;   

Thou (like the Sun) dost with in different ray  
Into the Palace and the Cottage shine,  
And show'st the Soul, both to the Clerk and lay,  
By the clear Lamp of thy Oracle divine.   

This Lamp through all the Regions of my brain,  
Where my Soul sits, doth spread such beams of grace  
As now, me thinks, I do distinguish plain,  
Each subtle line of her immortal face.   


What the Soul is.  The soul a substance, and a spirit is,  
Which God himself doth in the Body make;  
Which makes the Man; for every Man from this  
The nature of a Man, and name doth take.   

And though this Spirit be to the Body knit,  
As an apt mean her powers to exercise,  
Which are, life, motion, sense, and will, and wit,  
Yet she survives, although the Body dies.   

She is a substance, and a real thing, 
That the Soul is a thing subsisting by itself without the Body.   
1 Which hath itself an actual working might,  
2 Which neither from the Senses power doth spring,  
3 Nor from the Body's humours tempered right.   

She is a Vine, which doth no propping need,  
To make her spread herself, or spring upright;  
She is a Star, whose beams do not proceed  
From any Sun, but from a native light.   

For when she sorts things present with things past, 
1 That the Soul hath a proper operation without the Body.   
And thereby things to come doth often foresee;  
When she doth doubt at first, and choose at last,  
These acts her own, without the Body, be.   

When of the dew, which the eye and ear do take  
From flowers abroad, and bring into the brain,  
She doth within both wax and honey make,  
This work is hers, this is her proper pain.   

When she from sundry Acts, one skill doth draw,  
Gathering from diverse fights one Art of war,  
From many Cases like, one Rule of law;  
These her Collections, not the Senses are.   

When in th'effects she doth the Causes know,  
And seeing the stream, thinks where the spring doth rise;  
And seeing the branch, conceives the root below;  
These things she views without the Bodies eyes.   

When she without a Pegasus doth fly  
Swifter than lightnings fire from East to West,  
About the Centre, and above the sky,  
She travels then, although the body rest.   

When all her works she formeth first within,  
Proportions them, and sees their perfect end,  
E'er she in act doth any part begin:  
What instruments doth then the body lend?   

When without hands she thus doth Castles build,  
Sees without eyes, and without feet doth run,  
When she digests the World, yet is not filled,  
By her own power these miracles are done.   

When she defines, argues, divides, compounds,  
Considers virtue, vice, and general things,  
And marrying diverse principles and grounds,  
Out of their match a true Conclusion brings;   

These Actions in her Closet all alone,  
(Retired within herself) she doth fulfil;  
Use of her bodies Organs she hath none,  
When she doth use the powers of Wit and William.   

Yet in the Body's prison so she lies,  
As through the body's windows she must look,  
Her diverse powers of Sense to exercise,  
By gathering Notes out of the World's great Book.   

Nor can herself discourse, or judge of aught,  
But what the sense Collects and home doth bring;  
And yet the power of her discoursing thought,  
From these Collections, is a diverse thing.   

For though our eyes can naught but Colours see,  
Yet colours give them not their power of sight:  
So, though these fruits of Sense her objects be,  
Yet she discerns them by her proper light.   

The workman on his stuff his skill doth show,  
And yet the stuff gives not the man his skill;  
Kings their affairs do by their servants know,  
But order them by their own royal william.   

So though this cunning Mistress and this Queen,  
Doth as her instruments the Senses use,  
To know all things that are felt, heard, or seen,  
Yet she herself doth only judge and choose:   

Even as our great wise Empress, that now reigns,  
By sovereign title over sundry lands,  
Borrows in mean affairs her subjects pains,  
Sees by their eyes, and writeth by their hands;   

But things of weight and consequence indeed,  
Herself doth in her chamber them debate,  
Where all her Counsellors she doth exceed  
As far in judgement, as she doth in state.   

Or as the man whom she doth now advance,  
Upon her gracious mercy seat to sit,  
Doth common things of course and circumstance,  
To the Reports of common men commit:   

But when the Cause itself must be decreed,  
Himself in person in his proper Court,  
To grave and solemn hearing doth proceed,  
Of every proof, and every by-report:   

Than like God's Angel he pronounceth right,  
And milk and honey from his tongue do flow:  
Happy are they that still are in his sight,  
To reap the wisdom which his lips do sow:   

Right so the Soul, which is a Lady free,  
And doth the justice of her State maintain,  
Because the Senses ready servants be,  
Attending nigh about her Court, the brain:   

By them the forms of outward things she learns,  
For they return into the fantasy,  
What ever each of them abroad discerns,  
And there enrol it for the mind to see.   

But when she sits to judge the good and Ill,  
And to discern betwixt the false and true,  
She is not guided by the Senses skill,  
But doth each thing in her own Mirror view.   

Than she the Senses checks, which often do err,  
And even against their false reports decrees;  
And often she doth condemn, what they prefer,  
For with a power above the Sense, she sees:   

Therefore no Sense the precious joys conceives,  
Which in her private Contemplations be;  
For then the ravished spirit the Senses leaves,  
Hath her own powers, and proper actions free.   

Her harmonies are sweet, and full of skill,  
When on the body's instrument she plays:  
But the proportions of the wit and will,  
Those sweet accords, are even the Angels lays.   

These tunes of Reason, are Amphyons' lyre,  
Wherewith he did the Theban City found,  
These are the notes, wherewith the heavenly Choir  
The praise of him, which spreads the heaven, doth sound   

Than her self being Nature shines in this,  
That she performs her noblest works alone;  
" The work the Touchstone of the nature is,  
" And by their operations things are known.   

Arc they not senseless then, 
2 That the soul is more th●n a perfection or reflection of the sense.  that think the soul  
Naught but a fine perfection of the Sense,  
Or of the forms which fancy doth enrol,  
A quick resulting and a consequence?   

What is it then, that doth the Sense accuse,  
Both of false judgements, and fond appetites?  
Which makes us do what Sense doth most refuse?  
Which often in torment of the Sense delights?   

Sense thinks the Planets spheres not much asunder:  
What tells us then their distance is so far?  
Sense thinks the lightning borne before the thunder:  
What tells us than they both together are?   

When Men seem Crows far off upon a Tower,  
Sense saith, they'reare crows, what makes us think them men?  
When we in Agues think all sweet things sour,  
What makes us know our tongues false judgement then?   

What power was that, whereby Medea saw,  
And well approved, and praised, the better course,  
When her rebellious Sense did so withdraw  
Her feeble powers, as she pursued the worse?   

Did Sense persuade Ulysses not to hear,  
The Mermaids songs, which so his men did please,  
As they were all persuaded through the ear  
To quit the ship, and leap into the seas?   

Can any power of Sense the Roman move,  
To burn his own right hand, with courage sto●  
Can Sense make Marius sit unbound, and prove  
The cruel lancing of the knotty gout?   

Doubtless in Man there is a nature found,  
Beside the Senses, and above them far;  
" Though most men being in sensual pleasures drowned,  
" It seems their Souls but in the Senses are.   

If we had naught but Sense, then only they  
Should have sound minds, which have their senses sound;  
But wisdom grows, when senses do decay,  
And folly most in quickest sense is found.   

If we had naught but sense; each living wight,  
Which we call brute, would be more sharp than we;  
As having Senses apprehensive might,  
In a more clear, and excellent degree.   

But they do want that quick discoursing power,  
Which doth in us the erring sense correct;  
Therefore the be did suck the painted flower,  
And birds of grapes the cunning shadow pecked.   

Sense outsides knows, the Soul through all things sees,  
Sense Circumstance, she doth the substance view;  
Sense sees the bark, but she the life of trees;  
Sense hears the sounds, but she the Concord's true.   

But why do I the Soul and Sense divide?  
When Sense is but a power, which she extends,  
Which being in diverse parts diversified,  
The diverse forms of objects apprehends?   

This power spreads outward, but the root doth grow  
In th'inward Soul, which only doth perceive;  
For th' eyes and ears no more their objects know,  
Than glasses know what faces they receive.   

For if we chance to fix our thoughts elsewhere,  
Although our eyes be open, we do not see,  
And if one power did not both see and hear,  
Our sights and sounds would always double be.   

Than is the Soul a nature, which contains,  
The power of Sense, within a greater power;  
Which doth employ and use the Senses pains,  
But sits and rules within her private bower.   


3 That the soul is more than the temperature of the humours of the body.  If she doth then the subtle Sense excel,  
How gross are they that drown her in the blood?  
Or in the body's humours tempered well,  
As if in them such high perfection stood?   

As if most skill in that physician were,  
Which had the best, and best tuned instrument;  
As if the Pencil neat, and Colours clear,  
Had power to make the Painter excellent.   

Why doth not Beauty then refine the wit?  
And good Complexion rectify the will?  
Why doth not Health bring wisdom still with it?  
Why doth not Sickness make men brutish still?   

Who can in Memory, or wit, or will,  
Or air, or fire, or earth, or water found;  
What Alchemist can draw with all his skill,  
The Quintessence of these out of the mind?   

If th' Elements which have nor life, nor sense,  
Can breed in us so great a power as this,  
Why give they not themselves like excellence,  
Or other things wherein their mixture is?   

If she were but the body's quality,  
Than would she be, with it sick, maimed and blind;  
But we perceive, where these privations be,  
A healthy, perfect, and sharp sighted mind.   

If she the body's nature did partake,  
Her strength would with the body's strength decay;  
But when the bodies strongest sinews slake,  
Than is the Soul most active, quick, and gay.   

If she were but the body's accident,  
And her sole being did in it subsist,  
As white in snow, she might herself absent,  
And in the body's Substance not be mist.   

But it on her, not she on it depends;  
For she the body doth sustain and cherish,  
Such secret powers of life to it she lends,  
That when they fail, then doth the body perish.   

Since then the Soul works by herself alone,  
Springs not from sense, nor humours well agreeing,  
Her nature is peculiar, and her own,  
She is a substance, and a perfect being.   


That the soul is a spirit.  But though this substance be the root of Sense,  
Sense knows her not, which doth but bodies know;  
She is a spirit, and a heavenly Influence,  
Which from the fountain of God's spirit doth flow.   

She is a spirit, yet not like air, or wind,  
Nor like the spirits about the heart or brain,  
Nor like those spirits which Alchemists do found,  
When they in every thing seek gold in vain.   

For she all natures under heaven doth pass;  
Being like those spirits, which Gods bright face do see,  
Or like himself, whose image once she was,  
Though now (alas) she scarce his shadow be.   

Yet of the forms she holds the first degree,  
That are to gross material bodies knit;  
Yet she herself is bodiless and free,  
And though confined, is almost infinite.   


That it can not be a body.  Were she a body, how could she remain  
Within this body, which is less than she?  
Or how could she the world's great shape contain,  
And in our narrow breasts contained be?   

All bodies are confined within some place;  
But she all place within herself confines;  
All bodies have their measure, and their space,  
But who can draw the Souls dimensivelines?   

No body can at once two forms admit,  
Except the one the other do deface;  
But in the Soul ten thousand forms do sit,  
And none intrudes into her neighbour's place.   

All bodies are with other bodies filled;  
But she receives both heaven and earth together,  
Nor are their forms by rash encounter spilled,  
For there they stand, and neither toucheth either.   

Nor can her wide Embracements filled be;  
For they that most, and greatest things embrace,  
Enlarge thereby their mind's Capacity,  
As streams enlarged, enlarge the Channels space.   

All things received, do such proportion take,  
As those things have wherein they are received:  
So little glasses little faces make,  
And narrow webs on narrow frames be weaved;   

Than what vast body must we make the mind?  
Wherein are men, beasts, trees, towns, seas, & lands,  
And yet each thing a proper place doth found,  
And each thing in the true proportion stands?   

Doubtless this could not be, but that she turns  
Bodies to spirits by sublimation strange;  
As fire converts to fire the things it burns,  
As we our meats into our nature change.   

From their gross matter she abstracts the forms,  
And draws a kind of Quintessence from things,  
Which to her proper nature she transforms,  
To bear them light on her celestial wings;   

This doth she, when from things particular,  
She doth abstract the universal kinds,  
Which bodiless, and immaterial are,  
And can be lodged but only in our minds;   

And thus from diverse accidents and acts,  
Which do within her observation fall,  
She goddesses, and powers divine abstracts,  
As Nature, fortune, and the virtues all.   

Again, how can she several bodies know,  
If in herself a body's form she bear?  
How can a Mirror sundry faces show,  
If from all shapes and forms it be not clear?   

Nor could we by our eyes all colours learn,  
Except our eyes were of all colours void;  
Nor sundry tastes can any tongue discern,  
Which is with gross, and bitter humours cloyed.   

Nor may a man of passions judge aright,  
Except his mind be from all passions free;  
Nor can a judge his office well acquit,  
If he possessed of either party be.   

If lastly this quick power a body were,  
Were it as swift as is the wind, or fire,  
(Whose Atoms do th'one down sideways bear,  
And make the other in Pyramids aspire,)   

Her nimble body yet in time must move,  
And not in instants through all places slide;  
But she is nigh, and far, beneath, above,  
In point of time, which thought can not divide.   

She'sis sent as soon to China, as to Spain,  
And thence returns, as soon as she is sent;  
She measures with one time, and with one pain,  
An ell of Silk, and heavens wide spreading Tent;   

As then the Soul a substance hath alone,  
Besides the body, in which she is confined;  
So hath she not a body of her own,  
But is a spirit, and immaterial mind.   

Since body and soul have such diversities, 
That the Soul is created immediately by God.   
Well might we muse, how first their match began;  
But that we learn, that he that spread the skies,  
And fixed the earth, first formed the Soul in man. 
Zach. 12 1.    

This true Prometheus first made man of earth,  
And shed in him a beam of heavenly Fire;  
Now in their mother's wombs before their birth,  
Doth in all sons of men their Souls inspire.   

And as Minerva is in fables said,  
From jove without a mother to proceed;  
So our true jove without a mother's aid,  
Doth daily millions of Minerva's breed.   


Erroneous opinions of the creation of souls.  Than neither from eternity before,  
Nor from the time, when Times first point begun,  
Made he all Souls, which now he keeps in store,  
Some in the Moon, and others in the Sun;   

Nor in a secret cloister doth he keep  
These virgin spirits, until their marriage day;  
Nor locks them up in Chambers, where they sleep,  
Till they awake, within these beds of Clay;   

Nor did he first a certain number make,  
Infusing part in beasts, and part in men,  
And as unwilling farther pains to take,  
Would make no more, than those he framed then;   

So that the widow Soul, her body dying,  
Unto the next borne body married was,  
And so by often changing, and supplying,  
men's souls to beasts, and beasts to men did pass.   

(These thoughts are fond: for since the bodies borne  
Be more in number far, than those that die,  
Thousands must be abortive, and forlorn,  
E'er others deaths to them their soul's supply.)   

But as God's handmaid Nature doth created  
Bodies, in time distinct, and order due;  
So God gives souls the like successive date,  
Which himself makes, in bodies form new.   

Which himself makes, of no material thing;  
For unto Angels he no power hath given,  
Either to form the shape, or stuff to bring,  
From air, or fire, or substance of the heaven.   

Nor he in this doth Nature's service use; 
That the Soul is not traduced from the parents.   
For though from bodies she can bodies bring,  
Yet could she never souls from souls traduce,  
As fire from fire, or light from light doth spring.   

Alas, that some that were great lights of old,  
And in their hands the lamp of God did bear,  
Some reverend Fathers did this error hold,  
Having their eyes dimmed with religious fear!   

For when (say they) by rule of faith we found,  
That every soul unto her body knit,  
Brings from the mother's womb, the sin of kind,  
The root of all the ill she doth commit;   

How can we say, that God the Soul doth make,  
But we must make him author of her sin?  
Than from man's soul she doth beginning take,  
Since in man's soul Corruption did begin.   

For if God make her, first he makes her ill,  
(Which God forbidden our thoughts should yield unto)  
Or makes the body her fair form to spill,  
Which of itself it had no power to do.   

Not Adam's body, but his soul did sin,  
And so herself unto corruption brought;  
But our poor Soul corrupted is within,  
E'er she hath sinned, either in act, or thought;   

And yet we see in her such powers divine,  
As we could gladly think, from God she came;  
Feign would we make him author of the wine,  
If for the dregss we could some other blame.   


The answer to the objection.  Thus these good men, with holy zeal were blind;  
When on the other part the truth did shine,  
Whereof we do clear demonstrations found,  
By light of nature, and by light divine.   

None are so gross, as to contend for this,  
That souls from bodies may traduced be;  
Between whose natures no proportion is,  
When root and branch in nature still agreed;   

But many subtle wits have justified,  
That Souls from Souls spiritually may spring;  
Which (if the nature of the Soul be tried)  
Will even in nature prove as gross a thing.   

For all things made, are either made of naught, 
Reasons drawn from Nature.   
Or made of stuff that ready made doth stand;  
Of naught no creature ever form aught,  
For that is proper to th'Almighties hand.   

If then the Soul another Soul do make,  
Because her power is kept within a bound,  
She must some former stuff or matter take;  
But in the Soul there is no matter found.   

Than if her heavenly Form do not agreed  
With any matter, which the world contains,  
Than she of nothing must created be,  
And to created, to God alone pertains.   

Again, if souls do other souls beget,  
Tis by themselves, or by the body's power;  
If by themselves, what doth their working let,  
But they might souls engender every hour?   

If by the body, how can wit and will  
join with the body only in this act?  
Since when they do their other works fulfil,  
They from the body do themselves abstract?   

Again, if Souls of Souls begotten were,  
Into each other they should change, and move;  
And change and motion still corruption bear;  
How shall we then the Soul immortal prove?   

If lastly Souls did generation use,  
Than should they spread incorruptible seed?  
What then becomes of that which they do lose,  
When th'acts of generation do not speed?   

And though the Soul could cast spiritual seed,  
Yet would she not, because she never dies;  
For mortal things desire their like to breed,  
That so they may their kind immortalize.   

Therefore the Angels, sons of God are named,  
And marry not, nor are in marriage given,  
Their spirits and ours are of one substance framed,  
And have one Father, even the Lord of heaven;   

Who would at first, that in each other thing,  
The earth, and water living souls should breed;  
But that Man's soul, whom he would make their king,  
Should from himself immediately proceed.   

And when he took the woman from man's side,  
Doubtless himself inspired her soul alone:  
For 'tis not said, he did man's soul divide,  
But took flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone.   

Lastly God, being made Man for Man's own sake,  
And being like Man in all, except in Sin,  
His Body from the Virgin's womb did take;  
But all agreed, God formed his soul within.   

Than is the Soul from God; so Pagans' say,  
Which saw by nature's light, her heavenly kind,  
Naming her kin to God, and Gods bright ray,  
A Citizen of heaven, to earth confined.   

But now I feel, they pluck me by the ear,  
Whom my young Muse so boldly termed blind,  
And crave more heavenly light, that cloud to clear,  
Which makes them think, God doth not make the mind.   

God doubtless makes her, and doth make her good, 
Reasons drawn from divinity.   
And graffs her in the body, there to spring,  
Which though it be corrupted, flesh and blood  
Can no way to the Soul corruption bring;   

And yet this Soul (made good by God at first,  
And not corrupted by the Bodies ill)  
Even in the Womb is sinful, and accursed,  
E'er she can judge by wit, or choose by william.   

Yet is not God the Author of her Sin,  
Though Author of her being, and being there,  
And if we dare to judge our judge herein,  
He can condemn us, and himself can clear.   

First God from infinite eternity  
Decreed, what hath been, is, or shall be done,  
And was resolved; that every Man should be,  
And in his turn, his race of life should run.   

And so did purpose all the Souls to make,  
That ever have been made, or ever shall,  
And that their being they should only take,  
In human bodies, or not be at all.   

Was it then fit, that such a weak event,  
(Weakness itself, the sin and fall of Man)  
His Counsel's execution should prevent,  
Decreed and fixed before the world began?   

Or that one penal law by Adam broke,  
Should make God break his own eternal law,  
The settled order of the world revoke,  
And change all forms of things, which he foresaw?   

Can eves weak hand, extended to the tree,  
In sunder rend that Adamantine chain,  
Whose golden links effects and causes be,  
And which to Gods own chair doth fixed remain?   

O, could we see, how cause from cause doth spring!  
How mutually they linked and folded are!  
And hear how often one disagreeing string,  
The harmony doth rather make, then mar!   

And view at once how death by stone is brought,  
And how from death a better life doth rise;  
How this God's justice, and his mercy to light,  
We this decree would praise, as right and wise.   

But we that measure tunes by first and last,  
The sight of things successively do take,  
When God on all at once his view doth cast,  
And of all times, doth but one instant make.   

All in himself as in a glass he sees,  
For from him, by him, through him, all things be;  
His sight is not discursive by degrees,  
But seeing the whole, each single part doth see.   

He looks on Adam, as a root, or well,  
And on his heirs, as branches, and as streams;  
He sees all men as one man, though they devil  
In sundry Cities, and in sundry Realmos;   

And as the root and branch are but one tree,  
And well and stream, do but one river make,  
So, if the root, and well corrupted be,  
The stream and branch the same corruption take;   

So when the root and fountain of mankind,  
Did draw corruption, and Gods curse by sin,  
This was a charge, that all his heirs did bind,  
And all his offspring grew corrupt therein.   

And as when th'hand doth strike, the Man offends,  
(For part from whole, law severs not in this;)  
So Adams sin to the whole kind extends,  
For all their Natures are but part of his.   

Therefore this sin of kind, not personal,  
But real, and hereditary was,  
The guilt whereof, and punishment to all,  
By course of Nature, and of Law doth pass.   

For as that Easy law was given to all,  
To ancestor, and heir, to first, and last,  
So was the first transgression general,  
And all did pluck the fruit, and all did taste.   

Of this we found some footsteps in our Law,  
Which doth her Root from God and Nature take,  
Ten thousand Men she doth together draw,  
And of them All, one Corporation make;   

Yet these and their Successors are but one,  
And if they gain, or lose their liberties,  
They harm or profit not themselves alone,  
But such as in succecding time shall rise.   

And so the Ancestor, and all his heirs,  
Though they in number pass the stars of heaven,  
Are still but one; his forfeitures are theirs,  
And unto them are his advancements given.   

His Civil acts do bind and bar them all;  
And as from Adam all corruption take,  
So if the Father's crime be capital,  
In all the blood, law doth corruption make.   

Is it then just with us, to disinherit  
The unborn Nephews, for the Father's fault?  
And to advance again for one man's merit,  
A thousand heirs, that have deserved naught?   

And is not God's decree as just as ours,  
If he for Adam's sin, his sons deprive  
Of all those native virtues, and those powers,  
Which he to him and to his race did give?   

For what is this contagious sin of kind,  
But a privation of that grace within?  
And of that great rich dowry of the mind,  
Which all had had, but for the first man's sin?   

If then a man on light conditions gain  
A great estate, to him and his for ever,  
If wilfully he forfeit it again,  
Who doth bemoan his heir? or blame the giver?   

So though God make the Soul good, rich and fair,  
Yet when her form is to the body knit,  
Which makes the Man, which Man is Adam's heir,  
justly forthwith he takes his grace from it.   

And then the Soul, being first from nothing brought,  
When God's grace fails her, doth to nothing fall;  
And this declining provess unto naught,  
Is even that sin that we are borne withal.   

Yet not alone the first good qualities,  
Which in the first Soul were, deprived are,  
But in their place the contrary do rise,  
And real spots of sin her beauty mar.   

Nor is it strange, that Adam's ill desert,  
Should be transferred unto his guilty Race,  
When Christ his grace and justice doth impart  
To men unjust, and such as have no grace.   

Lastly, the Soul were better so to be  
Borne slave to sin, than not to be at all,  
Since (if she do believe) one sets her free,  
That makes her mount the higher from her fall.   

Yet this the curious wits will not content;  
They yet will know, (since God foresaw this ill)  
Why his high providence did not prevent,  
The declination of the first man's william.   

If by his word he had the current stayed,  
Of Adam's will, which was by nature free,  
It had been one, as if his word had said,  
I will henceforth, that Man no man shall be,   

For what is Man without a moving mind,  
Which hath a judging wit, and choosing will?  
Now, if God's power should her election bind,  
Her motions then would cease, and stand all still.   

And why did God in man this Soul infuse,  
But that he should his maker know, and love?  
Now if love be compelled, and cannot choose,  
How can it grateful, or thank worthy prove?   

Love must free hearted be, and voluntary,  
And not enchanted, or by Fate constrained;  
Not like that love, which did Ulysses carry  
To Circe's Isle, with mighty charms enchained.   

Besides, were we unchangeable in will,  
And of a wit that nothing could misdeem;  
Equal to God, whose wisdom shineth still,  
And never errs, we might ourselves esteem.   

So that if man would be unvariable,  
He must be God, or like a Rock, or Tree;  
For even the perfect Angels were not stable,  
But had a fall, more desperate than we.   

Than let us praise that Power, which makes us be  
Men as we are, and rest contented so;  
And knowing man's fall was curiosity,  
Admite God's counsels, which we cannot know,   

And let us know that God the maker is  
Of all the Souls, in all the men that be,  
Yet their Corruption is no fault of his,  
But the first Man's, that broke Gods first decree.   

This substance and this spirit of Gods own making,  
Is in the body placed, 
Why the soul is united to the body.  and planted here,  
That both of God and of the world partaking,  
Of all that is, man might the image bear.   

God first made Angels bodiless pure minds,  
Than other things, which mindless bodies be;  
Last he made man th' Horizon twixt both kinds,  
In whom we do the world's abridgement see.   

Besides, this world below did need one wight,  
Which might thereof distinguish every part,  
Make use thereof, and take therein delight,  
And order things with industry, and Art.   

Which also God might in his works admire,  
And here beneath, yield him both prayer and praise,  
As there, above, the holy Angel's Choir  
Doth spread his glory, with spiritual lays.   

Lastly, the bruit unreasonable wights,  
Did want a visible king on them to reign;  
And God himself thus to the world unites,  
That so the world might endless bliss obtain.   

But how shall we this union well express? 
In what manner the soul is united to the body.   
Naught ties the Soul, her subtlety is such;  
She moves the body, which she doth possess,  
Yet no part toucheth, but by virtues touch.   

Than dwells she not therein as in a tent,  
Nor as a Pilot in his Ship doth sit;  
Nor as a Spider in her Web is penned;  
Nor as the Wax retains the print in it;   

Nor as a Vessel water doth contain;  
Nor as one Liquor in another shed;  
Nor as the heat doth in the fire remain,  
Nor as a voice throughout the air is spread.   

But as the fair, and cheerful morning light,  
Doth here and there her silver beams impart,  
And in an instant doth herself unite  
To the transparent Air, in all and part;   

Still resting whole, when blows the Air divide;  
Abiding pure, when th'air is most corrupted;  
Throughout the Air her beams dispersing wide,  
And, when the Air is tossed, not interrupted;   

So doth the piercing Soul the body fill,  
Being all in all, and all in part diffused  
Indivisible, uncorruptible still,  
Not forced, encountered, troubled, or confused.   

And as the Sun above the light doth bring,  
Though we behold it in the Air below;  
So from th'eternal light the Soul doth spring,  
Though in the Body she her powers do show.   


How the Soul doth exercise her powers in the body.  But as the world's Sun doth effects beget,  
diverse, in diverse places every day;  
Here autumns temperature, there Summer's heat.  
Here flowery Springtide, and there Winter grey;   

Here Even, there Morn, here Noon, there Day, there night,  
Melts wax, dries clay, makes flowers some quick some dead;  
Makes the Moore black, & th' European white,  
Th' American tawny, and th' East Indian read:   

So in our little world this Soul of ours,  
Being only one, and to one body tied,  
Doth use on diverse objects diverse powers,  
And so are her effects diversified.   


The vegetarive or quickening power.  Her quickening power in every living part,  
Doth as a Nurse, or as a Mother serve,  
And doth employ her oeconomic Art,  
And busy care, her household to preserve.   

Here she attracts, and there she doth retain,  
There she decocts, and doth the food prepare,  
There she distributes it to every vain,  
There she expels what she may fitly spare.   

This power to Martha may compared be,  
Which busy was, the household things to do;  
Or to a Dryas living in a Tree,  
For even to Trees this power is proper too.   

And though the Soul may not this power extend  
Out of the Body, but still use it there,  
She hath a power, which she abroad doth sand,  
Which views and searcheth all things every where,   

This power is Sense, 
The power of Sense.  which from abroad doth bring  
The colour, taste; and touch, and sent, and sound,  
The quantity, and shape of every thing,  
Within th'earth's Centre, or heavens Circle found.   

This power in parts made fit, fit objects takes,  
Yet not the things, but Forms of things receives;  
As when a Seal in Wax impression makes,  
The print therein, but not itself, it leaves.   

And though things sensible be numberless,  
But only five the Senses Organs be;  
And in those five All things their Forms express,  
Which we can touch, taste, feel, or hear, or see.   

These are the windows, through the which she views  
The light of knowledge which is life's lodestar;  
" And yet whiles she these spectacles doth use,  
" Often worldly things seem greater than they are.   


Sight.  First the two Eyes, which have the Seeing power,  
Stand as one watchman, Spy, or Sentinel,  
Being placed aloft within the Heads high Tower;  
And though both see, yet both but one thing tell.   

These Mirrors take into their little space,  
The forms of Moon and Sun, and every Star,  
Of every Body, and of every place,  
Which with the world's wide Arms embraced are.   

Yet their best object, and their noblest use,  
Hereafter in another world will be,  
When God in them shall heavenly light infuse,  
That face to face they may their Maker see.   

Here are they guides, which do the Body lead;  
Which else would stumble in eternal night;  
Here in this world they do much knowledge read,  
And are the Casements which admit most light:   

They are her farthest reaching Instrument,  
Yet they no beams unto their Objects sand,  
But all the rays are from their Objects sent,  
And in the Eyes with pointed Angles end.   

If th'objects be far off, the rays do meet  
In a sharp point, and so things seem but small;  
If they be near, their rays do spread and fleet,  
And make broad points, that things seem great withal.   

Lastly, Nine things to Sight required are,  
The power to see, the light, the visible thing,  
Being not too small, too thin, too nigh, too far,  
Clear space, and time the form distinct to bring.   

Thus see we how the Soul doth use the Eyes,  
As instruments of her quick power of sight;  
Hence do th'Arts Optic, and fair painting rise;  
Painting which doth all gentle minds delight.   

Now let us hear how she the Ears employs; 
Hearing.   
Their office is the troubled Air to take,  
Which in their Mazes forms a sound or noise,  
Whereof herself doth true distinction make.   

These wickets of the Soul are placed on high,  
Because all sounds do lightly mount aloft;  
And that they may not pierce too violently,  
They are delayed with turns and windings often.   

For should the voice directly strike the brain,  
It would astonish and confuse it much;  
Therefore these plaits and folds the sound restrain,  
That it the Organ may more gently touch.   

As Streams, which with their winding banks do play,  
Stopped by their Creeks, run softly through the plain;  
So in the Ears labrinth the voice doth stray,  
And doth with easy motion touch the brain.   

It is the slowest, yet the daintiest Sense,  
For even the ears of such as have no skill,  
Perceive a discord, and conceive Offence,  
And knowing not what is good, yet found the ill.   

And though this Sense first gentle Music found,  
Her proper object is the speech of men;  
But that speech chief, which Gods herralds sound,  
When their Tongues utter, what his Spirit did pen.   

Our Eyes have lids, our Ears still open we see,  
Quickly to hear, how every tale is proved;  
Our Eyes still move, our Ears unmoved be,  
That though we hear quick, we be not quickly moved.   

Thus by the Organs of the Eye and Ear,  
The Soul with knowledge doth herself endue;  
Thus she her prison may with pleasure bear,  
Having such prospect All the world to view.   

These Conduit pipes of knowledge, feed the mind,  
But th'other three attend the Body still;  
For by their services the Soul doth found,  
What things are to the Body good, or ill.   


Taste.  The Body's life with meats and Air is fed,  
Therefore the Soul doth use the tasting power,  
In Veins, which through the Tongue & Palate spread,  
Distinguish every relish, sweet, and sour.   

This is the Body's Nurse; but since man's wit  
Found thou'rtart of Cookery, to delight his Sense,  
Moore bodies are consumed and killed with it,  
Than with the sword, famine, or pestilence.   

Next in the Nostrils she doth use the smell, 
Smelling.   
As God the breath of life in them did give,  
So makes he now his power in them to devil,  
To judge all Airs, whereby we breath and live.   

This Sense is also mistress of an Art,  
Which to soft people sweet perfumes doth cell:  
Though this dear Art doth little good impart,  
" Since they smell best, that do of nothing smell.   

And yet good scents do purify the brain,  
Awake the Fancy, and the Wits refine;  
Hence old Devotion, Incense did ordain,  
To make men's spirits more apt for thoughts divine.   

Lastly the Feeling power, 
Feeling.  which is Life's root,  
Through every living part itself doth shed,  
By sinews which extend from head to foot,  
And like a Net all o'er the body spread.   

Much like a subtle Spider, which doth sit  
In middle of her Web, which spreadeth wide,  
If aught do touch the utmost thread of it,  
She feels it instantly on every side.   

By touch the first pure qualities we learn,  
Which quicken all things hot, cold, moist, and dry;  
By touch, hard, soft, rough, smooth, we do discern;  
By touch, sweet pleasure, and sharp pain we try.   

These are the outward Instruments of Sense;  
These are the Guards, which every thing must pass,  
E'er it approach the minds intelligence,  
Or touch the Fantasy, wits looking glass.   


The imagination or common Sense.  And yet these Porters which all things admit,  
Themselves perceive not, nor discern the things:  
One Common power doth in the forehead sit,  
Which all their proper forms together brings.   

For all those Nerves, which spirits of Sense do bear,  
And to those outward Organs spreading go,  
United are as in a Centre there,  
And there this power those sundry forms doth know.   

Those outward Organs present things receive,  
This inward Sense doth absent things retain;  
Yet strait transmits' all forms she doth perceive,  
Unto a higher region of the brain.   


The Fantasy.  Where Phantasie, near handmaid to the mind,  
Sits, and beholds, and doth discern them all;  
Compounds in one, things diverse in their kind;  
Compares the black and white, the great and small.   

Besides those single forms, she doth esteem,  
And in her Balance doth their values try,  
Where some things good, & some things ill do seem,  
And neutral some in her fantastic eye.   

This busy power is working day and night;  
For when the outward Senses rest do take,  
A thousand Dreams fantastical and light,  
With fluttering wings do keep her still awake.   

Yet always all may not afore her be; 
The sensative memory.   
Successively she this, and that intends;  
Therefore such forms as she doth cease to see,  
To Memories large volume she commends.   

This Leaguer Book lies in the brain behind,  
Like janus eye, which in his poll was set;  
The lay-man's Tables, Storehouse of the mind,  
Which doth remember much, and much forget.   

Here Senses Apprehension end doth take,  
As when a Stone is into water cast,  
One Circle doth another Circle make,  
Till the last circle touch the bank at last.   

But though the apprehensive power do pause, 
The passions of Sense.   
The Motive virtue than gins to move,  
Which in the heart below doth passions cause,  
joy, grief, and fear, and hope, and hate, and love.   

These passions have a free Commanding might,  
And diverse Actions in our life do breed;  
For all Acts done without true reason's light,  
Do from the passion of the Sense proceed.   

But sith the Brain doth lodge these powers of Sense,  
How makes it in the heart those passion's spring?  
The mutual love, the kind intelligence  
Twixt heart and brain, this sympathy doth bring.   

From the kind heat, which in the heart doth reign,  
The spirits of life do their beginning take;  
These spirits of life ascending to the brain,  
When they come there, the spirits of Sense do make.   

These spirits of Sense in Fantasies high Court,  
judge of the forms of Objects ill or well;  
And so they sand a good or ill report,  
Down to the heart, where all Affections devil.   

If the report be good, it causeth love,  
And longing hope, and well assured joy:  
If it be ill, then doth it hatred move,  
And trembling fear, and vexing griefs annoyed.   

Yet were these natural affections good;  
(For they which want them blocks or devils be)  
If reason in her first perfection stood,  
That she might Natures passions rectify.   

Besides, an other Motive power doth rise 
The motion of life.   
Out of the heart: from whose pure blood do spring,  
The vital Spirits, which borne in Arteries,  
Continual motion to all parts do bring.   

This makes the pulses beat, and lungs respire, 
The local motion.   
This holds the sinews like a bridles Rains,  
And makes the body to advance, retire,  
To turn, or stop, as she them slacks, or strains.   

Thus the Soul tunes the body's Instrument;  
These harmonies she makes with life and sense;  
The organs fit are by the body lent,  
But th'actions flow from the Souls influence.   

But now I have a will, yet want a wit, 
The intellectual powers of the soul.   
To express the working of the wit and will,  
Which though their root be to the body knit,  
Use not the body, when they use their skill.   

These powers the nature of the Soul declare,  
For to man's Soul these only proper be;  
For on the earth no other wights there are,  
Which have these heavenly powers, but only we.   

The wit, the pupil of the Souls clear eye, 
The wit or understanding.   
And in man's world the only shining Star;  
Looks in the mirror of the fantasy,  
Where all the gatherings of the Senses are.   

From thence this power the shapes of things abstracts,  
And them within her passiu part receives;  
Which are enlightened by that part which acts,  
And so the forms of single things perceives.   

But after by discoursing to and fro,  
Anticipating, and comparing things;  
She doth all universal natures know,  
And all effects into their causes brings.   


Reason.  When she rates things, & moves from ground to ground,  
The name of Reason she obtains by this:  
But when by reasons she the truth hath found,  

Understanding.  And standeth fixed, she understanding is.   

When her assent she lighly doth incline  

Opinion.  To either part, she is opinion light:  
But when she doth by principles define  

judgement.  A Certain truth, she hath true judgements sight.   

And as from Senses Reasons work doth spring,  
So many Reason's understanding gain,  
And many understandings, knowledge bring;  
And by much knowledge, wisdom we obtain.   

So, many stairs we must ascend upright,  
E'er we attain to wisdoms high degree;  
So doth this earth eclipse our reason's light,  
Which else (in instants) would like Angels see.   

Yet hath the Soul a dowry natural,  
And sparks of light some common things to see;  
Not being a blank, where naught is writ at all,  
But what the writer will may written be:   

For nature in man's heart her laws doth pen;  
Prescribing truth to wit, and good to will;  
Which do accuse, or else excuse all men,  
For every thought, or practise, good, or ill.   

And yet these sparks grow almost infinite,  
Making the world, and all therein their food;  
As fire so spreads as no place holdeth it,  
Being nourished still, with new supplies of wood.   

And though these sparks were almost quenched with sin,  
Yet they whom that Just one hath justifide;  
Have them increased, with heavenly light within,  
And like the widows oil still multiplied.   

And as this wit should goodness truly know, 
The power of william.   
We have a wit which that true good should choose;  
Though will do often, (when wit false forms doth show.  
Take ill for good, and good for ill refuse.   

Will puts in practice what the wit deviseth; 
The Relation 〈…〉   
Will ever acts, and wit contemplates still,  
And as from wit the power of wisdom riseth,  
All other virtues daughters are of william.   

Will is the Prince, and wit the Counsellor,  
Which doth for common good in Council sit;  
And when wit is resolved, will lends her power,  
To execute, what is advisd by wit.   

Wit is the minds chief judge, which doth Comptroule  
Of fancy's Court the judgements false and vain;  
Will holds the royal Sceptre in the Soul,  
And on the passions of the heart doth reign.   

Will is as Free as any Emperor;  
Naught can restraigne her gentle liberty:  
No Tyrant, nor no Torment hath the power,  
To make us will, when we unwilling be.   


The intellectual memory.  To these high powers a Storehouse doth pertain,  
Where they all Arts and general Reasons lay,  
Which in the Soul, even after death remain,  
And no Lethoean Flood can wash away.   

This is the Soul and those her virtues be,  
Which though they have their sundry proper ends,  
And one exceeds another in degree,  
Yet each on other mutually depends.   

Our wit is given, Almighty God to know;  
Our will is given to love him being known;  
But God could not be known to us below,  
But by his works, which through the sense are shown;   

And as the wit doth reap the fruits of sense,  
So doth the quickening power the senses feed;  
Thus while they do their sundry gifts dispense,  
The best the service of the lest doth need.   

Even so the King his Magistrates do serve;  
Yet commons feed both Magistrate and King;  
The commons peace the Magistrates preserve.  
By borrowed power, which from the Prince doth spring.   

The quickening power would be, and so would rest;  
The sense would not be only, but be well;  
But wits ambition longeth to be best,  
For it desires in endless bliss to devil.   

And these three powers three sorts of men do make;  
For some like plants their veins do only fill;  
And some like beasts their senses pleasure take;  
And some like Angels do Contemplate still.   

Therefore the fables turned some men to flowers,  
And others did with brutish forms invest,  
And did of others make Celestial powers,  
Like Angels, which still travel, yet still rest.   

Yet these three powers are not three Souls, but one;  
As one and two are both contained in three,  
Three being one number by itself alone;  
A shadow of the blessed Trinity.   


An Acclamation.  O what is man (great maker of mankind)  
That thou to him so great respect dost bear?  
That thou adornst him with so bright a mind,  
Makest him a king, and even an Angel's peer?   

O what a lively life, what heavenly power,  
What spreading virtue, what a sparkling Fire,  
How great, how plentiful, how rich a dower,  
Dost thou within this dying Flesh inspire!   

Thou leav'st thy print in other works of thine,  
But thy whole image thou in man hast writ;  
There cannot be a creature more divine,  
Except (like thee) it should be infinite.   

But it exceeds man's thought, to think how high  
God hath raised man, since God a man became;  
The Angels do admire this mystery,  
And are astonished when they view the same.   


That the soul is immortal, and cannot dye.  Nor hath he given these blessings for a day,  
Nor made them on the body's life depend;  
The Soul, though made in time, survives for ay,  
And though it hath beginning, sees no end.   

Her only end, is never ending bliss;  
Which is, th'eternal Face of God to see;  
Who last of ends, and first of causes is,  
And to do this, she must eternal be.   

How senseless then and dead a Soul hath he,  
Which thinks his Soul doth with his body dye?  
Or thinks not so, but so would have it be,  
That he might sin with more security?   

For though these light and vicious persons say,  
Our Soul is but a smoke, or eyrie blast,  
Which during life doth in our nostrils play,  
And when we die, doth turn to wind at last;   

Although they say, come, let us eat and drink,  
Our life is but a spark, which quickly dies;  
Though thus they say, they know not what to think,  
But in their minds ten thousand doubts arise.   

Therefore no heretics desire to spread  
Their light opinions, like these Epicures;  
For so their staggering thoughts are comforted,  
And other men's assent their doubt assures.   

Yet though these men against their conscience strive,  
There are some sparkles in their flinty breasts,  
Which cannot be extinct, but still revive,  
That though they would, they cannot quite be beasts.   

But who so makes a mirror of his mind,  
And doth with patience view himself therein,  
His Souls eternity shall clearly found,  
Though th'other beauties be defaced with sin.   


1 Reason. Drawn from the desire of knowledge.  First in man's mind we found an appetite  
To learn and know the truth of every thing,  
Which is connatural, and borne with it,  
And from the Essence of the Soul doth spring.   

With this desire she hath a native might  
To found out every truth, if she had time  
Th'innumerable effects to sort aright,  
And by degrees from cause to cause to climb.   

But since our life so fast away doth slide,  
As doth a hungry Eagle through the wind,  
Or as a Ship transported with the tide,  
Which in their passage leave no print behind;   

Of which swift little time so much we spend,  
While some few things we through the sense do strain;  
That our short race of life is at an end,  
E'er we the principles of skill attain.   

Or God (which to vain ends hath nothing done)  
In vain this appetite and power hath given,  
Or else our knowledge which is here begun,  
Hereafter must be perfected in heaven.   

God never gave a power to one whole kind,  
But most part of that kind did use the same;  
Most eyes have perfect sight, though some be blind;  
Most legs can nymbly run, though some be lame;   

But in this life no Soul the truth can know  
So perfectly, as it hath power to do;  
If then perfection be not found below,  
An higher place must make her mount thereto.   

Again, how can she but immortal be? 
a. Reason. Drawn from the motion of the Soul.   
When with the motions of both will and wit,  
She still aspireth to eternity,  
And never rests, till she attain to it?   

Water in conduit pipes can rise no higher  
Than the well head, from whence it first doth spring;  
Than since to eternal God she doth aspire,  
She cannot be but an eternal thing.   

" All moving things to other things do move  
" Of the same kind, which shows their nature such;  
So earth falls down, and fire doth mount above,  
Till both their proper Elements do touch.   

And as the moisture which the thirsty earth 
The Soul compared to a River.   
Sucks from the sea, to fill her empty veins,  
From out her womb at last doth take a birth,  
And runs a Nymph along the grassy plains;   

Long doth she stay, as loathe to leave the land,  
From whose soft side she first did issue make;  
She tastes all places, turns to every hand,  
Her flowery banks unwilling to forsake:   

Yet nature so her streams doth lead and carry,  
As that her course doth make no final stay,  
Till she herself unto the Ocean marry,  
Within whose watery bosom first she lay;   

Even so the Soul, which in this earthly mould  
The Spirit of God doth secretly infuse;  
Because at first she doth the earth behold,  
And only this material world she views;   

At first our mother earth she holdeth dear,  
And doth embrace the world and worldly things;  
She flies close by the ground, and hovers here,  
And mounts not up, with her celestial wings.   

Yet under heaven she cannot light on aught,  
That with her heavenly nature doth agreed;  
She cannot rest, she cannot fix her thought,  
She cannot in this world contented be.   

For who did ever yet in honour, wealth,  
Or pleasure of the sense contentment found?  
Who ever seized ' to wish, when he had health;  
Or having wisdom, was not vexed in mind?   

Than as a be which among weeds doth fall  
Which seem sweet flowers, with lustre fresh, & gay,  
She lights on that, and this, and tasteth all,  
But pleased ' with none, doth rise and fore away;   

So when the soul finds here no true content,  
And like Noah's Dove can no sure footing take,  
She doth return from whence she first was sent,  
And flies to him that first her wings did make.   

Wit seeking truth, from cause to cause ascends,  
And never rests, till it the first attain;  
Will, seeking good, finds many middle ends,  
But never stays, till it the last do gain.   

Now God the Truth and first of causes is,  
God is the last good end, which lasteth still,  
Being Alpha and ωmega named for this,  
Alpha to wit, ωmega to the william.   

Sigh then her heavenly kind she doth bewray,  
In that to God she doth directly move;  
And on no mortal thing can make her stay,  
She cannot be from hence, but from above.   

And yet this first true cause, and last good end,  
She cannot hear so well, and truly see;  
For this perfection she must yet attend,  
Till to her maker she espoused be.   

As a King's daughters, being in person sought  
Of diverse Princes, which do neighbour near,  
On none of them can fix a constant thought,  
Though she to all do lend a gentle ear;   

Yet can she love a Foreign Emperor,  
Whom of great worth, and power she hears to be,  
If she be wooed but by Ambassador,  
Or but his letters, or his picture see;   

For well she knows, that when she shallbe brought  
Into the Kingdom, where her spouse doth reign,  
Her eyes shall see, what she conceived in thought,  
Himself, his state, his glory, and his train;   

So while the virgin Soul on Earth doth stay,  
She wooed and tempted is ten thousand ways  
By these great powers, which on the earth bear sway,  
The wisdom of the world, wealth, pleasure, praise.   

With these sometime she doth her time beguile,  
These do by fits her fantasy possess;  
But she distastes them all within a while,  
And in the sweetest finds a Tediousness.   

But if upon the world's Almighty King,  
She once do fix her humble loving thought,  
Which by his picture drawn in every thing,  
And sacred messages her love hath sought;   

Of him she thinks she cannot think too much,  
This honey tasted still, is ever sweet;  
The pleasure of her ravished thought is such,  
As almost here, she with her bliss doth meet.   

But when in heaven she shall his Essence see,  
This is her sovereign good, and perfect bliss,  
Her long, wish, hopes, all finished be,  
Her joys are full, her Motions rest in this;   

There is she Crowned with garlands of content,  
There doth she Manna eat, and Nectar drink;  
That presence doth such high delights present,  
As never tongue could speak, nor heart could think.   

For this the better Souls do often despise 
3 Reason. Fron contempt of death in the better sort of spirits   
The body's death, and do it often desire:  
For when on ground the burdened balance lies,  
The empty part is lifted up the higher.   

But if the body's death the Soul should kill,  
Than death must needs against her nature be;  
And were it so, all Souls would fly it still,  
For Nature hates and shuns her contrary.   

For all things else, which Nature makes to be,  
Their being to preserve are chiefly taught;  
For though some things desire a change to see,  
Yet never thing did long to turn to naught.   

If then by death the soul were quenched quite,  
She could not thus against her nature run;  
Since every senseless thing by Nature's light,  
Doth preservation seek, destruction shun.   

Nor could the world's best spirits so much err,  
If death took all, that they should all agreed,  
Before this life their honour to prefer;  
For what is praise to things that nothing be?   

Again, if by the body's prop she stand,  
If on the body's life, her life depend,  
As Meleager's on the fatal brand,  
The bodies good she only would intent.   

We should not found her half so brave and bold,  
To lead it to the wars, and to the Seas;  
To make it suffer watching, hunger, cold,  
When it might feed with plenty, rest with ease.   

Doubtless all Souls have a surviving thought;  
Therefore of death we think with quiet mind;  
But if we think of being turned to naught,  
A trembling horror in our Souls we found.   


4 Reason. From the fear of death in the wicked souls.  And as the better spirit, when she doth bear  
A scorn of death, doth show she cannot dye;  
So when the wicked Soul deaths face doth fear,  
Even than she proves her own Eternity.   

For when death's form appears, she feareth not  
An utter quenching, or extinguishment;  
She would be glad to mere with such a lot,  
That so she might all future ill prevent;   

But she doth doubt what after may befall;  
For nature's law accuseth her within,  
And saith, 'Tisis true that is affirmed by all,  
That after Death there is a pain for sin.   

Than she which hath been hoodwinked from her birth,  
Doth first herself within Death's mirror see;  
And when her body doth return to earth,  
She first takes care, how she alone shall be.   

Who ever sees these irreligious men,  
With burden of a sickness weak and faint;  
But hears them talking of religion then,  
And vowing of their Souls to every Saint?   

When was there ever cursed Atheist brought  
Unto the Gibbet, but he did adore  
That blessed power, which he had set at naught,  
Scorned and blasphemed, all his life before?   

These light vain persons still are drunk and mad,  
With surfeitings, and pleasures of their youth;  
But at their deaths they are fresh, sober, sad,  
Than they discern, and then they speak the truth.   

If then all Souls both good and bad do teach,  
With general voice, that Souls can never dye;  
'Tisis not man's flattering gloze, but Nature's speech,  
Which like God's oracle, can never lie.   


5 Reason. Fron the general desire of Immortality.  Hence springs that universal strong desire,  
Which all men have of Immortality;  
Not some Few spirits unto this thought aspire,  
But all men's minds in this united be.   

Than this desire of Nature is not vain,  
" She covets not Impossibilities;  
" Fond thoughts may fall into some idle brain,  
" But one Assent of all, is everwise.   

From hence that general care and study springs,  
That launching and progression of the mind,  
Which all men have so much of Future things,  
As they no joy do in the present found.   

From this desire, that main desire proceeds,  
Which all men have, surviving Fame to gain,  
By Tombs, by Books, by memorable Deeds;  
For she that this desires, doth still remain.   

Hence lastly springs Care of posterities,  
For things their kind would everlasting make;  
Hence is it, that old men do plant young Trees,  
The fruit whereof another age shall take.   

If we these Rules unto ourselves apply,  
And view them by reflection of the mind;  
All these true notes of Immortality,  
In our Heart's Tables we shall written found.   

And though some impious wits do questions move,  
And doubt if Souls immortal be or no;  
That doubt their Immortality doth prove, 
6 Reason. Fron the very doubt and disputation of Immortality.   
Because they seem immortal things to know.   

For he which reasons on both parts doth bring,  
Doth some things mortal, some immortal call;  
Now if himself were but a mortal thing,  
He could not judge immortal things at all.   

For when we judge, our minds we mirrors make;  
And as those glasses which material Bee,  
Forms of material things do only take;  
For thoughts or minds in them we cannot see:   

So when we God and Angels do conceive,  
And think of truth, which is eternal to;  
Than do our minds immortal forms receive,  
Which if they mortal were, they could not do.   

And as if beasts conceived what Reason were,  
And that conception should distinctly show,  
They should the name of reasonable bear;  
For without Reason none could reason know.   

So when the Soul mounts with so high a wing,  
As of eternal things she doubts can move;  
She proofs of her eternity doth bring,  
Even when she strives the contrary to prove.   

For even the thought of Immortality,  
Being an act done without the body's aid,  
Shows that herself alone could move, and be,  
Although the body in the grave were laid.   

And if herself she can so lively move,  
And never need a foreign help to take,  
Than must her motion everlasting prove,  
" Because herself she never can forsake.   


That the Soul cannot be destroyed  But though corruption cannot touch the mind,  
By any cause that from itself may spring;  
Some outward cause fate hath perhaps designed,  
Which to the Soul may utter quenching bring.   


●●● cavie ●●●seth ●o.  Perhaps her cause may cease, and she may die;  
God is her cause, his word her maker was,  
Which shall stand fixed for all eternity,  
When heaven and earth shall like a shadow pass.   


She hath no contrary.  Perhaps some thing repugnant to her kind,  
By strong Antipathy the Soul may kill;  
But what can be contrary to the mind,  
Which holds all contraries in concord still?   

She lodgeth heat, and cold, and moist, and dry,  
And life, and death, and peace, and war together,  
Ten thousand fight things in her do lie,  
Yet neither troubleth or disturbeth either.   

Perhaps for want of food the Soul may pine; 
She cannot dye for want of food.   
But that were strange, since all things bad and good,  
Since all God's creatures mortal and divine,  
Since God himself is her eternal food.   

Bodies are fed with things of mortal kind,  
And so are subject to mortality;  
But truth, which is eternal, feeds the mind;  
The tree of life which will not let her dye.   

Yet violence perhaps the Soul destroys; 
Violence not destroy her.   
As lightning or the Sunbeams dim the sight;  
Or as a thunderclap or Cannon's noise,  
The power of hearing doth astonish quite.   

But high perfection to the Soul it brings,  
T'encounter things most excellent and high;  
For when she views the best and greatest things,  
They do not hurt, but rather clear her eye.   

Besides as Homer's Gods 'gainst Armies stand,  
Her subtle form can through all dangers slide;  
Bodies are captive, minds endure no band,  
" And will is free, and can no force abide.   

But lastly, Ti●● perhaps at last hath power  
To spend her lively powers, and quench her light; 
Time cannot destroy her.   
But old God Saturn which doth all devour,  
Doth cherish her, and still augment her might.   

Heaven waxeth old, and all the Spheres above  
Shall one day faint, and their swift motion stay;  
And Time itself in Time shall cease to move;  
Only the Soul survives, and lives for ay.   

" Our bodies every footstep that they make,  
" March towards death, until at last they dye;  
" Whether we work, or play, or sleep, or wake,  
" Our life doth pass, and with times wings doth fly.   

But to the Soul Time doth perfection give,  
And adds fresh lustre to her beauty still;  
And makes her in eternal youth to live,  
Like her which Nectar to the Gods doth fill.   

The more she lives, the more she feeds on truth,  
The more she feeds, her strength doth more increase;  
And what is strength, but an effect of youth?  
Which if time nurse, how can it ever cease?   


Objections against the Immortality of the Soul.  But now these Epicures begin to smile,  
And say, my doctrine is more safe than true,  
And that I fond do myself beguile,  
While these received opinions I ensue.   


1 Objection.  For what, say they, doth not the Soul wax old?  
How comes it then, that aged men do dote?  
And that their brains grow sottish, dull, and cold,  
Which were in youth the only spirits of note?   

What? are not Souls within themselves corrupted?  
How can there Idiots then by Nature be?  
How is it that some wits are interrupted,  
That now they dazzled are, now clearly see?   

These Questions make a subtle Argument, 
Answer.   
To such as think both Sense and reason one;  
To whom nor agent, from the Instrument,  
Nor power of working, from the work is known.   

But they that know that wit can show no skill,  
But when she things in Senses glass doth view,  
Do know, if accident this glass do spill,  
It nothing sees, or sees the false for true.   

For if that region of the tender brain,  
Wherein th'inward sense of fantasy should sit,  
And th'outward senses gatherings should retain,  
By nature, or by chance, become unfit.   

Either at first uncapable it is,  
And so few things or none at all receives,  
Or marred by accident, which haps amiss,  
And so amiss it every thing perceives;   

Than as a cunning Prince that useth Spies,  
If they return no news, doth nothing know;  
But if they make advertizement of Lies;  
The Prince's Counsel all awry do go;   

Even so the Soul to such a body knit,  
Whose inward senses undisposed be,  
And to receive the forms of things unfit,  
Where nothing is brought in, can nothing see.   

This makes the Idiot, which hath yet a mind,  
Able to know the truth, and choose the good,  
If she such figures in the brain did found,  
As might be found, if it in temper stood.   

But if a Frenzy do possess the brain,  
It so disturbs and blots the forms of things,  
As fantasy proves altogether vain,  
And to the wit no true relation brings.   

Than doth the wit admitting all for true,  
Build fond conclusions on those idle grounds;  
Than doth it fly the good, and ill pursue,  
Believing all that this false Spy propounds.   

But purge the humours, and the rage appease,  
Which this distemper in the fancy wrought,  
Than will the wit, which never had disease,  
Discourse, and judge discreetly as it aught.   

So though the clouds eclipse the Sun's fair light,  
Yet from his face they do not take one beam;  
So have our eyes their perfect power of sight,  
Even when they look into a troubled stream.   

Than these defects in Senses organs be,  
Not in the Soul, or in her working might;  
She cannot lose her perfect power to see,  
Though mists, & clouds, do choke her window light.   

These Imperfections than we must impute,  
Not to the Agent, but the Instrument;  
We must not blame Apollo, but his lute,  
If false accords from her false strings be sent.   

The Soul in all hath one Intelligence;  
Though too much moisture in an Infant's brain,  
And too much dryness in an old man's sense,  
Cannot the prints of outward things retain;   

Than doth the Soul want work, and idle sit,  
And this we childishness, and dotage call;  
Yet hath she then a quick and active wit,  
If she had stuff and tools to work withal.   

For, give her organs fit, and objects fair;  
Give but the aged man the young man's sense;  
Let but Medea AEsons youth repair,  
And strait she shows her wont excellence.   

As a good harper stricken far in years,  
Into whose cunning hands the gout is fall;  
All his old Crotchets in his brain he bears,  
But on his harp plays ill, or not at all;   

But if Apollo take his gout away,  
That he his nimble fingers may apply,  
Apollo's self will envy at his play,  
And all the world applaud his minstrelsy.   

Than dotage is no weakness of the mind,  
But of the Sense: for if the mind did waste,  
In all old men we should this wasting found,  
When they some certain term of years had passed.   

But most of them even to their dying hour,  
Retain a mind more lively, quick, and strong,  
And better use their understanding power,  
Then when their brains were warm, & limbs were young.   

For though the body wasted be and weak,  
And though the leaden form of earth it bears,  
Yet when we hear that half-dead body speak,  
We often are ravished to the heavenly Spheres.   

Yet say these men, if all her organs dye, 
2 Objection.   
Than hath the Soul no power her powers to use;  
So in a sort her powers extinct do lie,  
When unto act she cannot them reduce.   

And if her powers be dead, than what is she?  
For since from every thing some powers do spring,  
And from those powers some acts proceeding be,  
Than kill both power, and act, and kill the thing.   

Doubtless the body's death, when once it dies,  
The instruments of sense and life doth kill;  
So that she cannot use those faculties,  
Although their root rest in her substance still.   

But (as the body living,) wit and will  
Can judge and choose, without the body's aid;  
Though on such objects they are working still,  
As through the body's organs are conveyed.   

So when the body serves her turn no more,  
And all her Senses are extinct and gone,  
She can discourse of what she learned before,  
In heavenly contemplations all alone.   

So if one man well on a Lute doth play,  
And have good horsemanship, and learning's skill,  
Though both his Lute and horse we take away,  
Doth he not keep his former learning still?   

He keeps it doubtless, and can use it to;  
And doth both th'other skills in power retain,  
And can of both the proper actions do,  
If with his Lute or Horse he meet again.   

So (though the instruments by which we live,  
And view the world, the body's death do kill;)  
Yet with the body they shall all revive,  
And all their wont offices fulfil.   


3 Objection.  But how till then shall she herself employ?  
Her spies are dead, which brought home news before,  
What she hath got and keeps, she may enjoy,  
But she hath means to understand no more.   

Than what do those poor Souls which nothing get?  
Or what do those which get and cannot keep?  
Like Buckets bottomless, which all out let;  
Those Souls for want of exercise must sleep.   


Answer.  See how man's Soul against itself doth strive;  
Why should we not have other means to know?  
As children while within the womb they live  
Feed by the navel; here they feed not so.   

These children, if they had some use of sense,  
And should by chance their mother's talking hear,  
That in short time they shall come forth from thence,  
Would fear their birth, more than our death we fear.   

They would cry out, if we this place shall leave,  
Than shall we break our tender navel strings;  
How shall we then our nourishment receive,  
Since our sweet food no other conduit brings?   

And if a man should to these babes reply,  
That into this fair world they shallbe brought,  
Where they shall see the earth, the Sea, the sky;  
The glorious Sun, and all that God hath wrought;   

That there ten thousand dainties they shall meet,  
Which by their mouths they shall with pleasure take,  
Which shallbe cordial too, aswell as sweet,  
And of their little limbs tall bodies make,   

This would they think a fable, even as we  
Do think the Story of the golden age;  
Or as some sensual spirits amongst us be,  
Which hold the world to come, a feigned stage.   

Yet shall these infants after found all true,  
Though then thereof they nothing could conceive;  
Assoon as they are borne, the world they view,  
And with their mouths the nurse's milk receive.   

So when the Soul is borne (for death is naught,  
But the Souls birth, and so we should it call)  
Ten thousand things she sees beyond her thought,  
And in an unknown manner knows them all.   

Than doth she see by Spectacles no more,  
She hears not by report of double spies;  
Herself in instants doth all things explore,  
For each thing present, and before her lies.   

But still this crew with questions me pursues: 
4 Objection.   
If Souls deceased (say they) still living be,  
Why do they not return, to bring us news  
Of that strange world, where they such wonders see?   


Answer.  Fondmen if we believe, that men do live  
Under the Zenith of both frozen Poles,  
Though none come thence advertizement to give,  
Why bear we not the like faith of our Souls?   

The Soul hath here on earth no more to do,  
Than we have business in our mother's womb:  
What child doth covet to return thereto?  
Although all children first from thence do come?   

But as Noah's pigeon which returned no more,  
Did show she footing found for all the flood;  
So when good Souls departed through death's door  
Come not again, it shows their dwelling good.   

And doubtless such a Soul as up doth mount,  
And doth appear before her Maker's face,  
Holds this vile world in such a base account,  
As she looks down, & scorns this wretched place.   

But such as are detruded down to hell,  
Either for shame they still themselves retire;  
Or tied in chains, they in close prison devil,  
And cannot come, although they much desire.   


5 Objection  Well well say these vain spirits, though vain it is  
To think our Souls to heaven or hell do go,  
Politic men have thought it not amiss,  
To spread this lie, to make men virtuous so.   

Do you then think this moral virtue good? 
Answer.   
I think you do; even for your private gain;  
For common wealths by virtue ever stood,  
And common good the private doth contain.   

If then this virtue you do love so well,  
Have you no means her practise to maintain,  
But you this lie must to the people tell,  
That good Souls live in joy, and ill in pain?   

Must virtue be preserved by a lie?  
Virtue and Truth do ever best agreed;  
By this it seems to be a verity,  
Since the effects so good and virtuous be.   

For as the Devil father is of lies,  
So vice and mischief do his lies ensue;  
Than this good doctrine did not he devise,  
But made this lie, which saith it is not true.   

For how can that be false, which every tongue  
Of every mortal man, affirms for true? 
The general consent of ●l.   
Which truth hath in all ages been so strong,  
As lodestone-like all hearts it ever drew.   

For not the Christian, or the jew alone,  
The Persian, or the Turk, acknowledge this,  
This mystery to the wild Indian known,  
And to the Cannibal and Tartar is.   

This rich Assyrian drug grows everywhere,  
As common in the North, as in the East;  
This doctrine doth not enter by the ear,  
But of itself is native in the breast.   

None that acknowledge God, or providence,  
Their Souls eternity did ever doubt,  
For all religion takes her root from hence,  
Which no poor naked nation lives without.   

For since the world for man created was,  
(For only man the use thereof doth know)  
If man do perish like a withered grass,  
How doth God's wisdom order things below?   

And if that wisdom still wise ends propound,  
Why made he man of other creatures king?  
When (if he perish here) there is not found,  
In all the world so poor and vile a thing?   

If death do quench us quite, we have great wrong,  
Since for our service all things else were wrought,  
That Daws, and Trees, and Rocks, should last so long,  
When we must in an instant pass to naught.   

But blessed be that great power, that hath us blest,  
With longer life than heaven or earth can have;  
Which hath enfusd into one mortal breast  
Immortal powers, not subject to the grave.   

For though the Soul do seem her grave to bear,  
And in this world is almost buried quick,  
We have no cause the body's death to fear,  
" For when the shell is broke, out comes a chick.   

For as the Souls Essential powers are three, 
Three kinds of life answerable to the three powers of the soul.   
The quickening power, the power of Sense, and Reason,  
Three kinds of life to her designed be,  
Which perfect these three powers in their due season.   

The first life in the mother's womb is spent,  
Where she her nursing power doth only use;  
Where when she finds defect of nourishment,  
Sh'expels her body, and this world she views.   

This we call Birth, but if the child could speak,  
He death would call it, and of nature plain,  
That she would thrust him out naked, and weak,  
And in his passage pinch him with such pain.   

Yet out he comes, and in this world is placed,  
Where all his Senses in perfection be,  
Where he finds flowers to smell, and fruits to taste,  
And sounds to hear, and sundry forms to see.   

When he hath passed some time upon this Stage,  
His reason then a little seems to wake;  
Which though she spring when sense doth fail with  
Yet can she here, no perfect practice make.   

Than doth th'aspiring Soul the body leave,  
Which we call death; but were it known to all,  
What life our Souls do by this death receive,  
Men would it birth, or jail delivery call.   

In this third life Reason will be so bright,  
As that her spark will like the Sunbeams shine,  
And shall of God enjoy the real sight,  
Being still increased by influence divine.   

O ignorant poor man, 
An acclamation.  what dost thou bear,  
Locked up within the Casket of thy breast?  
What jewels, and what riches hast thou there?  
What heavenly treasure in so weak a chest?   

Look in thy Soul, and thou shalt beauties found,  
Like those which drowned Narcissus in the flood,  
Honour, and Pleasure both are in thy mind,  
And all that in the world is counted good.   

Think of her worth, and think that God did mean,  
This worthy mind should worthy things embrace;  
Blot not her beauties with thy thoughts unclean,  
Nor her dishonour with thy passions base;   

Kill not her quickening power with surfeitings,  
Mar not her sense with Sensualities,  
Cast not her serious wit on idle things,  
Make not her free will slave to vanities.   

And when thou thinkest of her eternity,  
Think not that death against her nature is;  
Think it a birth: and when thou goest to die,  
Sing like a Swan, as if thou went'st to bliss.   

And if thou like a Child didst fear before,  
Being in the dark, where thou didst nothing see;  
Now I have brought thee torchlight, Fear no more;  
Now when thou Diest, thou canst not hoodwinked be.   

And thou my Soul, which turnst thy Curious eye,  
To view the beams of thine own form divine,  
Know, that thou canst know nothing perfectly,  
While thou art Clouded with this flesh of mine.   

Take heed of overweening, and compare  
Thy Peacock's feet with thy gay Peacock's train:  
Study the best, and highest things that are,  
But of thyself an humble thought retain;   

Cast down thyself, and only strive to raise  
The glory of thy Maker's sacred name;  
Use all thy powers, that blessed power to praise,  
Which gives thee power to be, and use the same.   
FINIS.