A discourse, CONCERNING INFALLIBILITY IN RELIGION.  
WRITTEN BY SIR KENELME DIGBY, TO THE LORD GEORGE DIGBY, ELDEST son OF THE Earl OF BRISTOL.  
Printed at Paris by PETER TARGA, Printer of the Archbishoppricke.  
M.DC.LII.  
— Nihil dulcius est, bonè quàm in●●nita tenere,  
Edita doctrinâ sapientum templa se●●ena:  
Despicere vnde queas alios, passimque videre  
Errare, atque viam pa●●n●●eis quaerere vit●●.  lucret.  


MY LORD,  
I come now to pay your●● lordship the debt I have owed you ever since our long discourse in one of the sideChappels of S. Germans church; when we spent most part of the afternoon in examining and weighing, which of the several Religions that at present have course in the world, a prudent man should rationally venture his soul upon. It seemed to me that it was not a small ●●●●pe I had advanced in obtaining your assent to the Catholic, when your lordship acknowledged great defects of several kinds, in all others, and that ours, was adorned with more comeliness and majesty, was maintained with more orderliness and prudence, was propped with more powerful means to preserve unity among the professors, and in the general course of it was replenished with more efficacious motives to incite men to the love of God, than any of the others. But withal, you professed that there were some particulars of so harddigestion in it, as you could not win of yourself to yield your assent unto them; Nor were persuade●● that the authority from whence we receive our faith was infallible, but that in all those particulars it had varied and swerved from what in the beginning was taught by Christ and had been preached throughout the world by his Apostles. What I replied hereunto, seemed to your lordship out of the ordinary track of those who now adays use to handle controversies. And it is but just, that to so sublime a wit as yours is, arguments of a higher strain should be offered then such as are pressed to vulgar capacities. For as the ordinary sort of mankind, have their understanding satisfied with barely looking upon God in quality of a judge, that punisheth or rewardeth according as men have obeyed or transgressed his laws: so is the enquiry of what they are to do or believe, at an end, when those unto whose conduct God's providence hath committed them, do pronounce his decrees to them in a legislative way. But so piercing a judgement as yours that knoweth there is an orderly and natural connexion between all causes and their effects, and that suspecteth, not God Almighty of having bound mankind to a mere arbitrary law for the bare showing of his authority and the exercising of their obedience; will not be appayed, without having some scantling of the Why; as well as of the What, you are to do and to believe. Should we therefore apprehend their lot to be the worse, that are endowed with the eminentest talents; since so much labour and pains is necessary to the quieting of their doubts; when as simple people acquiesce so easily to what they are plainly taught? Nothing less. For though it is true, the difficulty be great in overcoming their strong resistance: yet, that once done, the vigorous progress they afterwards make, recompenseth to the full the precedent pains in wrestling with their reluctant imaginations and their opposing reasons. Whereas new storms are easily raised by any cross wind that shall blow upon the others flexible nature. S. Augustine's long irresoluteness, his anxious seeking of truth, and his difficult rendering himself unto it, was followed and crowned with admirable perfection in his own particular, and with unspeakable advantages to the Church of God in general: so as he is the only saint in heaven after S. Paul, that hath the day of his conversion celebrated in the Church. Hence is it that I am not one of those who wonder that your lordship is so long before you come into the fouled that encloseth and secureth us. You were not whom I take you to be, if you should yield up your weapons before you were fully convinced; or be convinced before you have searched into the bottom of the question. To put you into the way of receiving an entire happy defeat in this conflict, I took the freedom to represent unto you such considerations as had been heretofore most prevalent with me, when I had great unquietness in believing what I was taught till my reason was convinced that I should do unreasonably if I gave not my assent thereunto. Not that I am so vain as to think that my proper poor stock can furnish aught that you already abound not more plentifully with. But it hath been my good fortune; (that is to say, God's Grace hath been so merciful to me;) that I have met with a knowing and judicious guide, to lead me through this dark and intricate labyrinth. What I had formerly derived from him for my own satisfaction in this matter, I tendered to you for yours. And wherein I fell short●● by delivering you but a lame copy (according to my mean skill) of so excellent an original, I referred you either to his learned writings or to his fuller conversation. For your lordship knoweth, he beareth you so great respect, that upon any least intimation from you, he would purposely make a journey to you from any remote place to do you service. In the mean time, I endeavoured to take a survey as well as I could of the whole race that Man runneth; from the first moment of his being produced a reasonnable creature, to the last period of his journey, when he is settled for ever in a state of permanency. For in such a subject, the symmetry of the whole, and the due cohoerence of the parts, are of great weight with prudent and solid men. This can not be completely nor orderly done, without first settling firmly the fundamental principle, That man's soul is immortal and incorruptible, and surviveth eternally after the death of te body. In the next place, I applied myself to show, how the different courses of living in this world, do beget in the future, different conditions of happiness or misery, each of them exceeding, beyond all conceivable pr●●portion, the goods or evils of this life. Then, upon consideration of the difficulty, or rather impossibility, for mankind to arrive to the assured knowledge of those paths which are necessary for him to walk in to bring him to Beatitude, that so his steps might be steady and bold ones; I concluded, that since God would have dealed more hardly with mankind then with all other creatures besides, if to every one of them he had assigned due and proportionable means to bring them to the utmost period of their nature, and should have left only him in the dark among inevitable precipes; It was certain he had bequeathed to him a science or art whereby to govern himself and steer his course so as to be able to arrive safely into his wished haven, and to that end which he was created for. And lastly, I urged, that since the men who live in ages after his who taught them this science (which we call Religion) can not be conceived to receive it immediately from hismouth; They would fall back to an ince●●itude and distressed condition equal to the former, if he had not settled as infallible a means to convey entirely to them this science, as in itself it is an infallible guide so bring them to Beatitude. And thence I proceeded to ●●stablish that rule which keepeth us Catholics in unity among ourselves, and in security that we are in the right way.  
This was the scope of our conference then: which comprising so many, so weighty, and so difficult points, that a few hour's conversation was too scanty a time to discuss them as they ought to be; I promised to give your lordship in writing a summary collection of some of the most important reflections I had made upon them. The doing whereof, is the subject of the following discourse.   

THE FIRST CHAPTER  
Of mistaken demonstrations.  
IN this course that I have proposed to myself, my first endeavour must be to prove, that the soul of man is immortal; neither dying when the body dyeth; nor being liable to corruption or destruction after it is severed from the body, either through defectible principles in itself, or by the violence of any outward agent working upon it. I conceive I have fully performed this in a former treatise, that I have written upon this subject. But I may reasonably apprehend that the length of that, and the heap of various arguments cumulated there one upon another, may not obtain from a ●●person so full of great employments as your lordship is, that discussion which belongeth to every one of them in particular, to be secure of the consequence drawn out of them; which requireth greater leisure, than your active and solicitous charges do allow you: And therefore I will here select some few of the chief of those which that treatise aboundeth with; And will endeavour to make them as plain as I can, that the discerning of the demonstration which I conceive is contained in them, may not oblige you to labouring meditation, and metaphysical abstractions (in which no man can fly with a stronger wing than you, when your leisure can allow you the time and quiet of mind that is necessary for such entertainments) But may be obvious to you upon such present reflection as the multitude of your present affairs can afford you. My aim, and hope, is to prove this truth fully and evidently: That is to say, to make a firm demonstration of it; against which no solid opposition can be produced to weaken it; and by which a judicious and subtle understanding shall be fully appayed and quieted. To know when that is done, it will not be amiss (before we enter into the substance of the question) to consider in short, the nature of a true demonstration; that so we may be sure not to be deceived by seeming proofs: which how many or how plausible soever, can but persuade opinion; never force assurance.  
Some there have been, who have thought that a multitude of reasons, may have the force to prove and convince that, which no one of them single, can reach to do. As particularly in our present case; they produce for the soul's immortality, numerous testimonies of great men, both such as have been eminent in natural knowledge, and such as are esteemed for supernatural illuminations; and to these, they add their own moral and natural considerations: for example; that, since it can not be doubted but that God is both wise and just, and consequently will reward or punish every man according as he hath deserved or demerited; and yet we see that such lots do not always betide men in this life; It followeth, that there must be an other life after this here, wherein men shall reap the harvest they have sown upon the earth. Again; That, seeing all creatures who have souls do move themselves; and that no inanimate creature, can do so; It followeth, that the soul is the virtue and principle by which an animal is moved. But if the soul can make an other thing move itself, it cannot be doubted but that she hath in herself the power of moving her own self. Now, life consisting in a thing's moving itself, it is clear that what can do so, hath within itself without the help of aught else, a principle of living; and consequently is not subject to dying. Afterall these, and many more such plausible arguments, they conclude, that howbeit never a one of them alone can be accounted a demonstration, yet all of them in bulk have the strength to convince and quiett a rational man. I will not here examine what force they may have over the understanding of a moral prudent person, who in debates before him useth to inquire no further than whether side is the more gravely and the more learnedly disputed: But most certain it is, that if they come before a subtle metaphysician or a cunning logician, they will fall mainly short. Fo●● when such a one shall have rigorously discussed each particular argument, and shall have found every one of them to be deficient in some regard or other; he will conclude, that no more than many nothings can ever be multiplied so as to make somethings; no otherwise can never so many apparent proofs (which being but such, are in truth no proofs) ever arrive to constitute one real proof.  
Others there are, who fixing themselves upon some one argument, do not consider in it the material nature of it; That is to say, what connexion the medium on which they build their proof, hath with the effect or proposition that they conclude out of it: but only, whither their argument be difficult to be solued, or no. As for example; a person of great eminency and reputation for learning, did use to put the following argument to prove that it was possible for Infinite to have an actual and real being: Namely. There is no inconvenience that God almighty should produce at one instant as many Angels as he can produce in that instant. Suppose then that he doth so. Which if he do, the multitude of them will be greater than any determinate number whatsoever; and consequently, that multitude will be infinite. Therefore an infinite multitude is not impossible. This argument hath perplexed many great wits and learned men: But if we look strictly upon it, we may observe how it it is not formed out of the notion of the subject in question (that is, of infinite) but, out of the quality of God almighty and the logical notion of Possibility: And so, may be a hard argument, but not a demonstration, And will appear to be a fallacy, if one reflecteth that the notion of infinity may agree to a thing in potentia, but not to a thing in Act: And therefore it can not be supposed that God hath done or will do all that he can do. According to which course, if in this question of the soul's immortality, they frame a subtle argument out of what is common to all forms, or out of the nature common to all souls; and withal discern not how it may be untied; They presently persuade themselves they have demonstrated what they intended. Nay, though their discourse be drawn but out of the logical notions of contraries, of antecedents, and consequents, or out of some parity between the subject they treat of and some other they compare it to; they ●●traight flatter themselves with a conceit that they are arrived to science in that point. Not considering, that to know, requireth that one be absolutely certain that his proof be a firm demonstration; and not only, that it be such an implicated Gordian knot, as that neither he himself nor any others he hath yet met with, are able to untie it; but that truly and really, of its own nature, it be impossible to be untied and solued. And ordinarily, they who ground their discourse upon common and remote propositions (as for example, they who use Lullies' art) do unwarily slide over some unsound step between the axiom they rely on, and the conclusion they would infer, which they see not. Whence it happeneth, that such manner of arguing, rather serveth for ostentation, then to acquire true knowledge. And as for such logical terms as we have above mentioned; it seldom happeneth but that they are liable to some aequivocation or other; which quite enerueth the force of any proof derived from them.  
Both these sorts of persons do err in assenting too lightly to an apparent proof, and in taking that for a demonstration which in effect is none. But a third sort there is, who fail on the contrary side; by conceiving that a demonstration is never made, as long as any thing can be urged against the Conclusion proved by it. This ariseth from a great deficiency both of wit and of judgement. Of judgement; because they are not able to discern the evidence of a discourse in itself, but are fain to look into external accidents to frame their opinion of it. And of wit; in that they observe not how the force and subtlety of man's wit is so great, as to speak (and that, most ingeniously too) in opposition of such things as are most manifest. Zeno, even whiles he walked with him that he disputed with, would be thought have to demonstrated that it was impossible any thing could be moved in the world from one place to another. Anaxagoras was as peremptory that snow was black. We find ingenious Orations and whole books, whose scopes are to extol the greatest defects and blemishes of nature, as baldness, lameness, blindness, unreasonableness, and the like. What can be more evident than that 2. and 2. do make 4? yet Aristotle telleth us, that 2. and 2. are are two distinct numbers; and that 4. is but one number; and consequently, that 2. and 2. are not 4. And to conclude, the academics or sceptikes have laboured with much industry to take away all certainty. He were a weak man that would retain his assent from an evident conclusion as long as subtle or cavilling disputants do catch at ought to oppose against it. But a judicious person, when he seeth a solid demonstration upon any subject, is not at all shaken by any thorny difficulties that acute sophisters endeavour to implicate him in; which though at the first sight they may a while perplex him; yet he is sure that with orderly reflection and due attention to every joint and progress of their arguments, they are to be unfolded and displayed, and the inconsequence of them to be made appear.   

THE SECOND CHAPTER.  
Of the true nature of demonstration.  
THat than which importeth us mainly not to err in, is in iduging when a perfect demonstration is produced. The true nature of such a proof requireth, that it make the reader or the hearer see evidently that the conclusion is directly so as the demonstrator avoucheth it to be, and that it is impossible it should be otherwise. Neither have we reason to suspect that this can not be performed as well in other sciences as in Geometry; Seeing that there are definitions in all sciences as well as in it; and that the terms of these definitions are linked together: And therefore it is obvious, that one conclusion maybe evidently and demonstratively drawn out of another. This can not happen in a scientifical discourse, unless that which is taken to prone, be either the cause or the effect of that which is proved. But if there be any failure in either of these, than the demonstration can not be a perfect one. And though in substance it should not be deficient; yet at the least it would be superproportioned on one side, and not according to the strict rules of art; which requireth that every truth be proved by his proper cause. As for example; if Rationality, of its own nature, and out of the force of Rationality, be the cause of immortality; It followeth evidently that whatsoever is rational is immortal. And contrariwi●●e; if Immortality, precisely by being such, do make the subject unto which it belongeth, to be rational; It followheth that nothing can be immortal but it must also be rational. So that if either of these be so, he who considereth these two terms, seeth clearly that of necessity●● both of them must belong to what subject soever he findeth either of them to reside in; And why it is so; and that it is impossible it should be otherwise. But if a third thing or term, be cause of both; or be the cause of the one and be caused by the other; then the demonstration is mediate, and as it were a double one: As, if immateriality be the adequate cause both of rationality and of immortality; it is evident that whatsoever is rational is immortal. But where the one side is superproportioned; the proof, though in substance it be true, yet is it not a proper and a perfect one. As for example; if one should prove any thing to belong to a man because he is a sensible creature; the effect, though it be in him, yet is it not peculiar to him, but common to all irrational animals as well as to him. Such were the considerations that I had when I composed the two treatises out of which I concluded the immortality of man's soul. For in them, this is the scope of my discourse: Corporeity and mortality, are adequate to one another; the first as cause, the second as effect: But a rational soul, is not corporeal: Therefore, not mortal. The subsumption I made evident, by showing, that all operations whatsoever among bodies, are performed by the disposure of gross and subtle, or of dense and rare, parts; and that what can not be effected by such, is not the operation of a body. For, the nature of a body (in as much as it is a body) is nothing else but to be a thing capable of division; or, that hath a possibility of being made many (which amounteth to as much, as to be liable to destruction; since the division of the parts that do essentially compose any thing, is the destruction of it.) And the origidall difference of bodies, is, that some are more subject to such division, that is are more easily divided; others with greater difficulty; which resulteth merely out of the parts being grosser or subtler. So that, seeing the very essence of a body is, to be a collection of such parts; It is evident that what can not be performed by such parts, is beyond the orb of sole and mere bodies, and cannot be achieved by them. It is true, that in all the first treatise, which is of the nature of Bodies, I have neither established nor made any mention of this Principle; but have reserved it to the second, where I make use of what is settled in the former to discover the nature of the soul: And the reason why I have done so, is, because the slight mock-philosophy of this Age, not reaching to comprehend the true difference between a body and a spirit, easily swalloweth spiritual qualities in bodies, and as familiarly attributeth corporeal proprieties to spirits: And therefore I was obliged to run briefly over the nature of all bodies, and to show how all their operations (Even the most refined ones, and that savour most of a spiritual nature) may be performed by the mere disposition of gross and subtle parts; there by to prevent the objections that might be made me from such corporeal actions as vulgar Philosophy dispatcheth like spiritual ones. And I thought is not sufficient for a judicious reader's satisfaction, to do this only by bare casting a composition in the air; as Monsieur des Cartes & some others have very ingeniously attempted to do: but I have endeavoured to strengthen the proofs rising from the force of discourse, by accompanying them with such further observations as do clearly evince that whither or no I hit right on all the particular lines that I trace out for the performance of those actions, yet it can not be doubted but that their causes are comprised under those heads I have there established; and that the ways by which they are brought to effect, are not unlike, (if not the very same) to those that I have pitched upon. This being the ●●orke of the first treatise; The second looketh into the operations of a rational soul; And having discovered their nature, it showeth that they can not be performed by the mere disposition and ordering of gross and subtle parts of quantity or of a body; and by consequence, that they proceed from an immaterial and spir●●tuall substance. Now here, use is made of the former principle: for, it being made evident, that nothing but corporeity and divisibility is the cause of corruption, and of subiecting the things where they reside to the servitude of Mortality; it followeth indefectibly, that the spiritual substance which we call a soul, can not be mortal and corruptible. This is the whole scope and discourse of that book: out of which, for the reasons I have already touched, I will here select only three of the proofs contained in the latter treatise, to show that our soul is a spirit, void of all quantity and materiality.   

THE THIRD CHAPTER.  
The Immateriality of the soul proved out of the Nature of universal terms or Pr●●posi●●ions.  
THE first of them is drawn out of the nature of universal terms or Propositions. Logicians do define an universal term or Notion, To be that, which being the same, may be aff●●rmed of many. Metaphysicians define it to be, Somewhat that is the same in many. But to speak more familiarly to common sense, we may say, That it is, somewhat which is any of m●●ny. For when we say, Peter is a man, John is a man, and Paul is a man; If Peter and man be not the same thing, the saying is false: And the like is of every one of the other two; to wit, if John, or Paul, be not a man. Again; seeing that one man is not two men; If when I say, Peter is a man, the thing which I say of Peter were the same thing which is John; Such my saying would also be false; for, Peter would be Peter and John too, by being the man which is both Peter and John. The notion therefore of Man, which is truly reported both of Peter and of John; is not both Peter and John; but either Peter or John. And this is that which we call an universal. This being hitherto evident, the demonstration proceedeth thus: We see that the thing which we call Peter or John; doth get, by being in the soul, to be a thing that is either Peter or John: But this condition or quality, to be either this or that, or to be a thing that is either this or that; can not be had or gotten by the nature of a body, or by the disposition of subtle and gross parts: Therefore, the soule●● in, and by which, it getteth this condition; is of a different nature from Bodies. If here any one should answer me, that howsoever our words may seem unto him who shall stick and criticise upon them, to import that there is a notion in our mind, when we speak them, correspondent to those words; which notion is no one of the subjects it is affirmed of, and yet is common to them all: nevertheless, if he look carefully into his mind, he shall find that in truth there is no nature of universality there. For if he examine what picture he hath in his brain when he reflecteth upon the notion of a man which he calleth an universal; he shall find there the image of some particular and determinate man; and no such thing as a man in common. To such a person as should say thus, I might reply, that to endeavour satisfying him with a long discourse, might seem as ill placed pains as if I should go about to prove with learned arguments, that there are such bodies in the world as men call fire, water, earth, and the like. For every man's senses of seeing and feeling, that are not depraved and corrupted, do assure him that they are, and that he continually is conversant with them. In like manner, it is as evident to every man who hath common sense and reason, and who reflecteth upon what passeth in his understanding when he speaketh suc●● propositions, or considereth such terms, as we have even now insisted upon; That indeed there is an universality in them. And therefore, if he be so unhappy and short sighted, as not to discern in his own mind, that which common and continual experience enforceth every rational man who looketh into the nature of understanding and discourse, to own and confess; he should, in speculations of this nature, content himself with believing the multitudes of others who are capable of judging of them (as blind men, aught to rely upon those whose eyes are not vitiated, in matter of colours) and not hazard his actions and his eternal welfare (which dependeth of his actions in this life) upon his own sudden and slight conceit, in a matter whereof he hath no skill: As they do, who to justify the strength of their wits, will not only speak and argue, but also live, as though they believed there where no life for the soul after the body's death. But to be more indulgent to him then so; I shall desire him to examine his instance, and to consider, that as when a square (for example) or a triangle delineated upon paper, is proposed unto a Mathematician to look upon, there by to discuss some geometrical proposition; though that square or triangle there drawn, be a particular determinate one, so and so formed, of such and such precise dimensions in each line and angle, and the like: yet the figure that is in his head, abstracteth from all those particular circumstances that accompany either of these upon the paper, and agreeth to any square or to any triangle imaginable, be their lines never so long or short, or drawn with red ink or with black, &c. In the same manner, that corporeal figure of a man which appeareth to our reflection and resideth in our fantasy, is not the notion of a man that we here mean and speak of. But it is evident to any one who shall look heedfully into his understanding, that from the particular picture of some one man which his fantasy representeth to him, his understanding hath gathered and framed a large notion of man in general, which is applicable and indifferent to every particular individualll man. As is evident, if we look into our own meaning and intention, and consider what will satisfy us; as when (for example) I stand in need of some one of my servants to do some thing about me and therefore do call or ring a bell for some of them to come to me; which soever of those that wait without, cometh in, my turn is served and I am satisfied. In like manner, if a tenant is to pay me ten pounds; It is alone to me, whither he bringeth it in half crowns or in shillings or in six pences. And therefore it is evident that my intention aimeth no further than at a common notion; and that I know so much. Now, my intention being regulated by my apprehension preceding it; it is clear that my apprehension is also of the like nature; that is to say, it is indifferent and common to any one in particular. It may be further objected, That from the apprehending of a thing which is indifferent to many, it can not be deduced that the apprehending nature is not corporeal but spiritual: for when we look upon an object a far off, before we can distinguish enough particulars of it, we are irresolute what it is; whither (for example) it be a horse, or an ox: And yet no man will infer out of such indifferency that the eye in which it is, is a spirit and not a body. To this I answer, that the supposition is a false one; there is no such indifferency in the eye as is intimated: all that is there, is precisely determinate: For, the whole object, and every part of it, concurreth to the making of the picture in the eye; and consequently there must needs be in the eye a representation of the whole and of every minute part of it; which is, a complete determination of it. Whence it appeareth, that the indetermination we have of the object, is seated merely in the understanding; which judgeth it but imperfectly, by reason of the weak though entire picture that the object hath imprinted in the eye. And accordingly, a painter that were to draw that object at that distance, must comprise it within such lines as the eye receiueth from it. But that which in this case is indistinct and indifferent, is our knowledge, which resideth in our mind. For, it not being able to determine by the figure that the eye sendeth to the fantasy, whither it be of an ox or of a horse; remaineth suspended, with an indifferency to attribute it either to the one or to the other. It may be further urged; that such indifferency of our soul's thoughts, is no argument of her being a spirit: for if it were, spiritual substances would be accompanied with such indifferency: the contrary whereof●● is evident; seeing that no angel (for example) can be either Michael or Gabriel; but is precisely such a one determinate angel, distinguished from all others. To this I answer, that I do not urge such indifferency as a condition proper to spirits. For, in truth, they are more determined then bodies, by reason of their indivisibility. The which is seen in these very notions; that are more determined than the bodies from whence they are drawn, merely because they are in a spiritual subject. But by this indifferency in the understanding, springing from a determinate object; and by such transformation there, of corporeal natures, to a quite different manner of being than they are in themselves; I gather a different nature (that is, a spiriturll one) in the subject where they are thus transformed. For, that bodies can be in our mind (as they are when we think of them) notwithstanding such indifferency (which accordeth not with their na●●ure) is an evident freeing of the mind from corporeal bonds.  
Now, that such a nature as this, of indifferency to distinct and different things; can neither be in itself corporeal, nor be represented by bodies or by subtle and gross parts variously disposed; is so evident that it were a vain labour to go about to prove it. The mere casting of our eyes upon material things, convinceth it, without needing further discourse. We can not conceive a chair, a knife, a house, a metal, a plant, an animal, or any visible thing what soever, to be in itself without an actual termination. No Statue, no picture, no manufacture, nor ought in the world (excepting intellectual expressions) can be imagined to be, without its being con●●ined in all determination to such other bodies as comprise, environ, & beset it. Whosoever can doubt of this, is incapable of any evidence. And consequently, where we see an abstraction from all determination, and such an indifferency as we speak of; we may securely conclude, that the subject where it is made and where it resideth, and whence it hath it, is not of kin to bodies, but is immaterial and spiritual.   

THE IV. CHAPTER.  
The Immateriality of the soul, proved out of the nature of understanding.  
THE second proof of our soul's immateriality and spirituality, I derive from her manner of operation when she understandeth any thing. That which she than doth, is to compare the thing by her understood, with some other; and by the relation or respect that is between them, she knoweth the nature of that thing which she so considereth or compareth. So that we may conclude the particular prerogative of a soul is, to have or rather to be, a power of comparing one thing to another. And in truth, if we look well into the matter, we shall perceive that the notion which we frame of her under this consideration, compriseth all her whole negotiation. For, when the notion of Existence or being is once imprinted in the soul, all others what soever are nothing else but respects to being. Thus, when we consider what that is which we call a thing; we find, it is that which hath Being; or which can have Being. The Quantity of a thing, is, what respect a determinate thing hath to the Being of the world; which in plainer terms is, how much such a thing taketh up of the extension that stretcheth out or that belongeth to the great bulk of what is corporeal. The Quality of a thing is, what relation or respect it hath to other things that are of its own nature and line. The other seven predicaments, or Classes of notions, are manifestly comparative betwixt divers things considered together: All which I have so fully explicated in the second part of my discourse of the Immortality of the soul, and is in itself so plain; that I will not enlarge myself further upon it here, where for your sake I am as succinct as I can; referring you to that, if you should desire further explication of this matter. Now these ten ranks, or rather general heads, of notions, comprising all the things and creatures that are or may be in the world; and they being all of them comparative, and nothing but respects of one thing to an other: And all the working of our soul, being grounded upon her notions: It followeth evidently, that all her notions being comparisons and respects, her nature must necessarily be the power of comparing or of making respects. Which how plain soever it be in these notions of her first operation or of single apprehensions; It is yet clearer in her second operation of deeming, judging, or knowing. For, this is nothing else but a comparing of one notion to an other, and of compounding them together: As when we say, the wall is white, or aman is a reasonnable creature, we look upon the notions that we have of the extremes, and consider what respect they have to one an other; and do find that they are united and identified between themselves by the force of being. The very same that we find of this second operation of our soul, belongeth to her third; which is but a multiplication of her second: for, discourse is noething else but a double or a treble composition; which being taken in pieces, every one of them is a Iudgement●● or enunciation: and consepuently, the work of comparing which is performed in a judgement, is but multiplied or repareaed in a discourse From these three operations of the soul, do spring her affections within herself, and her proceeding to action without her. For, according to the apprehensions she maketh of things, and to the judgements that she formeth of them by comparing some of those notions among themselves, and to the consequences she draweth out of a further composition of judgements; she is affected with a liking or with a dislike of them: and accordingly, proceedeth to action for the acquiring or repelling of them. Beyond this, our soul neither doth nor can do any thing. All her whole negotiation is comprised within these limits. And in all this, there appearing nothing but a power of comparing and of referring one thing to an other, It is most evident that the nature of comparisons and of respects must necessarily be the nature of a soul, And that she is nothing else but a thing or a power of making Respects.  
Let us then in the next place consider what a respect is. Hath it any dimensions? do any colours make it visible? doth any figure or shape belong to it? doth it take up any place? Or is it measured by time? All these things do necessarily accompany a body: And whatsoever is a body, is affected by every one of them. But a respect, we find hath neither length nor breadth, nor is white or red or green, nor is square or round, hath no dependence of time, and is so far from taking up place or filling of room, that unless both the terms which we consider as respective to one another, be indivisibly together, there is no nature of respect between them. Thus, in the respect of likeness; if you leave out one of the terms on which the comparison is grounded, likeness vanisheth; it is lost. This square which resembleth that other square, or this white wall which in being white is like to that other white wall; if you lay a side the other square and the other white wall, likeness is gone, and there remaineth nothing but a square figure, or a white wall. None of the Qualities or properties which inseparably accompany bodies, have any thing to do with this notion, to be like. It is every way indivisible. If we ask our senses, they will tell us, that it is neither white nor black, nor hot nor cold, nor smooth nor rugged, nor sweet nor sour, nor of any other qualification that they are capable of discerning. And when we turn to our inward judgement, we shall find that all these things and what soever can affect our senses, are Respects. So that however our senses have cognition of objects by a material participation of them, our mind knoweth nothing but by respects, nor can acquire any knowledge but by them; and therefore, to be able to know any thing, she presently turneth it into respects; And by doing thus, she is capable of knowing all things. For, respects do not hinder one an other. Bodies do exclude other bodies, from the place they possess and fill. But respects, are so far from shouldering out one an other, that they rather infer and draw in one an another. And hence it is, that nothing can escape the knowledge of a soul, if she were not clogged by her body.  
Now, to make use of what we have here explicated of the souls working by respects; and of the nature of a respect; let us return to our Principle, that what soever is done among bodies, is performed by the disposition of gross and subtle parts; and examine, what disposition or ordering of such parts, can make a respect. We see well, that the things which are compared and are respective to one an other, have parts. The wall that is like to an other wall, hath parts: And that other wall to which this is like, hath also parts: But all that which their parts can effect about each of them, is but to make them be white, It is not they that make their likeness. What new parts must there be added, or how must these that are already there be placed and ranked, to make the walls like? My eye seeth each of them to be white, and my hand feeleth each of them to be rough: yet neither my eye nor my hand determineth them to be like. But my understanding, which neither toucheth nor seeth them; yet by comparing the one of them to the other; findeth them to be like, which their generation did not make them to be. So strange and so different from the nature of bodies is the nature of the soul.  
●● I will not be so prodigal of your lordship's time, or so abuse your patience, as to apply myself here to answer a slight objection that may be made from the petty apprehensions of some modern Philosophers of the schools, who conceire, that as well gross bodies as the sub●●iler soul are stored with respects; and consequently, that according to what I have said, those bodies should be immaterial, and spirits: which being evident that they are not, the souls being stored with like respects, can not be an argument of her immateriality. Thus, when they explicate the nature of gravity (for example) they tell us, it is a quality whose nature is to have a respect to the centre of the world: When they teach us what the power of seeing in an eye is; they tell us as gravely as if they bettered our knowledge much, That it is a quality, whose nature is to have a respect to the animals action of seeing. When they explicate what it is to be in a place, they tell us it is an entity in the thing placed; whose nature is to be a respect to the thing (or to the nothing, if you please; when they will have it be in Spatio imaginario) that is called Place. And the like empty imaginations, by which they confound the common notions of things, making all predicaments to be relations, and affixing to them a surname of transcendental. For, such discourses are so wretched and so pitiful ones, that I think a neglect is fitter for them here, then in disputing against them to lose time, which should be better spent: Especially to your lordship, whose sharp eyes wi●●l at the first sight look through the inanity and vacuity of them.   

THE V. CHAPTER.  
The Immateriality of the soul, proved out of her manner of knowing objects without her.  
THe third proof of our soul's spirituality, I deduce from her manner of knowing the objects that are out of her. For the better explication of this point, I will make use of a corporeal example; which howbeit it falleth far short of the wonderful operation of the soul in this particular, yet it will conduce much to the illustration of it. Be pleased to reduce into your remembrance (my Lord) how you and I coming one morning into a fair Ladies chamber, (I am sure you will not have forgotten, not be to seek, whom I mean) we surprised her so attentive upon her looking glass, as if she had been discoursing with the fair image that she contemplated there. She was so pleased with gazing upon that beautiful resemblance which herself made, as for a while she scarce took notice of our being at each hand of her: by which means we enjoied as well as she, the same pleasing sight; till her civility making her turn from it towards us, bereaved us of that picture, which our eyes must have been losers to have changed for any other object but the original that she then showed us. And even then, looking upon her face, how lovely soever it was; our eyes could discern no advantage it had, of the fair picture in the glass; so exactly was it drawn. Now if we ask the vulgar Philosophers of the schools, how this so lively and so like representation of this Ladies face was made in the glass they will tell us, that the superficies or out side of that crystalline body, was imbued, or as it were tincted and dyed into the very substance of it, with a certain representative quality, whose nature is to make it be like unto the object or imbuing beauty opposed before it; in such sort, and as truly, as the quality of whiteness maketh a wall white, or as quantity maketh a body become great. Now, because likeness is defined, to be an imperfect unity between two objects that are like one an other (for, likeness is ever accompanied with some unlikeness; else, they would be no longer like, but the same) we may safely say, that as far as the looking glass agreeth by its likeness, without any disagreement, to the object that it is like unto; so far, the glass is the very object itself. Hitherto, I have borrowed the assistance of the ordinary explication how Images are formed in looking glasses: which how erroneous soever it may be in them; yet being translated to our minds, it will find there the truth which was from thence wrongly translated to bodies. For, even they as well as we, do use to say (as Aristotle teacheth us) that th●● soul ●●s its objects; that is, she is all things, by knowledge. For, knowledge is not made in the soul by addition of several new entities, that joined to her do become the parts of a new compound: But must necessarily be a true impression made in her; that is, herself new stamped; And is as truly the very same thing with the soul itself, as the figure left by a seal, is the very wax itself, (newly modified) in which it is impressed. And therefore it cannot be denied but that the soul is truly the object she understandeth, as far forth as the object is by her truly understood. And accordingly, we see that a person who hath a right understanding of any thing, doth make use of that thing in such sort as is fitting and agreeable to the nature of it; applying to it what is requisite to be applied, and removing from it what is fit to be removed: so taking the knowledge which he hath of the nature of that thing (that is, the thing itself, as far forth as he hath right knowledge of it) for a principle by which to operate; that is, for his instrument, or for a part of his power of working. Now, because this instrument, this principle this knowledge, by which ●●he soul worketh when she hath occasion to use it, is truly and really the knowing thing itself (that is, the soul) it is clear, that by such knowledge the knowing thing is truly the thing known; and the thing known, is truly a part of the knowing thing. If barely thus much, would suffice, without any further addition, to denominate or affix the attribute of kn●●wing unto a thing wherein we find this performed; we might with reason esteem a looking glass, or any material sense of an animal (which in like manner receiueth material impression from an outward object) to know, or to be a knowing thing. But when we proceed a degree further, and examine what more than this is in a soul when she knoweth any thing, we shall find that whereas the first is nothing else but that a likeness of an outward object is in the glass or sense which receiueth it; A man, when he hath knowledge of an object, doth know, besides the likeness of the object within him, that the thing he knoweth is without him. For example; one who heareth a bell ring; knoweth, that the bell is not only within himself by the cognition he hath of it; but also, that it is out of him too; to wit, in the steeple by its proper Essence & existence. This further addition then, to the bells being within him, that the bell hath a proper Essence and Existence in nature (that is; that the bell is, or is a thing) is that which belongeth to knowledge; and denominateth the man in whom it passeth, with the attribute of kn●●wing, or of being a knower. And this is not in the looking glass. For although it is true, that the outward object is in the looking glass, as far forth as it is not unlike to its picture there, or as it is the same with it, and that the object without, smiteth and impresseth this likeness in the glass: Yet all this, amounteth not, to make the looking glass equal to a man in point of kowledge; for this regard, that the object's being out of the looking glass, is not in the glass; whereas, the bell's being in the steeple, is in him that hath the bell in him by hearing it ring. And the like to this, is in the senses of beasts: who having within them no understanding, unto which the object may penetrate, their senses do serve them but like burning glasses, that multiplying by their virtue the force of light, refracting through them, do set on fire some thing behind them: for the senses of the beast strengthening and increasing the action of the object that striketh upon them, do set on working those more inward gimmals which nature hath prepared within them for the conservation and good of that living creature. Now the use we are to make of this discourse, is, to examine whither this odds which a knowing soul hath over a representing looking glass, can be reduced to the disposition and ordering of gross and subtle parts; which is all the way & course by which material effects are wrought. And in steed of that, even nature herself presently suggesteth unto us, that for nothing is more impossible than for the same body to be at the same time in two different places. But in our case there is yet a greater impossibility than that, to be performed by mere bodies: for it is not only employed that the body of the bell which is in the steeple, be in the brain of him that heareth it ring; but also that its very being in the steeple, be at the same time in the hearer. Which is a far more uncouth matter then the former (though that be impossible too) t●● be wrought by bodies. For, if its being in the steeple do include tha●● it is not corporeally in the soul; then, its being in the soul dot●● bring along with it that it is no●● corporeally in her; and consequently, that in her it hath not a corporeal existence. Now if any Archimedes or Archytas or subtle Ingenieur, can design such an order 〈◊〉 material phantasms in the braine●● or such a dance of animal spirits, a●● merely by them to make this b●● thus in the knower; I will acknowledge, that the part of him where●● by he knoweth, (that is, his soul) is material and a body. But because●● that is all together impossible, i●● can not be doubted but that she is a●● immaterial & a spiritual substance●●  
If any man shall object against me, that this knowing of an object to be without the knower, at the same time that by his senses it i●● brought into him; is no particular prerogative of a man: but is common to all beasts with him; uho we see move themselves to or from the objects that they see or hear, in the same manner as a man doth; And yet for all that, their souls are not immaterial: I shall not make difficulty to answer, that if this could be proved to me, I would conclude their souls to be immaterial, and consequently immortal, as well as men's. But the truth is; they mistake much in making such judgement of beasts actions: they pronounce too suddenly, without examining as they ought from what principles such actions proceed: they are carried away by the outward likeness of gestures and behaviours between beasts and men, not considering how the one are determined unresistably to what they do, by the outward objects working upon them; and that the others do determine themselves by their own election: All which I have at large explicated in my often mentioned book, where I treat of the operations of beasts. Let them call to mind how many and how strange things we hear of, made with such a ressemblance of life that the beholder an scarce doubt of their being living creatures unless he were warned of it before hand; and yet, they are nothing but dead pieces of wood, iron, leather, feathers, and the like artificially composed; and the springes within them, wound up, and then let loose. As Archytas his dove, and Regiomontanus his like curiosities were; some of which even imitated exactly human voice and words. As also is delivered to us by antiquity, of Memnon's statue, that gave Oracles when the morning sun first shined upon his eyes; his priests having in the night time ordered the engines within, in such sort that such sounds and words should break out of his mouth at the appearing of the sun. The like of which Monsieur des Carres was confident he could have produced: and I believe that Cornelius Dreble would have performed the like if he had been sert about it, as well as he composed his organs that when the sun shined upon them played such songs as he had contrived within them. And the inventions of statues moving themselves in divers postures and progressions are now a days so ordinary, that they may beget a credence of several stories of the ancients which have hithetto passed for fabulous tales; as when they tell us that Vulcan and Daedalus made Statues to behave themselves like living persons; And that Hiarchas called men out the walls to wait upon Apollonius Tyaneus, and the like. And when he hath reflected upon these things, let him consider, how infinitely the Architect of nature and of all creatures, surpasseth the subtlest ingenieurs; And he will see that such manner of arguing, carrieth no force along with it.   

THE VI. CHAPTER.  
That the soul hath a Being and proprieties of her own: And consequently, is immortal. And of the nature and extent of the knowledge of a separated soul.  
THus, having gathered from these three proprieties of knowledge (which when have showed, are impossible to be performed by mere corporeal motions, or by the sole disposition of gross and subtle parts) that the source of knowledge in man is of an immaterial and spiritual nature: It followeth that she hath an Existence or Being of her own, and proprieties agreeable to such a nature: and consequently, that she is a spiritual substance. For it can not besayed, that she is an accident; seeing that all accidents imply a substance, of ●● nature proportionable to them, for them to depend on. And therefore, if she were an accident, since we have proved her to be of such a nature as can not depend of bodies, ●●here must, be in man some other spiritual substance whose accident ●●he were. Which no man will object, seeing there is no pretence at all for any other spirit●●all substance to be in man besides his soul; And that the reason why any person denyeth her to be so, is because they would not acknowledge any thing in Man to be immaterial and other then mere body. Seeing ●●hen that the ●●oule is a spiritual substance, and hath an Existence belonging to herself, of her own nature and strain; that is, a spiritual one: It is evident that her continuance dependeth not of the body, that in this life is her copar●●ener; but that her Existence still remaineth with her, after the body's death: which in familiar language, signifieth that she is and suruiu●●th after the body is fallen from her; and that its death, is her birth; and the breaking down of those clay walls, is the freeing of her from prison, and the setting her at liberty: since by that means, she enjoyeth fully and solely her own Existence, without being clogged and pestered with a gross yoke fellow that will have a share of it whiles they are together. Neither can it be surmised that any outward agent can, by working upon her after this her birth out of the body, make her cease to be: since by being a spiritual (that is an indivisible) substance, she is not liable to any of those operations or local motions, or divisions that change and destroy bodies; or is in danger of meeting with any other substance that is of a contrary nature to hers. Besides which, there is no means in nature that we know of, to bring any substance to its end. Which I conceive is sufficient for this discourse; wherein your lordship will expect no more, then that I prove the soul to survive the body's death, and to be in condition like that of Intelligences or Angels: And therefore I will not trouble you here with such metaphysical proofs, as to make them clear would require large explication and the laying of Principles a great way off: As for example, that (since Nature repugneth against annihilation) there can be no change in a thing that affordeth not matter to be susceptible of a new form. Or, that where Existence is once joined immediately to a subsistent form without matter, there is nothing can sever them.  
But peradventure some may conceive I have not given full ●●atisfaction in this point, unless I answer the famous argument wherewith Pomponatius hath perplexed even the learnedest men that were of his time, and have been ever since. For their sakes therefore, I will samne up in short what he urgeth against the soul's continuance after the body's death; and in as succinct a manner, give my solution to his difficulty. To this effect than he seemeth to say. Every thing that nature maketh, is designed by her for some proper and peculiar action or operation. For it would argue her (that is to say, God, the author of of Nature) of imprudence, if she should bring forth into the world, an idle and useless thing, that where to do nothing, and consequently were to serve for nothing. Now, the proper operation of man's soul, is to understand: phich action of understanding, is werformed by the souls considering the phantasms that reside in the brain; and without such phantasms, she can not acquire knowledge of any thing. But, after the body's death, there remain no phantasms for her to speculate; they being material impressions from corporeal objects; and consequently, following the lot of the material part of man that compriseth and harboureth them. Therefore it followeth, that if she should ●●e severed from the body and survive it, she would have no operation; but have a rank among substances for no purpose and to no end. For avoiding of which inconvenience, there is no other remedy, but to allow her being a cessation as well as the bodies, when Nature hath put ●●o period to all that ●●he is able to do or is fit for, by taking from her the means by which only she was able to work. This is the sum of his objection. For the clearing of which, we may consider, that an agent may be conceived to have two sorts of operations; the one transient into the subject it worketh upon; the other immanent in itself. The first driveth to the performing of some effect; which being compassed, the action ceaseth. As when an Artificer maketh some thing, or a traveller goeth to any place; as soon as the one hath finished his engine, or the other is arrived to his journeys end, their working and their motion do cease. But an action immanent in the agent, continueth working though the cause be taken a way which did set it on foot. As when a burning coal shineth or gloweth, though the fire be out, and the blowing ceased that kindled it: and as a bell hummeth, after the clapper or hammer hath done striking it. Many such conditions of actions we may observe in Nature, which the Latins do express by Neuter verbs, as A●●der●●, splendere, furere, aegrot●●re, insanire, and the like: all which do import a kind of exercise or actual Existence within the subject of what they signify, without relating to any extrinsical cause. The which, though they come very short of the acts of our soul; yet of all corporeal expressions they come nearest to them: There being in our soul, a kind of vital reflection in its proper acts; which being nothing but the very Existence of the soul itself, doth comprehend and aequalise as much as in nature is performed by an agent and a patient and their working. In this manner it is, that the soul after her separation from the body, continueth to understand objects, though the phantasms that at the first served her to acquire her knowledge, be taken from her. And even whiles she was in the body, the speculating of phantasms was not all the business that belonged to her: for though it is true, the doing of that, was necessary for her to be able to store herself with any thing: Yet she transferred the notions of things from those phantasms into her own spiritual store house; and did, even her own very self, become ●●he things which she understood; as we have already explicated. So that she was built up of the knowledges that she thus acquired by spiritualising of objects and by converting them into her own very substance. And that speculation of phantasms which is attributed to her in the body, is rather a passion than an action: for the doing of that work, is the souls receiving impression from those phantasms. The retaining of which, is her knowing. And this knowing, must necessarily remain always with her; since it is nothing else but she herself so moulded and so impressed. That is, her own Bein●●: which because it is a spiritual one and superior to corporeal ones, doth resume in itself the two natures of Essence, and of Operation that in bodies are separated: And so is, both her Being an her work. And consequently she knoweth and understandeth (which is her proper operation) when she is severed from the body and hath no more phantasms to work by. But it is a kind of standing or fixed state of knowing (if so I may say) and immanent in herself; (as the shining or glowing of a fire coal, seemeth to us to be) not at all accompanied kith motion, as is her gaining of wnowledge in this life. Which will be better understood, if we consider how her first object, is Being; and that her first operation, or understanding, is to be Being, (as, whose essence is nothing else but a capacity of knowledge, or of a new manner of being Being) and that all the rest of her understandings, are nothing else but to know other things to be; or, for her to be the Being of other things: that is, to identify them with herself by this imbibition of Being, that sinketh the objects into her. And therefore, when a soul is once completly become all things (that is, that she knoweth all things) which she becometh it the very instant of her separation, and indeed, by her separation from the body; It is evident, she needeth no further action to gain any thing or to better herself. For she hath then all that she is capable of hauing●● and is at the period she was made for. And consequently, Pomponatius his argument is of no force, since after the body's death the soul may continue that operation (of knowing) which she is made for: And no●● only continue it, but have it infinitely exalted and refined over what it was in the body.  
By my answer to this objection, I am led to observe how a separated soul must necessarily retain knowledge of whatsoever she knew in the body. For, since her knowledge of any thing is her very Being the thing she knoweth; It followeth, that as long as she conserveth her own Being, the knowledge of that thing must remain with her. But doth her knowledge rest here? Hath she acquired by this second birth, no addition to the stock she had been toylesomely traffiking for in this life? A child in his mother's womb, hath no other cognition than such a dull and limited one as his sense of touching or feeling could afford him; but as soon as he is borne into this world's light, he receiueth impressions by his eyes of the colours, figures, magnitudes, and other qualities, of all kinds of bodies that environ him: And shall a soul, borne into that bright day of intellectual light, see then no more than she saw here in her dark prison? She shall certainly. And not only see more, but see so much more, that it even dazzleth our eyes to look upon the excess of her seeing. Let us proceed by steps; and consider how the ordering of a few notions, begetteth new knowledges and conclusions, that he who was imbued with those notions never dreamed of, till he had marshaled and ranked them in such order. And by new ordering and weaving those new conclusions among themselves and with his former notions, he further acquireth new knowledges. Which the more numerous they grow, the higher and larger is their multiplication; like numbers, which by every addition of a new figure, do increase their values ten fold. Thus, sciences do grow, from a few plain obvious principles to the vastness we admire, So, the science of mathematics, by enterweaving a few axioms and definitions, sprooteth out, into an unbelievable progeny of subtlety and variety. Likewise, the science of metaphysics, by ordering such notions as occur to every man of common sense runneth over the whole machine and extent of all that is: And not content with the whole world of bodies, and of what is measured by time, soareth with a bold wing and piercing eye into a new world of intellectual inhabitants; where finding them settled by their nature in a state of eternity, she perceiveth time that devoureth all things beneath their orb, flide weakly under them into an abyss of nothing; without being able to give the least attaint to their sublimed nature. All this is done, merely by orderly disposing those notions that by our senses we acquire. And if these, in a man (whose gross allay of a body, so cloggeth and benumbeth the vigour of his subtle inhabitant) do grow up to so incredidible a bulk and height; what will their extent be in a separated soul, that is all activity? Her nature, is, to be an orderer, or rather, to be an order itself: for whatsoever proceedeth from her, is orderly: which it would not be, if order were not first in her. Order then being in her, it must be her nature; since all is nature and substance, in that thing which is indivisible. It is clear then that whatsoever is ordered by an agent whose nature is order, it must needs be ordered to the utmost advantage that by ordering it is capable of. And consequently, seeing that new knowledge springeth out of the well ordering of precedent notions; It followeth, that whatsoever is knowable out of those notions and principles, is fully known by a separated soul. But when we consider the connexion that all things have, one with an other, (seeing that all the things in the world, are but like links of a chain, forged by an all knowing Architect; who doth all his works, by the rules of perfect order and, wisdom) we can not doubt, but that a separated soul, by ordering those knowledges she hath acquired in the body, and by reflecting upon them with her unlimited activity and energy (she being then entirely a pure Act) must needs attain to the knowledge of all that is. And if we examine wherein this connexion consisteth●● as it is in our soul; we shall find that it is placed in this, that the thing which hath one notion, is the same which hath an other. Whereby we find that the first notion we have of any thing, doth by the nature of our understanding comprehend all other notions; and that it can not be perfectly understood, unless all others be known. Wherefore, we may conclude, that a separated soul, doth either comprehend no one thing, or else that she must needs comprehend all things. As for example; If she know herself, she knoweth that she was the form of a body; & not only of a body in general, but of one, so composed, so rempered, so formed, and all other particulars belonging to the body that she is separated from. From hence she gathereth, that this compound of soul and body, must necessarily have a father and a mother; and by the individual proprieties of her body, she inferreth the indiduall proprieties of her father and of her mother. Whose being such, requireth further such and such other causes and circumstances whereon they depend. And every one of them, require such and such others that have caused them. And so proceeding on from one to an other, she discovereth not only the first, but also all the causes that have relation to one another: Which in effect, is the complex of the whole world; since all things in it, have (one way or an other) relation to one an other, either nearer or further off: As Master White hath ingeniously and solidely showed in the first of his dialogues of the world. And this is the method of acquiring all sciences, by the virtue of syllogisms. And this vast extent of knowledge, will be the firmer and the stronger in her, out of this regard, that every one of her knowledges will add a confirmation and a verifying to every particular that she knoweth. For all things in nature, having a perfect connexion with one an other; whosoever knoweth truly the nature of any thing, knoweth also the nature of all that hath reference to it, either as cause or as effect, or by any other regard that linketh them together. And thus, every one of her multitude or rather infinity of knowledges, riveteth faster each other of them: every one of them affording her a new reason, why that is so; like stones in an arch, where every stone is not only a support to itself, but also to all and to every one of the other stones that compose the arch. So that every knowledge of hers, hath a superproportion in a manner infinite, beyond any thing she knew in the body. And according to the strength of her knowledge, is the strength of her other actions, as, of desiring or loving any thing that her knowledge informeth her to be good: since they proceed immediately from knowledge; and are more or less vehement, according as her knowledge decyphereth them more or less abounding with the nature of good. Nor can she be deceived by any appearance of truth, that may plant an Error in her, instead of a true judgement: which is evident, not only out of what we have even now said, that every one of her knowledges maketh good every particular one in her; but also more immediately out of this, that it is impossible for Contradictory judgements to dwell together in the soul; since one of them, is engrafted in her, or rather is identified with her, by the nature of being; and the other, must consequently be excluded from her, by not being; (as even in in this life, we can not judge any thing, at the same time, to be and not to be:) And therefore, since all that she knew in this world, remaineth with her in the next; and that out of the perfect ordering of that, she deduceth the knowledge of all things else, and so enjoyeth the fullness of science in her; and that all she knoweth, is always present to her, as being in truth her own indivisible nature, substance, and Being; it followeth, that no falsehood (which is a contradiction of some truth incorporated, as I may say, into her substance) can have admittance to her belief: And if any were mistakingly harboured by her during her abode in the body (which hindered her from completely ordering her notions, and from deducing true consequences from them) this her new condition of abundant light, soon discovereth and cancelleth it.   

THE VII. CHAPTER.  
The answer to an objection.  
But if error, mistaking, or falsehood, can not harbour in a separated soul; And that the fullness of knowledge, be the period and perfection of her nature; It may at the first sight appear impossible, that any soul should fail of being happy. For, seeing that a rational creatures desiring of any thing, dependeth of the judgement that he maketh of such a things being good for him: It ●●ould seem, that there is great Error in his knowledge, and much mistaking in his judgement, when he setteth his hart upon desiring and longing after that which is most hurtful and pernicious to him. To answer this objection, I must entreat your lordship to look into the nature of the will: Which though in substance●●it be the same with the understanding (that is, the soul herself, according as she is ready to proceed to action) yet as it is the origine of the soul's desires, and the impellent of her to action, It requireth a particular consideration. We may then determine the will in a rational creature, to be a mastering and conquering judgement or resolution, that fixeth peremptorily upon what is to be done. For it is clear, that it is nothing else but a man's immediate disposition to work, or to do some thing: And he is always ready to proceed to action, and doth proceed thereto (Unless he be hindered) as soon as his understanding judgeth and telleth him what is best to be done. Next, be pleased to consider how we find oftentimes by experience, that after we have judged and determined by our reason and understanding, what is best and fittest for us to do; there reseth in our breasts, a certain material motion or tide of spirits, that beateth us off from that resolution, and disposeth us an other way. If it happen that this inundation of spirits do chance to ebb back again, and leave the channel free for the calmer waters of reason to have their course in; we return to our former temper and judgement. But if a new flood of them do break in upon it, too strong for it to resist; then they carry the man's resolution to their side. And according to the violence and repetition of their strokes that beat him off from his first judgement, the resolution that is made by them is strong and vigorous. For as ourvery Being, and all our knowledges, in this world; are made by material actions: So, more, and stronger knowledges and judgements, are made by more and by stronger material actions. And therefore, if these currents and tides of material spirits, have the force to make in a man strong impressions and judgements of the good they propose, and by a continued long beating upon his understanding do in manner confine it to what they propose; they will in the end, as it were blind our reason, and make us think only, or at●●least chiefly, of the good and advantage that they suggest. They will sink into the bottom of our soul, and settle there, the apprehensions of what they recommend. And in comparison of those Apprehensions, they will weake●● the truth we see, making it a appear to us like a dream, or a thing in the air, that concerneth us not●● Which in this case, I may compare (not improperly) to oil swimming upon some heavier liquo●● in a cask. For, that remaineth at the top, without motion or activity; whiles the water beneath, runneth precipitously out at the spigot into the vessels that are set to receive it. In like manner, here, truth remaineth without all efficacy; whiles the contrary judgements, do flow impetuously into action.  
Now, when a man thus tempered cometh to die, and that so his compound cometh to be resolved into body and soul; It is evident, that in his soul, there must remain a great inequality, between that judgement of hers which concerneth the material good, and ●●er other which concerneth the true good: And, that although the ●●ur●●ent of material spirits which was ●●ont to foment this judgement, be now gone, yet the effect of their strokes (that very same effect which remained in her, when soever she had truce from their actual assaults) remaineth after death in the separated soul; and if it be the stronger, will of itself still press her on to the same material good, that the spirits which begot it, recommended to her. For by the stroke of death, the soul loseth nothing of what she had purchased in the body: But all that she had or rather that she was there, is enlarged and heighthened by this second birth of hers; And she becometh such a thing, as the precedent moulding of her settled her in a capacity to prove; like as the several parcels of warm mud upon the banks of Nilus, do become such various living creatures, by the last action of the enlivening sun working upon them, as by their precede●●t dispositions and circumstances they were designed to be. Add to this, that there is no formal opposition between two such judgements in a man. Let the one of them be (for example) that it is good for him to go to a feast, to satisfy and please his appetite; The other, that it is better for him to go to the Church to pray: And it is evident that the truth of this latter, doth not contradict the truth of the other; but both of them are consistent together. If then he dyeth with his soul fraught with these two judgements; death will leave them both in his soul; each of them stretched out, ●●n such sort as belongeth to a separated soul; but still, in such proportion as it found them in her, ●●hen it came to deliver her out of her body. So that, if it found them ●●n such a proportion that the judgement of good in going to a feast, did clearly overbear the judgement of good in going to the Church; the desire of feasting in the next: world, will likewise overbear in ●●er the desire of that good, for the obtaining whereof she was to go to ●●he Church to pray. And although ●●ll the circumstances and possibility of going to a feast, be taken ●●way, with the taking away of the body; yet, the desire of feasting (which dependeth not of considerations to be made in the next world, but only of those which were made in the body) remaineth as fresh and as quick as it was when the Man settled his last judgement and resolution in this world. Nor doth it import, that a separated soul hath no taste to be pleased with meat or with drink. For, as all her desires were framed in the body; so, are they such, as belong to a whole complete man, and not to a naked soul. And therefore, she desireth to be built up again an entire man, and to wallow again in such sensual pleasures as then provayled with her. To which I may add, that although a separated soul have not a taste to relish meat, yet she hath a will to wish for it. And this will, is now to her, of a like nature, as to us in this world, the wish of Bea●●i●●de; which dependeth of no other consideration, nor is referred to any furthe●● End; But is of itself the last End; as being desired for its own sake; and not under the reglement, or to serve for obtaining of any thing else, more desired than it. Nor doth it prei●●dice what I have here determined; to consider, that a separated soul, is a pure spirit, delivered from that impugner of Reason, her flesh, which used to draw her from her greater good. For we must not vnderstand●● her being a pure spirit, to signify her being a●● untainted spirit: for she is wholly defiled by her habitation in the body. But she is called pure, by negation of conjunction to anybody: which hindereth not, but that she may have in her substance, the spiritual effects and contaminations of a corrupted body. For whiles she and her body were but one thing (both of them subsisting by one Existence) the agents that wrought upon her body, did build and qualify her according to what she was to be when she was to be severed from her body, and to Exist by herself. Now if these agents were perverse ones, they hammered out such effects in her as made her become a spiritual monster of many heads, (which are, the reluctant and incompossible Principles that reign in her) each of them drawing and tearing her a different way from the rest; as in the next Chapter I shall more amply declare. And altough she erreth not in prosecuting her judgements and desires, supposing the principles from whence they spring; which are now natural to her: yet all her operations, flowing out of those: principles, are strangely defective, ugly, and monstruous. And the reason why her judgements and affections in this state of separation, are natural to her and unalterable; whereas before they were but accidental; is this: whilst she was in the body, there was no thought or judgement so deeply settled in her, but (by reason of her body's subjection to extern agents) might be weakened by the much importunity of other thoughts occurring to her and pressing upon her; and by little and little, might be worn away and forgotten: And therefore her nature, that was thus flexible and changeable in her judgements and desires, resided purely in the common inclination to Good in abstract or in general; the which was common to all kinds of desires; and so, only the desire of Good in general, was natural to her: All particular desires, being but accidental to her; and such, as might be removed by extrinsical causes and agents. But when all this subjection of her to such agents by means of her body, shall be remooved by death; and that no causes shall afterwards be able to work upon her; and that she herself shall be nothing else but a Being or a substance left out of these impressions, the stamping of which is now at an end; Those desires which formerly were but accidental, are now become natural to her. And whatsoever she loveth for itself, remaineth settled and riveted in her, as a supreme principle; over which none other hath any authority or prevalence; and against which, nothing can be urged to enfeeble it. And in the mean time, all other judgements and desires that are less prevalent than these, do keep their inferior ranks and beings, (without losing aught of the clearness of evidence that accompanieth them) until an other change do come by the rejoining of her body to her. By all which discourse it appeareth, how a separated soul that is badly and unequally built up; is free from error and falsehood in her judgements; though her misseplaced affections and the improportioned composure of her will, do make her neglect her true good, for inferior and unworthy goods.   

THE VIII. CHAPTER.  
Of the Misery of a disordered soul after it is separated from the body.  
Having cleared (as I conceive) this great difficulty; I shall apply myself to explicate in the best manner I am able, the different states, that the different courses and manners of living in this world, do settle a separated soul in. These may be comprised under two general heads. For; there being in man two principles from which all his operations do spring; Reason and sense; his soul and his body; It is evident that according as either of these swayeth and hath strongest influence into his actions, his course of life is to receive its denomination. I will begin with taking a short survey of a soul torn from the body of a man that spent his life in the pursuit and in the enjoying of sensual objects. It is already concluded, that all the judgements and desires which a man contracteth in this life, do remain in the sepated soul, in the same proportion and excess over one an other, as they were here. It hath been also showed that notwithstanding such a souls desiring a particular and inferior good, more strongly than she doth an universal and superior one: yet is she not carried by error or mistaking, to prefer the inferior good before the superior; but seeth clearly the difference that in truth is between them; and that the superior good, is of its own nature, preferable to the other; though, by reason of the temper she is in, she preferreth for her enjoyment the other meaner good. Next, let us consider the great vehemence wherewith the desires of a separated foul are accompanied. Examples daily occur to us, of the great earnestness wherewith passionate men desire and prosecute the objects that their hearts are set upon: In such sort, that neither difficulties, nor dangers, can divert them from them. And yet, the greatest and violentest of these, is not comparable to the least and weakest desire of a separated soul. In her, there is nothing that can retard any operation that she is about: as in bodies there is; unto whom, motion belongeth not but as they are moved by an other thing; and therefore, all that appertaineth to them in regard of motion, is in a manner resistance to it, or a repugnant yielding to what is too stung for them: and consequently, succession of time, and conveniency of place, and a mastering power in the agent that worketh upon them, are required to all corporeal motions and operations. But a separated soul, being (as we have formerly showed) an indivisible substance, and not measured by time, nor comprehended by place; and withal, herself being the principle of her own operations (which are nothing else, but her very being what she is) It followeth that whatsoever she doth or desireth, is, with the whole energy of her Nature; who●●e force and activity beareth such proportion to the strength of the greatest and most powerful body that is, as all time doth to an instant, or as the whole extent of quantity doth to a point; seeing, that her activity (were she to work) reacheth to all place, and to the whole mass of corporeal magnitude, in an indivisible of time. Now, let us apply these three considerations, to such a soul as we have proposed for our first survey. Her wearing out her time in the body, with continual conversation among sensual objects; and through the love of them, her neglect of rational and intellectual goods; will have caused, that after death, her affections to them, will prevail over these latter. Such affections, can not be conceived to be, but of one, or but of two, or but of a few, of those material objects; but of many, and of different natures. For the puddles of flesh and blood, having this property, that full draughts of them do beget a satiety and loathing in in the persons that feed greedily upon them; their overburdened stomachs do seek to please themselves by variety; and do hope to find fresher and quicker delight in some new object. Thus, they travel and wander as far as they can, in this labyrinth of vanity: One pleasure still succeeding an other: Their thoughts sometimes bent upon richesse, otherwhiles upon power; as often upon honour and estimation from others; sometimes upon revenge; and peradventure continually, upon the meaner objects that in their several kinds do affect their grosser senses. All this variety of affections, that requireth succession of time to be contracted and enjoyed in the body, will reside together all at once in the separated soul; or rather, she herself will be all of them. Many of them, will be incompatible with one an other: yet she mustendure them all; & endure every one of their drawing her a different way: like those unhappy monsters that some historians tell us of, which being composed of two, or of more, different animals, united together by some part of their bodies common to them all, they are at continual debate among themselves, one of them desiring to carry their whole load one way, or to busy themselves about one thing, the other contesting against that. But the incompossible affections of such a soul, are yet more lamentable than can be represented by the sad conflict of such monsters: for, these latter, are not in the same indivisible place: they are but near one an other; and they are not always in opposition, and at wars, between themselves: whereas, the souls unhappy desires, do constitute and build up her very substance; which being indivisible, they lie always together in the same indivisible restless bed: like snarling dogs, like angry vipers, and poisonous serpents, perpetually biting and tearing one an other. Nor can any of them be laid a sleep, for one single moment of time: They are continually awake, continually raging, and continually devouring one an other: and consequently, continually devouring thebowels of that wretched soul that harboureth them. Who in the midst of this torment and misery, seeth clearly that it can never have end, as longas she hath being; she being now, no longer subject to mutation: & that therefore she must remain thus, for all eternity. But this tearing her in pieces by incompossible desires, is but part of the torment she sustaineth: She is so unhappy, as to be incapable of enjoying any one of those objects she so extremely thirsteth after. None of them can follow her into that region, where she now dwelleth; nor hath the means or instruments to converse with them, were it possible (as it is not) that they could approach her and offer themselves to her. Consider now how great an anguish endureth that man, who having passionately set his hart upon some beloved object, is hindered from enjoying it. The proportion of his sorrow, will be according to the proportion of his desire, and to the activity of his nature. We see, how much the grief of a quick and smart person, exceedeth the grief of a dull and heavy one: and particularly when it is for the privation of the object that he prised most. We have daily examples, of men, that die for such losses. How strangely excessive then must the sorrow be of a separated soul, that wanteth what she so vehemently desireth, and that she is sure she shall never attain to enjoy? How great this sorrow and anguish is, we can not comprehend, because we can not comprehend the activity of a separated soul. But we shall discover enough to strike us with amazement & horror at the sight of it, if we reflect, how sorrow & pain worketh upon a man in this life. It is evident, that even in corporeal pains, it is not the body that feeleth that which tormenteth him. For if the mind be strongly fixed upon some other thought, so as not to attend unto what passeth in the body, or that by outward agents is wrought upon it, (as happeneth in ecstasies, and in like vehement applications of the mind an other way) the man feeleth neither gout, nor stone, nor the incision of any of hislimbes, nor the violent action of fire feering or burning any of his sensiblest parts. It is the soul then that feeleth all such pain; and the body, with its senses, serveth but as the channel or conduit to carry it to her. Much more is it out of all question, that the sorrows of the mind, reside only there. It followeth then, that since only the soul is susceptible of torment; a separated soul, must necessarily be liable thereunto, in an infinite excess beyond what an embodied one is capable of. Now consider, how all the evil that can arrive to her, is, her being crossed in her affections, and her being deprived of what she desireth and tendeth unto with greater actituity and pressure, then that wherewith the weight of the whole world would fall back to its place and centre, if after being remooved from it by a Mastering force, it were suddenly let at liberty to return whither its gravity would carry it. And from hence we may conclude what a state of violence, and of suffering contradiction to her nature, must such a soul necessarily be in? It is evident, that all the torments invented and inflicted by such Tyrants as have been most ingenious in cruelty; or caused by the violentest and sharpest diseases; are but shadows to what such a soul endureth. To heighten yet more the anguish she sustaineth; she looketh with an envious eye upon the excessive happiness that other souls enjoy, who spent their time in storing themselves with such true goods as now do settle them in such a delightful state: she seeth how easy it had been for her to have made herself one of that happy number: and how foolishly she took more pains to render herself thus miserable, than they have done to attain Beatitude: since the one's course, was a calm smooth progress in the high way that nature herself traced out to them, and to all men else that have the good fortune to discern it: and the others, was a continual toilsome wandering in the rugged and stony bypaths, full of briars and thorns, where inevitable precipices surrounded them on every hand. And she seeth that the things for which she took all this pains, and for which she now endureth so much, and lost so much; were most unworthy and most contemptible pleasures; not deserving the name of pleasures, even whiles they were enjoyed in their greatest height; that she is ashamed, and hath horror, to think of: And yet, so wretchedly unhappy she is, that she can not choose but prefer them infinitely above those true goods, which at the same time she seeth do in reality and in solid estimation more infinitely surpass them; And which therefore she can not forbear loving and desiring with a most vehement earnestness, though not so much as the mastering affections that tyrannize over her. And consequently she is most unhappy, upon that score too; since her misplaced affections, have rendered her incapable of enjoying any pleasure in them. How miserable must we conclude such a soul to be, though she remained in this state for never so short a while? But when we consider, how she is to remain in this condition for all eternity; that nothing can never happen to comfort her, or to assuage her torments, much less to lay them a sleep for one small moment of time; that she is certain they will dure for ever all in a heap, and each single by itself, corroding her bowels with the same raging violence; what distress, what horror, what despair must she be in? If the looking upon eternity with our faint eyes, and the taking such a poor scantling of it as we are able, by adding of the greatest numbers we can comprehend in our fancies to others as great as they; then, multiplying them between themselves, and with their productes, till we have wearied out ourselves, and exhausted the rules of arithmetic and Algebra, in counting millions of years that it is to endure: And yet after all, we find that we have not attained to so much as a shadow of that all comprising, never ending, eternity: so that we grow giddy with seeking to sum up such an endless account: What should we conceive will be the sense, the horror, and the despair, of such a soul; who by the superiority of her nature hath now full knowledge, in its most horrid semblance, of that dreadful eternity, whose bare shadow (or scarce so much) striketh us into such an amazement and affright?  
By this little (very little, in respect of what this subject requireth) Your Lordship will conceive, what apprehension I make of the state of a separated soul built up of improportionable and unequal judgements, by having in this life entertained herself totally or chiefly with material objects, and settled her mastering affections on them.   

THE IX. CHAPTER.  
Of the Beatitude of a well ordered soul, after its separation from the body.  
IT is now time that veturne over the leaf, and take a view of an other soul, that in this life hath cultivated her knowledges and affections to the best advantage; and hath employed herself, about intellectual and re●●ll goods; and hath contracted a love of them; and in comparison of them, neglecteth the other muddy ones that belong to flesh and blood. It is evident out of what I have formerly said, that the affections of such a soul, when she shall be out of the body, will be wholly bent upon intellectual goods; as, knowledge, and truth; and that if she enjoy them, she will be contented and happy. That she shall enjoy them, is already concluded; when we showed, how every separated soul, is endowed with fullness of knowledge, and shall understand and know all that is knowable in nature; which importeth, All that is, that ever was, and that ever shall be: And that she shall know all this, truly without any admixture of falsehood or error. But what degree of happiness she shall be in by such knodwledge, is that which we are to inquire into: In doing whereof, we shall be fain to take ou●● measures, by discoursing comparatively of her delights, to such as do delight a soul in this life; since such a soul is so noble a creature, and so above our reach, that we are not able to judge positively of her by looking singly. on herself, in her own nature. How great the pleasures of sense are, is but too easy to apprehend. Mankind is continually too conversant with them, to be ignorant of them. And so powerful they are, that we daily see men of excellentest parts, sacrifice their whole lives to the purchasing and enjoying of them. But if we compare them with the pleasures of the mind, even in this world; we shall find that in respect of them, they are flat, mean, brutal, and inconsiderable. We see daily examples of persons, that having been deepest immersed in those, (and therefore can not be suspected, to want the skill of gusting them) as soon as they have come to relish the superior delights that are afforded by Intellectual goods (for every taste is not presently fitted for them; being depraved by preoccupation of the others) they grow to despise the entertainments and objects that formerly were the Idols of their affections; and do acknowledge, that one hour of contemplation of some noble truth, outweigheth in the scale of pleasure, years of such delights as belong to sense. But I must not content myself, with producing examples or authorities, to your Lordship: Such arguments are to be used only to those that can not penetrate into the natures and causes of things. You will expect from me, that I should lay the grounds, why intellectual pleasures, do, of their own nature, affect a man more than corporeal ones. This is easily and presently done, if we but consider what it is in Man that is affected with pleasure: even with sensual pleasure. And as before, in point of pain; so here, upon the same principles, we shall find, that it is not the body, but the soul, that is affected with pleasure, and that the body and senses, do but serve to convey the outward objects or motions, to the tribunal of the mind; who only savoureth and embraceth them under the notion of delightful. If she be distraught an other way, with some strong thought that carrieth her from the present objects and company; be the man at other times never so much affected with music, (for example) or with pictures and statues, or with parfumes, or with pleasant wines, or with like entertainments of the senses: All these may beat at their doors; and yet he be so far from being then delighted with them, that he will not so much as have taken notice of them. If then it be the soul only that tasteth pleasure, she only being capable of cognition and able to make reflection, (which are necessary circumstances to the enjoying of pleasure) It followeth necessarily that in a well composed man, those delights must affect him most, that are most agreeable and proportionable to that part of him by which he is delighted. He who feeleth not this truth experimentally within himself, may be said to have the complexion of his soul spoiled; like those ill governed maids, who by feeding on trash of bad nourishment, do get the green sickness; and than do loath meats of wholesome ivices. For, the truth is (though it fall not within the compass of this discourse) that human nature hath been corrupted in its very source; like a child that sucketh contagion from an infected nurse; and is delivered over, to ill affections, and to ignorance of what is good for it. Now, the proper business of the soul, is the enriching herself with knowledge; and her satisfaction and contentment, is the contemplation of truth. If the doing that, in the lowest and meanest subject of knowledge, (qnantity, which is but the accident and attendant of bodies; out of the consideration of which, Geometry hath its birth) and whose verities have no real existence in nature; but may seem in respect of solid substances, to be but fine cobbewebbes spun in the air; If that (I say) do oftentimes carry men of strongest parts and judgement by the delight and pleasure they find therein, to the neglect of all sensual pleasures, and even of their life itself; How great may we think must the delight be of him that should have the solid knowledge of whole Nature itself, and of all her real and numerous progeny? If the contemplation of a few lines, Angles, and figures, whose Existence is no were considerable but in the brain and fancy of him that playeth with them (for they are but like sport and exercise to the mind, to get her an appetite to meat of solider nourishment) can carry away with the delightfulness of it such a man as Archimedes (one of the greatest wits that ever were) so far, as rather to part with his life, then with so pleasing a thought: What pleasure must there be in considering the whole machine of the universe, and of all the bodies that are contained in it? to behold the beautiful proportion and symmetry, that is in every part of it? the admirable connexion, that is between each one of them? the nature of every one in particular? and the long chain of causes and effects, that runneth trough them all, and comprehendeth them all? But when from hence, we raise ourselves above all this, and discover a new world (infinitely greater than all this) of pure intellectual creatures; that have no allay of quantity or of bodiliness; that are not measured by time; that are not comprised in place; that are stored with infinite knowledge; and that enjoy all possible bliss and happiness, all at once; And that this all at once, shall be stretched out to a never ending Eternity: what words can express, how this thought mu●● needs affect him that penetrater●● duly into it? But, when to all this he addeth, that these are not bar●● truths which are only pleasant t●● look upon, and do not concern●● him in his own particular: but tha●● indeed, whiles he contemplateth their nature, he informeth himself of his own: And that he doth not study this map, like a scholar that is learning Geography; but like an Emperor, an Alexander, that is providing to make himself master of the whole region he seeth there abridged before him (for to such a state, his soul will arrive, when she shall be out of the body) What soul-ravishing pleasure can we conceive he then enjoyeth? How little must he set by all the fond toys that vulgar people busy themselves about? And how contemptible and base must he judge all those pleasures that affect the senses, in respect of this that now filleth, swelleth, and enlargeth his soul? Yet all this is but a shadow; nay it is not so much; it is nothing; in respect of the pleasure of a separated soul that during her habitation in the body, cultivated these thoughts: Which we shall the better discern, ●f we examine the differences that are between the cognitions, from whence spring the pleasures, of an embodied, and of a separated soul. When a man knoweth any thing, his soul speculateth the phantasms that are in his brain; and by reflection upon his knowledge, he is delighted with it: and the more present he maketh it to himself by close reflection, the more is his delight: But the knowledge of a separated soul, is always essentially present to her; it is her very self; her own very Essence & substance: which can not choose but affect her more vigorously and lively, than what is but knocking at her door. Next, a man can think of but one single thing at a time; and at that present, be delighted with that only: which is, because his soul not being able to work whiles i●● is in the body, but by means of the phantasms in the brain; and they being material objects, and residing in a material place; the on●● of them shouldereth out his fellows, whenfoever he cometh to the narrow window by which he is to show himself, and to give an account of himself, to the soul. But a separated soul, shall in the same indivisible of time, reflect upon all, and every least circumstance that she knoweth; which is, all that she gained knowledge of during her whole abode in the body; and all that can be deduced out of that: which (as I have formerly showed) is all that is, or ever was, in the world, or ever shall or can be. And she shall have perfect knowledge, not only of every one in particular; and of all the causes, effects, conformities, contrarieties, and such other circumstances as immediately belong to every one of them: But shall also see the connexion that every one hath with every one: how the several links of this admirable chain that containeth all that is in the world, from highest to lowest, are so fitted to one an other, that if any one of them were but broken or in disorder, all would fall in pieces; and withal, are made with such powerful art, that every one of them is a support and a strengthening to all the rest: So that the whole empire of nature must be destroyed, before there can be the least failing in any of the meanest of them. In the third place, let us consider how an embodied soul's knowledge is but a kind of passion or impression from outward objects; and in all her operations, is dulled by her heavy and resistent copartner: But a separated soul, is a pure activity; a subsistent form; no potentiality or resistance belonging to it: So that nothing among bodies, can express the nature and manner of its working. It were too little, far, to say that her operations are like the suddenness of the suns illuminating the whole hemisphere, or like the quick violence of lightning, when in the twinkle of an eye it reacheth from East to West, and teareth vast trees 〈◊〉 by the roots, and overturneth solidest buildinges: for between such, and the weak creeping of a snail, there is some proportion; but between the other, none at all. In the fourth place, let us consider how the pleasures of this life consist in succession. When one part of them is, the other parts of it are not. Or rather, no part of them is present. For you can not assign, not so much as with your thought, any present moment; but whiles you are thinking of it, it vanisheth. If the Now which you would pitch upon, be more than an indivisible instant, part of it is past, and the other part not yet come: what you grasp art, to stay it from sliding by you, is such an indivisible as may be called nothing; and yet that nothing, whiles you are but thinking Here it is, is flown as much out of your reach as the first hour the world was created in. On the other side; the pleasures of a separated soul, are stretched out as farreias Eternity extendeth itself; by an vninterrupted succession, of continual enjoying without any divisibility, or subsequent or precedent parts, of its durance: And do comprehend all sucession, all time, (were it multiplied by the sands of the sea, upon millions of years; and infinitely beyond all that) not in one permanent and standing Now, of actual comprehension of them by Existence (which belongeth only to God) but in an assurance and evident certainty, that her present happy condition is liable to no change, to no vicissitude, to no diminution, to no ebbing and flowing. The pleasures that would require millions of years to taste them all (and infinitely more) are here by a strange alchemy distilled and exalted into a quintessence of one minute, which minute is fixed for ever from fleeting, is permanent, can never fade, or the pleasures of it relent in the least degree. And in the last place, let us consider how great an allay to all the pleasures of this life, is, the casuality of them●● the thought that they may betaken from him who enjoyeth them, or he from them; and, that griefs and sorrows may succeed to the happiest human condition that can be imagined; is enough to sour it all. But a separated soul is secure that she can never have her state changed. She knoweth, that for all eternity, it will ever be the fame. Her pleasure being the result of her knowledge, she seeth clearly that there are but three gates by which any change can come in upon it: And if all these be safely barred & fenced, she is out of danger or any mutation. These three, are; either herself, who is the knower; or the objects, which she knoweth; or the knowledge, that she hath of them. As for herself; her indivisibility, and her immateriality, do exempt her, both from any inward principles of failing within herself, and from the power of any outward Agents working to her prejudice. And therefore, on that side, she is immutable. As for the objects she knoweth; there can arrive no change in them, in regard of her: for though some of them be subject to the empire of time, and consequently are always in a fleeting and changing condition; yet, those changes she is aware of; they are all present to her: so that if they did not change according to the law settled for their change, which she is fully acquinted with; there would be a change in them, in respect of her. Lastly; her knowledge, can admit no change; since nothing of what she knoweth, can ever be lost by her; it being all as indefectible as herself; and indeed, her very self ●● neither can she purchase any new knowledge to contradict or weaken what she already knoweth; since she already knoweth all that is knowable. And thus it is evident, that her pleasure, being built upon these indefectible and unchangeable foundations, is immutable, and will last in the same height for all 〈◊〉: And of this, she is most certain; and consequently enjoyeth her happiness with all security. Let us now sum up the account we ha●●e been making of a happy soul's joys; and we shall find the product ●●o great as will amaze us. We have found, how the pleasure of the soul, consi●●teth in knowledge; or, at least, is a result of knowledge. And to prevent, that sensual men may not think ●●his to be but a dull and flat pleasure, in respect of the poignant ones that the body seemeth to be 〈◊〉 of, we have showed, how even all corporeal pleasures, are no otherwise pleasures then as they affect the soul; and that it is only she, who is delighted with them: And that her ●●ne proper and immediate pleasure, doth affect her, even in this life, without comparison more than those turbulent ones which come to her by the conduits of her senses, after that custom and due perception of them hath once rendered them familiar to her, and hath restored her to the government of that Common wealth which her vassals had gotten possession of in her minority, and whiles (as I may say) she was in her cradle and not yet awake. We have found, that this pleasing knowledge is not only, of one, or of a few objects; (like those of men; who whiles they are intent upon the delights of one object, can not relish those of an other) but of the whole machine of the universe; all, that God's hand maid, nature, ever did, will, or can make; governor, and conserve; and how, when, and why, she performeth all her works: Not only in all the vast world of matter, (whereof we in this life; converse with, and have knowledge of, but the least parcels) But also in the much vaster Region of spirits; who, besides the near infinity of their number, have yet this advantage over corporeal●● things, that the meanest and lowest of all that innumerable multitude, is in entire world within himself, infinitely greater richer more beautiful and excellent than all the whole vast world of bodies; And hath infinitely more power to work what he will upon it all, and upon every part of it, at once, (when the doing so, should agree with the rules of his wisdom) than the strongest giant that fiction ever built up, can be imagined to have in respect of moving a slender straw or downy feather, or of crushing a little bubble upon the water. We have also found that this vnfatho●●able sea of knowledge, is always in a high flood of a spring ●●ide on every coast; not sometimes ebbing on one shore, whiles it floweth on 〈◊〉 other; but always swelling and ouling every where over all banks that might hem it in; and enioy●●ng all her several knowledges, and the delights of them, all at ●●nce; as intent to every one of them a particular, as to any one of them whatsoever: Which are so far from breeding a confusion, that even one of that incomprehensible multitude, strenghtheneth and heighteneth every other of them; and i●● again strengthened and; heightened by it; and each, maketh the other be more tasted and better relished. Which taste in her, is not a cold or flat one, dulled and blunted with too much feeding upon her delights (as happeneth to corporeal ones, who lose their smartness, either by the too great activity of the objects working upon them, as when too great a light blindeth one's eye; or by being too much glutted with them, as when one surfetteth with delightful mea●●es; and the like) but is all activity a kind of perpetual growing in appetite; a continual effusion of itself with violent transport upon this All and every least parcel o●● it, that so delighteth it. And ye●● this effusion is not as upon a pleasant object art some distance from i●●selfe; as when a man looketh upon a fair picture or fairer original, that delighteth him: Nor yet at less distance, as when pleasant wine or mere slideth over the pala●●e that is affected with them, and doth mingle some little atoms of their bodies with it: Nor as when more delightful motions make a change in the sensiblest parts of a man's body, to beget in him a higher strain of pleasure then all the former; than which, it may seem that nothing can be nearer. But it is far more intime to the soul than all this: It is she herself: All this pleasure of hers, is engrafted upon her own very Being: ●●t is a perpetual effusion of her who●●e self, upon her whole self: she needeth no reflection upon it to make it present to her (as all pleasures of the body do, to make them perceived & relished) or rather, she is in a continual most strict reflection upon it, as having it most intimely and substantially present to her; for it is purely she her very self: And therefore she is in a perpetual, vninterrupted, chewing, relishing, and enjoying, with a most quick sense, hungry appetite, and incomprehensible activity, of all and of every one of these her wonderful delights. Which it is not enough to say she enjoyeth all at once; meaning only that she enjoyeth the pleasure of every one of them at the same time: But because her enjoying is without succession; It fareth with her, as with wine, for example; the activity and virtue of a whole ton whereof is drawn into a small measure of aether●●all spirit: or as with the diffused sun beams; which being reduced to one point, do there become burning; whereas in their extension, they were but warm: So in her the whole ●●asse and dilatation of delight which we may fansi●● would take up innumerable millions of years to run over, is extracted into one Minute; into a perpetual N●●w; And the virtue (as I may say) which required to be diffused through all that vast space, is sublimed into this narrow, room: and yet again this narrow room, or the concentrated virtue of it, is multiplied so as to be all of it in every moment of such a vast succession: As if after the extraction of the spirit, it were, multiplied to fill again the whole vessel with such: or after the burning glasses exposition to the sun, every line of light reflected from it or refracted through it, should become as hot and burning, as that single one which maketh the top of the Cone that terminateth the sun's rays. Now then, after we have multiplied such excesses, such burning points of pleasure, by every one of the several innumerable pleasures she enjoyeth thus all at once, and that she is effused upon with the whole activity of her Nature (which is all sense, all fire) What will be the product and total of such immense particulars? The vast number of atoms of sand, that Archimedes hath so wittily set down, and showed was sufficient to fill up all the space between our earth and the heaven; would not express this foot of our account; No not though it were never so often multiplied within itself. For those multiplications would still beget but terminated numbers; whereas this, is beyond all number, as she is above all time, by being above and beyond all quantity. Lastly, when for a crown and full completing of all this immense delight and happiness, we shall consider, that the state she is in, admitteth no lessening or change; that she is secure she can never lose any smallest parcel of it, nor be interrupted in the full and vigorous fruition of it; but that it will last ever the same, for all eternity; and beas it were still beginning, and still fresh; Your Lordship (I believe) will not expect from me any further reflection upon this dazzling subject. I will therefore put an end to my course and weak expressions, that fall infinitely short of what I feel within me, when, in silence and in quiet, I contemplate the joys and bliss of a separated soul, departed out of her body, after due cultivating herself there, by such a course of life, as Reason (could we but discern and follow her directions) prescribeth to every man: The deviating from whose rules, begetteth such an unhappy state as on the other side of this medal, I have endeavoured to engrave. Both which, I have sheved to be unchangeable, as long as the souls that enjoy them do remain naked and severed from their bodies. But what alteration they may be capable of, if ever they come to be clothed again by their bodies, and to be reunited to them; (by whose mediation only, new impressions may be made upon a soul) belongeth to another place to consider.   

THE X. CHAPTER.  
That the complete Beatitude of a separated soul consisteth in the sight of God.  
MAy I not seem unto your Lordship to have amplified & exaggerated beyond possibility of truth, the states either of weal or of 〈◊〉, belonging to a separated soul? If it happen, that any besides yourself, do read this discourse (especially if they be not enured to rigorous proofs, and to metaphysical speculations) I can not expect, but that they should look upon the immense happiness or misery, I have in it allotted to the share of a separated soul, as an unbelievable paradox. And they that should be most favourable to me, will be apt to suspect (according to their looser manner of judging moral affairs; which endure not such peremptory decisions, and so remote inferences heaped one upon an other) that however there seemeth to be a pretty connexion in all I have said, and an appearance of a sequel between the principles I have taken, and the conclusions I have deduced out of them; Yet, that I have driven them too far; and that in so perplexed and long a discourse, there may easily have slided in some little errors or equivocations in sundry joints of it, which in the last conclusion may have caused an enormous mistake, though every one of them in particular were almost an imperceptible one: And therefore, that these are rather pretty dreams, hanging handsomely together, of a much thinking and melancholic man; then real and solid truths. And at best, they will look admiringly upon them, as upon unconceivable expressions; without being at all moved and affected by them. But whatsoever others may think, who like unto ill husbands do look but upon the total sums of the accounts their stewards bring them in, without examining the particulars from whence they grow; I am sure your Lordship will exactly weigh the reasons, upon which I ground this bold and far, re-reaching conclusion; And when you have done so, I doubt not but you will find in it the same fault that I do; namely, that my expressions arrive not to set out the real vastness of the thing I speak of. To the reasons I have brought, I could have added many more in confirmation of this great truth, for, the arguments I have produced, are but a few, and that first occurred in the heat of writing, among the many that I might have employed, if I would have aimed at making a large and complete treatise upon this subject. But my aim, is, only to give your Lordship hintes of the chief points that I ●●ould recommend to your consideration, as relying more upon what your o●●ne strong discourse will suggest unto you upon such important considerations, after your thoughts are once wakened to attend to them; then upon any thing I should be able to say. I pretend but to spring the game for you: And then, if you like what riseth, you will fly it home.  
If an apology for the faintness of my expressions, was ever needful; certainly it is now most necessary, for what I shall say in this Chapter: Where I labour under such a Weight of matter, that I want language to express but a bare shadow of it. Yet I must not do as the great painter did, who having expressed as much passion as he could in the looks of the bystanders at Iphigenia's Sacrifice, drew a veil over her father's face; because he found his art too weak, to describe so great a sorrow as his; And so left it to the spectator's thoughts, to conceive what a one that might be. For if I say nothing more than I have done, of a separated souls bliss or woe: It may seem that I have no apprehension or suspicion of any thing, beyond what I have already laid grounds for. And on the other side, if I should go about to delineate scrupulously that which is the title of this Chapter; I should, not only miss of displaying to your Lordship the redundant light that shineth in this next region; but strike myself blind with looking too fixedly upon it. I will then go●● a middle way, And say enough to make you see, how that marvellous exuberance of good or bad I have showed doth betide a separated soul, is nothing, (not near so much as an atom to the whole world) in respect of what will be her lot in order to the seeing 〈◊〉 God Almighty: And yet, not engulfe myself far in this 〈◊〉 ocean, that hath no shore on any side.  
It is evident, out of what ha●● been already said; that, seeing this life is short, our acts in it mean, and our science in it very limited and narrow: And that on the contrary side, the next life is eternal, a soul's acts in it wonderful high, and her science immense: The great and final happiness of man, is not to be expected in this life, but in the next. It is evident also, that our happiness being to be respited till the next life, where we shall have no senses to reap pleasures by●● it can not consist in sensual pleasures: And consequently, that it must consist in the operations of the soul; which are nothing but knowledge, & what resulteth out of that. Now, all knowledge, is either of effects, or of causes. Of the first kind, is all that knowledge of a separated soul which we have been hitherto discour●●ing of: for, all the objects of it, are ●●omprised under the general head of Creatures. The knowledge of ●●heir Creator, can not be doubted ●●o be as much superior to that, as the nature and excellency of such a cause, is superior to the effect that proceedeth from it. And considering the dignity of so Almighty and infinite a cause, as God, the Creator of all things; a natural man may reasonably question whither a separated soul (who is but a particular and limited creature) be capable of arriving to see (that is, to know) this all comprehending and infinitely all exceeding cause. He may soon be resolved of his doubt, if he reflect upon the course of nature in wafting man kind to his long home: for doing so, he will see how this life is a perpetual progress in bettering, (or, designed to the bettering) of the soul's knowledge in the next life; as being the end of human nature, and the only thing that can give it rest and satisfaction. He will also see, that as in the next life there is an infinite increase of knowledge: so must there be also, an infinite increase of the desire to see the cause of those infinite effects which we shall then see & admire; Experience telling us, that a clear and lightsome understanding, is ever unquiett and thirsting to see the cause of the effect he taketh content in; And reason likewise abetting it, by showing how it is impossible to see an effect perfectly, if one pierce not into the cause of it; for unless he do so, he would not know why the effect is. So that it is evident, the whole course of nature, driveth to promote and advance in us the desire of seeing the universal cause of the infinite effects that a separated soul shall see. And consequently, the desire of seeing God our creator, is planted and engrafted in man by the intention of nature. What is so; is impossible to be frustraneous, and totally without effect; but of necessity will be fulfilled in some. For, Nature, is nothing else, but the rules that the infinite wisdom and goodness of God hath allotted to all creatures. And it would not agree with those attributes, to prescribe any of them a period, unto which none of their kind should ever arrive. Well may those he planteth in the Sphere of contigency, miscarry in sundry individuals; since it is the nature of contingency, that some should miscarry, whiles others arrive to their period. But if all should miscarry, and none succeed; it would no longer be contingency, but impossibility: and it might be concluded, that nature were unduely moulded; and the means to bring it to its end, unwisely ordered. And in our case, we might add, malice and cruelty, to the imprudence: since, by the course of our nature, we should be brought inevitably to an eternity of misery, by causing in us a most vehement and most actife desire of knowing and seeing that which we must never attain to see. And the best men, that have most cultivated their souls according to the prescriptions of nature, would drink deepest 〈◊〉 this bitter cup of gall and misery. Therefore, we may settle it for a firm and certain truth, that some souls shall arrive to see, (that is, to know) God, the universal cause of all things; as already I have proved, that all souls shall arrive to know all things else. Let us now compare these two knowledges, one with an other; and examine which of them is the greater and the more excellent. We are sure that God is an understanding: And consequently, he knoweth what he is to do, before he doth it. Whence followeth, that he being the cause and maker of all creatures, he understandeth and knoweth them all. Therefore, he that should have that great register displayed to him to read the contents of it, would find all creatures comprehended in it. And to know them there, is so much nobler, then to know them in themselves; by how much nobler and excellenter, they must necessarily be in that great unity and identity which they have in him, then in their own multiplicity and dispersion. Unto which we may add, the infinite excess of things, which he could, but never will, make; over those he hath or shall have made. And then we can not doubt, but that the knowledge of God, must be far beyond the knowledge of all creatures. But when besides this knowing of all creatures in God, we shall put into the scale to it the knowledge of God in his own nature and Essence; the other scale wherein is the knowledge of creatures in themselves, will not only become light beyond all proportion, but will vanish out of sight; like a candle, that though it give light enough to make a whole chamber luminous in the night, dissappeareth (Even whiles it burneth) if you set it in the beams of the noon day sun. They who understand metaphysics, will contemplate how the nature of Existence, is of a pitch incomparably above that of Essence. For Essences are but possibilities; dead notions; till Existence come to enliven and to actuate them. After which they are still defectible. For they carry always with them a capacity of being divided from their Existence; which if it happen, they presently fall back to their invisible Chaos. But Existence can never fade. The nature of it, is, to Be; and consequently, to exclude not being. It dwelleth in so high a region, as nothing can arrive thither, but whom It elevateth up to itself. Here, God hath his habitation. But I correct myself: this is improperly said; as though God, had his place among other things, likewise ranked there. He endureth no companion. He filleth the whole region. All of it belongeth to him singly. He alone possesseth it all. And therefore it followeth, that a ●●oule raised up to the knowledge and sight of him, must needs be infinitely more noble and more Excellent, than an other that hath but the Essences of things drawn into her by the knowledge of them. If then, these two knowledges, that of God, and that of creatures, could not agree together; but, that to acquire the one, the other must be deserted; There can be no doubt, but that the knowledge of creatures, aught to be abandonned for the sight of him. For it is evident, that the happiness which a soul must necessarily enjoy by seeing of him; is as much beyond that happiness which we have formerly described, resulting out of the vast knowledge which a soul hath in the next life; as that knowledge, exceedeth the trifling knowledge mankind enjoyeth in this world. But this is not the case. These knowledges are not incompossible. For it is the nature of knowledge, to be so far from one's hindering an other; that there is none, but of its nature, induceth and perfecteth some other knowledge. And accordingly, the knowledge of Almighty God increaseth the knowledge of creatures; showing us why they are; and solidating their knowledge, upon the unshakable foundation of God's knowledge. And consequently, the more that a soul shall know God; the more firm and the more strong will be the knowledge she shall have of creatures. Nevertheless, when we consider that God is an object, whose admirableness is equal to his own understanding: that is, exceeding ours, beyond what it possible to be conceived: we must conclude, that when a created understanding enjoyeth the knowledge and sight of him, it can not choose but be so employed and taken up by that sight, as not withstanding the vehement desire which we have showed it hath to see it, yet it hath not desire enough to cleave and apply itself to that object: much less, hath it any left for other things, but merely as it is carried on by the sight of God. And consequently, it mattereth not to a soul that seeth God, whither she see any thing else or no: but she is entirely contented and overwhelmed with the greatness of that fundamental sight. And although she knoweth and estimeth to the full the true worth of the sight of other things: Yet she is so drowned and absorbed in the sight of God (which so infinitely exceedeth the other) that she is no more affected with it, than a man would be with the having of that which is but a pure medium to help him to compass some end or good he desireth for its own sake. As for example; when a sick man drinketh a potion to recover his health; if the physic be such as hath no pleasantness, (but rather the contrary) in its taste; he valueth it not at all for its own sake, but only as it is a means to procure him health. And so, the soul that seeth God, accepteth of the sight of all creatures, as a mere consequent and appendix to the sight of God. Thus we see clearly, that in this composition of these two knowledges; the whole of both, is comprised in that which is the principal; And by it, is all the pleasure, and in it, all the good of them both. And consequently; God and the sight of him, is the true bliss of man; the sole end for which he was created; the period whereunto nature driveth, in all her course concerning him; and which once attained, he is quiett, entirely contented, and can wish for no more.  
On the contrary side; If a separated soul do fail of the sight of God, she cannot choose but know, that all this we have declared is true; And the evidence of it, will be confirmed to her by all the immense knowledge she shall have in the next world: And consequently, she must needs be unspeakably ●●rtured by this unhappy loss; and, ●●s it were, gnash her teeth and gnaw her own bowels, for remorse, shame, and indignation. And thus, the misery or happiness of a separated soul; by the intervening of God into the account, cometh to be raised and swelled above what in the last Chapter I declared of them, as much as what is infinite exceedeth the least parcel of Quantity; eternity, time; self-existence, defectible natures; And in a word, God, creatures.  
I am persuaded that after all this, your Lordship will not censure me of being niggardly in allowing pleasure or pain to souls in the next world. Yet seeing that the composition of man, includeth a body, as well as a soul: I conceive you will not be displeased, if I add a word or two concerning the pleasures of sense, which will belong to a happy soul: the contrary whereof, will be the lot of an unhappy one; And therefore what I shall say of the one, will require but turning over the leaf to refer it to the other. It is very true, a separated soul is eapable of no other pleasure, than such as belongeth to a soul: Yet if we look well into the matter, we shall find, that this pleasure of the soul compriseth also all the pleasures of the senses. For this end, your Lordship may please to remember, how I have formerly showed that in the sensual pleasures which a man enjoyeth in this life, it is not his senses that are affected with them. For, all pleasure dependeth of knowledge: And therefore, wheresoever we meet with expressions or semblances of pleasure, that are not accompanied with knowledge; we may truly say, they are but like such expressions and imitations of life, as cunning artificers bring to pass by wheels and engines enclosed in a box, whereby the statue of a man, of a beast, of a bird, of a fish, or of a fly, is made to imitate the natural motion of the creature it tepresenteth. But our senses are not endued with knowledge, as hath been explicated: Therefore the pleasure which they convey unto us, can not reside in them; but belongeth only to that part of us, where knowledge is; that is, to our soul: And in truth is nothing else but the very pleasure of knowledge. Hence it followeth, that since in the next life we have all knowledge; and consequently all knowledge gotten by sense; we must have there, also all pleasure of sense. So that we shall have there by our natural knowledge, all pleasure, both of sense and of understanding. Now, because the sight of God comprehendeth in itself, all pleasure of understanding; it followeth, that in it alone is comprised all pleasure of sense, and of understanding, together with that pleasure which is proper to the sight of God. Which in sum, is a collection of all good, in an act that of its own nature is unperishable. And so it is evident, the sight of God, is, true and complete happiness; including in itself, all that a man can desire; without fear of ever losing it: And therefore, perfectly quieteth the mind that enjoyeth it, for all eternity.  
I have said unperishable; not only, as the soul herself and her acts, are naturaly unchangeable: but, out of the speciality and propriety of this very act of seeing God. For, God of his own Nature, actuating all things that have Potentiality to him; and the soul, being by love a potentiality to God; It followeth, that as long as she loveth him, he can not forbear the actuating of her; which is, the being her bliss. And on the other side; his actuating of her, being her seeing that he is all her good; she can not cease from loving him, as long as he doth not cease from actuating her. So that, his actuation, being necessitated by her loving him; and her loving him, being necessitated by his actuating of her; the conjunction is made unseparable, by the very Essences of the two parts. Besides this, if we consider how divines teach us, that our beatifical vision is made by the immediate conjunof God Almighty his Essence to our understanding; and that by consequence, his being understood by himself, becometh the Being of our soul as it understandeth him: And, that his being understood by himself, is his very eternity: We shall find, that Eternity itself, is the duration of our soul, as she is the understanding or seeing of him. Now, if Eternity be the duration of our bliss; who can question whither it be unperishable, or no? See (My Lord) what a pitch we are arrived unto, to participate the very godhead itself, in its own Eternity! Is not what the Apostle hath told us, perfectly true, Quod, oc●●lus non vidit, ne●● aur●● andivit, nec in cor hominis ascendit, quae praeparavit Deus ijs qui diligunt ilum?   

THE XI. CHAPTER.  
That there is a certain method and way to bring mankind to Beatitude. And of the necessity of knowing it.  
WHat hath been hither to said; baving evinced the Immortality of the soul; and pointed at the pleasures of a happy one when she is out of the body, together with the miseries of an unhappy one; and glanced in gross, at the different ways which lead to these so different states; And settled this great Principle, That Beatitude is not to be looked for in this world, but in the next: It can not be doubted, but that when an understanding man shall have well considered all this, his heart will be set on fire to learn which is the straight, and beaten way, that may lead him with security to so great a good, intended him by God and Nature. For he can not choose but see, that no good of this world can be paragoned to that bliss; as also, that no action is worth the doing, that is not aimed at purchasing that hoped and desired Beatitude. But when to this he shall add; that although he travel not by design in the opposite way, but that merely through heedlessness or ignorance he do walk out of the right way; all such by-steppes do swerve his soul from her true good; and as far as they advance him not, so far they prejudice him: He will then conclude, that the method and course of arriving to this supreme and sole good; is not only the worthiest, the noblest, and the usefullest art he can study: But that in very deed, all others are but fond and vain misspendings of time; And that this only, is the business he is to employ himself a bout, with all his industry and application. He will be afraid of being ill directed: and will be solicitous to meet with a clear and distinct rule that may instruct him how to tread boldly in every step he is to make: And therefore will not be content with discerning in gross, that the entertaining of his thoughts and affections with intellectual goods, will make him happy; and that his settling them upon sensual ones, will bring him to a contrary condition: But seeing that these generals do branch out into numerous particulars, every one of which requireth a particular diffection, and proper motives and inducements to embrace or avoid them; He will be anxious and serupulous in seeking out the greatest certitude and infallibility that man's nature and the course of second causes can afford him, to be right in this point. In the mean time, during such his attentive and earnest inquiry, he will have the comfort of being secure that there is such an art: And that it is not like the specious undertakinges (for example) of those who pretend to an universal science, or Matrice tongue, whereby one may learn all others in very short time; which have no subsistence, but in credulous persons airy fancies. For he who is able to weigh in his thoughts the progress of God's providence in his ways to compass his desired ends upon this world; can not doubt but that he must have framed stronger engines to bring about the salvation of mankind, then for any other design that he hath set on foot within our reach and kenning: not only, as being the noblest end of all others; but even that, unto which the whole course of nature tendeth, and for which all this world that we converse with is made. And therefore he will conclude, that the security of obtaining the true means to gain Beatitude, must be as great (if not greater) than the security of men's living peaceably and happily together under the reglement of civil and politic constitutions, or what other security soever is in the government of man's life. And consequently, if he compare the certitude belonging to the science which is to bring mankind to Beatitude, with the certitude of such knowledges or rules as govern the arts that are usual among men, (as Agriculture, Military discipline, the art of navigation, and all sorts of handicraftes and trades) he will look for at the least as great in this science, if not greater. But all these sorts of men, being taught by continual experience, that when they work according tho the rules of their art, the effect succeedeth to their wish; are so secure in their several ways, that they can not admit any doubt of the certainty and truth of their rules. We have reason therefore to expect in this art of governing our actions in order to Beatitude, at the least such a security as may aequalise the security springing from experience that is in trades and manufactures. And this is by so much the more necessary, by how much the subject of this art, hath greater difficulties than the subjects of others arts. First, because this is both speculative and practical; whereas others are only practical. In others, every man desireth to do well: In this, for the most part, passions and interests make men desire not to do well. In others, no man doubteth of his rules; and all his labour is only to apply them rightly: But in this art, there is difficulty, as well to understand and believe the principles of it; as to apply them to our life when we know them. In other arts, a Master or teacher is readily met with, and the manner to acquire them is obvious: But in this, a main difficulty is the seeking and discerning of a right teacher. Lastly, other arts contain but some one part of a man's action and life; But this, comprehendeth all our whole life; and principally, the highest parts of it. I may therefore conclude, that the art of coming to Beatitude (which we call Religion) is the highest, the amplest, and the necessariest of all arts whatsoever. The highest; because the scope of it is to gain Beatitude: which is our chief End; and upon which, all that is otherwise pleasing to us ought to depend. The amplest; because in the use and application of it, it extendeth to all our actions. And the most necessary; because if he be not instructed in it, he will infallibly miscarry and perish. For as a man that is no Architect or Musician, and hath not learned how to build a house or to play a lesson on the lute; though he will not be blamed for his ignorance in those arts, (which happily is not through his own default; but by some impossibility of getting instructions in them) yet if the one go to build himself an habitation, or the other to touch a lute, they will not effect what they aim at: But the disordely machine of stones and timber of the first's imitation of a house, will fall upon his head; and the seconds inconcerted strokes and stops, will annoy his own and his hearers ears. In like manner, if a man have not the true knowledge of living so as to attain Beatitude; Although he be not blamed for incredulity, if it were never duly proposed unto him; yet he shall fail of obtaining the bliss that followeth out of a well ordered life, and shall inherit in the next world all those torments and miseries which I have expressed and showed to be the effects and sequel of a disordered life in this. And therefore, no excuse serveth a man's turn for his ignorance in this art: which is so absolutely necessary, that without it (be the cause what it will) he is lost and ruined for ever.   

THE XII. CHAPTER.  
How the method and science of attaining to Beatitude (which is true Religion) is to be learned. And that it is not come into the world by human reason or invention.  
THE art then of well living, or Religion, being a certain and a diffu●●ed science, reaching to every action of a man's life, as is delivered; Our next inquiry must be; how to compass the knowledge of it. It is evident that there can be but two ways to arrive unto it; namely; Either by one's own invention, or else by an others instruction: There being no third way of acquiring any science. For, a man cometh unto it, either by driving of consequences out of knowledges that are evident as soon as they are proposed (such like as are the axioms, upon which Mathematicians do build their demonstrations) And this is the course of invention: or else, he must be beholding to some other man who knoweth that science, for instructing him in it. And from such a one, he may derive his knowledge in two different manners: The first, when he that is posseded of a truth, doth so explicate it and all belonging to it, that at the last the learner seeth the truth itself, and comprehendeth all the reasons of it, as fully as his instructor doth; And so, though he be beholding to him for begetting such science in him; yet now he hath no longer need of him, but is as strong in it as he. And the gaining of knowledge in this manner, may be conceived to savour in some sort of invention, as well as of discipline. But the second, belongeth purely to discipline; As when the learner arriveth no higher than barely to understand what his teacher saith; and at the furthest, to have some moral likely hood that it is true; but at the head, relieth upon his teacher, as one who he is certainly persuaded can neither be ignorant of the truth he delivereth, nor can lie and deceive his disciple. For if either of these fail, the disciple can have no certainty or rational confidence of the t●●uth delivered him: And then consequently, in our present case of Religion, he will want that quiet, that security, & that content of heart, which accompanieth one's believing that he is in the right way of obtaining the happiness he aimeth at.  
Now to apply unto the knowledge of Religion, these two ways of attaining any science, invention and discipline: I will begin with examining whither it may reasonably be hoped, that human invention could discover it, or no. Some may think the negative; because in the mysteries of it there are no lines of demonstration; that is, no such connexion of them unto principles evident to us by nature, that out of them any man, be he never so knowing, or even an angel, could deduce them. To discuss this in particular, were to enter upon all the several mysteries of our faith; and show, how they either are, or are not, connexed with reason: which, besides that it were two long a work for my designed brevity, would be too heavy a burden for my weak shoulders; who am not so vain as to pretend to any more of divinity then what is necessary for every rational man to settle him in a right course; which amounteth to no more, then to the finding of a certain and infallible guide to carry him safely to the end of this important journey; But if your Lordship desire to satisfy yourself herein, give me leave refer you to Master White's. Dialogues (Under the name of Rushworth) of the judgement of common sense in choice of Religion, and to the same author's sacred Institutions newly come a broad into●● the world; in which learned works you will find abundanr content. That therefore which I shall note upon this occasion, is, That however there may be in the mysteries themselves, sufficient grounds to build demonstrations upon; yet in regard of us, there is no hope that we should be able to penetrate into them, without having first learned them otherwise. For our Nature is so encumbered with material phantasms; and all that we speak, or think, is delivered in such aequinocall words; and above all, most men are so blinded by passions and so biased by interests; and they ●●eete with so little to help them in this design; that very few (and they neither, not till towards the end of their life) can be expected to make any progress in so high an attempt. And therefore we may conclude, it is impossible, by invention to reach the amplitude of those mysteries which are necessary to be known, to bring mankind to Beatitude; the doing whereof, is the scope of that art or science which we call Religion. Unto which determination, drawn out of mature considering of the causes, no small corroboration is added by experience, showing us effectively how little mankind had advanced herein during the long space of 4. or 5, thousand years, that nature had continued from the beginning of the world, till our saviour's coming to teach it us completely. For if we look upon what the learned Grecians delivered to their Roman Masters, at the time when the overgrown wealth of Rome was proposed unto them to fire their wits to find out what Beatitude was (which was the learnedest age, the most abounding with great men, and the last, in which their studies were employed on that subject; and in a great measure sharpened by the opposition of Christianity, then beginning to grow into the world) we shall find that their attempts never reached with any steadiness beyond this life. For although some of them discoursed that the soul was immortal; Yet they held it rather as a plausible opinion, then as a solid truth whereon men should ground their actions, and should govern their lives here by it. As your Lordship (if you be desirous to satisfy yourself in this particular) may find in Lucretius, Tully, Seneca, Epitectus, Antoninus the Emperor, and several others of that strain; who prescribing remedies against the fear of death, and making exhortations to virtue in this life; do never extend their motives to any good obtainable in the next life. Which your Lordship may see proved at large in Lactantius; who purposely maketh it his task to do so. For of those philosophers who guessed furthest into the state of the future world, none were ever able to ftame any scantling of the diversity of the soul's treatement there, otherwise then by God's arbitrary distributing of reward, or inflicting of punishment: which way belongeth clearly to belief, and not to science. So that, as far as history can inform us, Man's nature and wit did never attain to the first principle of well living; which consisteth in considering what condition souls be in, after they are out of the body: so far were they from having discovered true motives to balance our passions, and to set us in an even way between the allurements of this world and the hopes of the next. And this is the good that we expect from Religion: whose scope is to raise and inflame the souls that are a wake, and to rouse those that are a sleep in the dalliance of this world, to the esteem and relishing of the happiness they may enjoy in the next.   

THE XIII. CHAPTER.  
That religion hath not been introduced into the world by one man's teaching an other. Nor by Angels instructing of men. But hath been taught by God. And that Christian Religion is the true one.  
IT can not then be expected that Religion should be iutroduced among men by invention or strength of wit. It remaineth that it must be by discipline and by teaching. Whereof, seeing there are divers kinds, or rather divers kinds of teachers; our next enquiry shall be, at whose hands we are to look for it. Our first position shall exclude one man's teaching an other. For, suppose that some one man should have beaten out by long study the true way of attaining to happiness (which nevertheless, out of the former discourse seemeth unlikely, if not impossible) the way for him to derive it to others, must be, either by demonstrating it to them by reason, or by winning their belief to it because he assureth them of it. But, demonstration, in a matter so high and so difficult, can not be communicated to many: very few being capable of the strength of such a proof, in much lower and easier subjects. It can not then be derived to the people by any other means then by their relying upon him that should positively tell them what they are to believe. But upon him, they could not rely: for he being but a man they can not be assured whither what he saith be true or false: either, because he might be deceived himself, and so deliver them a falsehood for a truth: Or else, because there might be considerations for him to propose it to them for true, although in his own hart●●lie knew or doubted it to be false: As for example, either his own particular profit, or glory, might prevail with him to do so; or he might deceive them for their benefit; keeping them by that means under good laws, and to an obedience that should make them live happily in this world. And from the suspicion of this latter, even the best man that can be imagined (so he be no more but a man) can not be free. For, if he want power to introduce among men that which he judgeth best for them; it may be doubted that he ayme●●h at bringing about his designs by art and cunning; according to the old parable, of sowing the fox's skin to the lions to make it reach. Now if all these difficulties happen in the case of one man's propagating to the multitude this science of Religion, which he is supposed to have beaten out by his own industry & learning: They would be no whit less, but rather more, when such 〈◊〉 and demonstrators should be many. And without their being many, it can not be conceived how the generality of mankind that is spread so wide in place, an of so long durance in time, can be imbued with it. Add to this, the much that half learned men, and half wits, would object against Religion proposed by such as pretend to rely on it because they have demonstration for it; which would be far more plausible to the vulgar of mankind, than all that can be said to solve those objections; considering the profoundness and subtlety that can not chose but be in such a demonstration, and the ungraspableness of the very Nature, and Essence of a separated soul, which is the necessary entrance into it: So that such men would give over their inquiry and attention, before ever they advance so far as to weigh the reasons whither or no a soul can be without a body; because they can not conceive what such a soul is: And yet this is the hinge & fundamental point of all Religion. So that it can not be expected, that if there were no more efficacious means then this to persuade mankind; they should by virtue of this only, disseise their harves from the goods of this world (to which the course of our nature glueth them strongly) and settle them upon unconceivable ones in an other world; from whence they have not experience of any soul that hath come to assure them thereof, and to inform them what kind of inhabitants they shall become there, when they arrive to the possession of those goods. We may then from this discourse conclude, that for prudent men to receive Religion in the way of belief, they will expect to have it built upon a stronger rock then human credit.  
The next stop above the degree of men, is the Sphere of spirits or of Angels. Among whom, seeing there be good ones, and bad ones; let us begin with considering what we may expect in this case at the hands of these latter: And let us suppose them to converse with men, by giving them Oracles; as ancient stories do record of Apollo at Delphos, or of Jupiter Hammon in Lybia, and the like. Can any thing they shall declare and reach, be a sufficient ground of belief? Surely, if ever any such Oracle were animated with its ambitious soul (as is pretended) it is not reasonable to expect that the spirit of lying should always speak truth. And if he do not; one single lie, taketh away the credit of all the Religion that he should have founded. For, if he can, and sometimes do, lie: Whence may it be certain that he doth not lie, when he delivereth such unknowable things as those which concern the state of the other world? And consequently, if mankind had no better security than this, the greate●● and highest design of nature, woul●● be loosely gimalled, and more ●●●terring then every mean trade. But let us consider what security we may have from good spirits. If such should denounce Religion to us; it must be either in their own names, that they would speak; or it must be in Gods, as his Ambassadors. If in their own names, what confidence can he to whom they speak, have, that they may not be as well of the tribe of lying spirits, as of the blessed Angels? If he ask them, whither there be not such deceiving ones, who were once their companions, and of the same nature as they; and are since become wicked and malicious; they will acknowledge there are, And then, what infallible marks can he have to secure him, that these he conferreth with, may not be such, though they style themselves Angels of light? And their very speaking in their own names, may justly render them suspected: for, if they were such as they pretend to be; that is, out of danger of falling (as their mates have done) by having perpetual sight of the eternal verity; then, their very being such, would reasonably make a man expect that what they deliver him of that verity and of the way to arrive to it, should rather be a message from him that maketh them so stable and indefectible, than an instruction proceeding from their own single impulse. And after all, if he do believe them to be of the happy sort, and for that cause do give credit to what they say; it is in effect upon the score of him that enlighteneth and strengtheneth them, that he believeth them; And the speaking of such, is rather from him, then from themselves. We may therefore conclude, that there never was, nor ever could, or can be, any true Religion among Gentiles or Idolaters, or among any who do not profess their belief hath its source from the true omnipotent God, the self-verity, and the spring-bonity. Nor can they pretend to such certainty of rules for bringing them to Beatitude, as experience showeth accompanieth the rules of all trades and manufactures. All these then being excluded from all pretence to true Religion; and all created instructors, appearing of too mean credit to settle it in the world; It remaineth only that we have recourse to God alone for this supreme blessing; And that we inquire what laws and ordinances he hath given mankind, to govern and direct them until the end of the world, that they may attain to Beatitude. And we find no marks in story of any, that with likelihood we may pitch upon, besides those tree memorable laws which have succeeded one an other: to wit, The law of Nature; the written one; and the last, given by Christ. The first of these, can not be admitted now to any plea; the succession of it being so interrupted, that nobody can claim the inheritance of that faith, Nor doth anybody know the feveral contents and articles of it, further than as some few of them may be supposed to be included in the written law; and by the succession of them who profess the written law, derived in them and in Cristians to our days. The Jews can as little pretend that the law which God give them by Moses, is the religion whereby the whole bulk of mankind in all ages is to be saved. The very nature and essence of it, and all the main circumstances that accompany it, do contradict that claim. For it is manifestly limited to selected persons, to a determined time, and to a narrow place. Nor is it a good objection, that some Proselytes of other nations were allowed to be adjoined to the seed of Abraham, in participation of rites and sacrifices: For such an adiunction could not reach to whole nations; but contrariwise, some were expressly forbidden by name. And so, their law, was not a law for mankind; but only for the family of Abraham. Besides, God himself determined the land in which it should be practised: So as, sacrifice could not be lawfully made, nor altars erected, in the way of their profession, in any country but their own: Which convinceth that it was never intended for the salvation of mankind, whose numerous progeny is dispersed over the face of the whole earth. And it is clear that their Messiah was promised them at the end of the reign of David's house, and before their dispersion into the whole world: both which can not be denied to have been long since performed: And consequently, it was a temporary Religion, and not designed to last till the world's end; which is a necessary propriety of that Religion, whereby all nations (that is, all mankind) in all ages, are to obtain Beatitude. It remaineth then, that Christian Religion must necessarily be the law that God hath designed for the salvation of all men, at all times, and in all places. Yet because Mahomet pretendeth as well as Christians, that his law is derived from God; it will not be amiss to examine his claim in a word or two. First, there is a great disparity between the Christians and the Turks law, in this; that Mahomet pretendeth not to be himself God, as Christ doth; Nor that he had his law immediately from God; but that it was sent him by an angel. Next, he alloweth Christ to have been a Prophet; and yet taxeth him of lying for having given himself out to be God. By doing which, he maketh his own doctrine rely but upon a fallible authority. For since he objecteth lying to Christ, whom he alloweth to be a Prophett: What security can one have, that he who pretendeth not to be more, lieth not as well as he? Again; Christians pretend a publicity of infinite miracles done by Christ, attesting his godhead and the truth of his doctrine: Mahomet and his sectators, none; or at least, such as by their own confession are but obscure ones. Lastly; the abominations of Mahomet's law, against both reason and nature; and a total submitting of the soul by it to bodily objects; do evidently convince, that the observing it is not a promoting and perfecting of Nature towards the great end of Beatitude, deduced in some of the former chapters; but a strong and main alienation from it: and consequently, a peruersion of human nature, and a carrying of mankind to eternal disgustes, miseries, and torments.   

THE XIV. CHAPTER.  
How Christ's doctrine hath been conveyed purely and entirely to succeeding ages. That puritanes and Protestants can not lay claim unto it.  
IT is then only the law of Christ, that can pretend with reason to the glorious title of a doctrine, able to bring a man securely to his desired happiness. Let us then examine in the next place, if all they who give themselves out to be Christians, do deserve that name, and in reality and effect be such. No man will doubt, were he Jew on infidel, but that if Christ were God (as Christians do profess and believe) he was both able and willing to deliver unto his flock the truth so necessary for them. Which once granted, it presently appeareth, that Photinians, Arians and all such pretended Christians as denied Christ's being true God, had no Religion; they bringing down the certainty of faith, to an authority under God; that is, to a fallible one, as I have already showed; and consequently, subject to falsity; and therefore not to be relied upon. For, Christ spoke not an others dictates, as Moses did; nor in his difficulties, had recourse to God, as to his lord or Master: but spoke as a master, and wrought as a Lord; as one, from, and of, himself: and who when he prayed to his father, did it for our example, not for his own necessity; addressing himself unto him, by the ●●ame of father, not of master.  
But setting a side all such blasphemers, as persons no ways considerable; let us look back upon the maxim we have formerly set down; to wit, That he who li●●eth not well, that is, who doth 〈◊〉 actually tread in the way which ●●eadeth to Beatitude, shall not be happy; how excusable soever he be for not knowing the way or law: And then we shall straight discover, that it is not sufficient for any man to say, he hath Christ's doctrine, and is willing to follow it; unless he be certainly assured that he have it. Nor can he be sure that he hath it, unless he have some infallible means whereby to discern it from false and pretended doctrines. This infallible means, can be none other, but the infallibility of the authority and conveyance, by which this doctrine cometh to him. If Christ, whom he believeth to be God, did speak himself immediately to him; he would require no more: But seeing he is departed many ages since, from conversing with mankind; we must inquire what infallible conveyance of his doctrine to us, we may rely upon. It is clear, there can be but two ways to perform that work; the one, by writing; the other, by being handed down from generation to generation; by the mouths of them who first and immediately received it from Christ, and taught it to those that they conversed with; who again preached it all over the world; and they who learned it of them, taught it at their turn to those who succeeded them; and so from generation to generation, and from age to age, is come down to our present age. The universality which (Even in the very beginning, and whiles the doctrine was fresh in their memories that had it from its source) requiring a great time to the forgetting and extetminating of it every whe●●e, it may be conceived to have ●●in conserved pure and entire all this while, in some great part of the world. Third way, there is none: unless peradventure we make a subdivision of writings; distingui●●ing betveene such as came from ●●he pens of those teachers who ●●eceiued what they write, immedia●●ly from Christ; and whose words 〈◊〉 authentical and law●● And such other writings, as being composed by authors in succeeding age●●, do inform us what the Church hath held in all times. This sort of writers, may seem to partake of both ways: Of the first, as being writers: And of the second, as far forth as they are in a manner a part of the hands through which Christe's doctrine hath been conveyed unto us. These two ways may seem to have been shared between the french Caluinistes (among us, called Puritans or Presbyterians) and the English Protestants or common prayer men: But in reality, they have them not. For, the Puritan, as soon as he hath highly and peremptorily pronounced, that nothing but scripture must be judge of Religion; and that the word of God, pure and alone, must govern; he presently maketh you a Catalogue of articles, which you must hold, if you will not be excommunicated and cost out of his Church. And however he may pretend that he de●●iueth these articles out of scripture: yet, the words of them not being in the Scripture, he can not deny but that they are his own collections and interpretations: So that if he miss in interpreting Gods written word; the sense, as well as the words, will be his, and not the Scriptures. Now the Protestant; seeing the unreasonableness of this proceeding, that a particular man or company should oblige all men to receive his interpretation of Scripture; thinketh to take a more plausible course, by pretending to explicate Scripture by the fathers; especially, by the fathe●●s of the primitive ages. But this seemeth to me more irrational than the puritanes proceeding. For, first, he goeth against his own principle, by appealing to the fathers after having pr●●tested against all human authority, 〈◊〉 fallible. Secondly, he maketh himself judge which of the father's ●●re to be received; and when; and ●●hat of them to be rejected; and how to be understood: And so draweth the question, from the sole book of Scripture, to the infinite volumes of fathers. And lastly; that he may serve himself of the father's manner of expressions, jointly with his own conceits and opinions; (so to bolster out his fancies with the semblance of their authority) he confoundeth his own language with their manner of speaking; and neither understandeth himself, nor (much less) can make an other man understand what he saith. Like those commentors of Aristotle and S. Thomas; who not being bold enough to deny their authority, which hath taken so deep roots in all the schools of Christendom; do render their doctrine, and themselves, unintelligible, by their wrested and confused interpretations. Yet I deny not, but that a right Protestant, is in many points nearer truth than the Presbyterian●● For, his reading of the fathers, and his allowing them some kind of estimation; can not choose but work some good effect in his mind. But that which I complain of him for, is, that the rule he pretendeth, (as he useth it) is more intricate than the Presbyterians; and his discourse, is more ambigous and confused, by his counterfeiting to hold with the fathers, when in truth he renounceth them.   

THE XV. CHAPTER.  
A further consideration, of the insufficiency and unreasonableness, of the late Protestants proceeding, in point of Religion.  
Truly it seemeth to me so evident, that neither of these have any rule of Christianity; as I have oftentimes wondered when I have heard some men (in other things, appearing to be prudent) say in earnest that they believe they have one, and grow warm in their maintaining so much. For, there being but two channels whereby Christ's doctrine can descend to us; writing; and delivering from hand to hand; How can they pretend to Christianity, who accept of neither of these? As for tradition by hands; they clearly defy it. And as for Scripture; If they take that for their rule, why do they bind men to opinions that can not be decided out of Scripture, but remain still disputable after all is said that can be urged from thence? Well may they, in pursuance of their own rule quarrel at such as shall deny any point that is clear and evident in Scripture: But to anathematise, and punish (when they have the power) those that produce out of Scripture as fair proofs for their opinions, as any thing they are able to bring against them; seemeth to me a great injustice. Certainly, nothing can be more-evident, then, that in all the points which have been disputed, out of Scripture alone, between Catholics and them, now almost an 100 years; the texts produced by them, have not at all inclined the balance on their side; but rather (if I may'be allowed to give my verdict, in a case where I am in●●ere●●ed) it hath weighed notably on our side. And therefore, let them pretend what they will; it is clear, that Scripture is not their rule. As for the Protestants pretending to the authority of the fathers in interpreting Scripture, the case is yet more clear, if more may be. For, they stick not to say upon every occasion, that the fathers erred; and that they might err, both in common and in particular. So that, theirs is but like a cobweb lawn lining: (of no substance or solidity) to the Nettelike cloak, wherewith the Presbyterians do endeavour to hide their foul play, when they recede from the rule which themselves propose; and is looked through at the first casting of ones eyes upon it: And in this regard, both their cases are the very same. And to speak plainly; the rule common to both these, and to all others, who proposing Scripture for their rule, do afterwards prefix particular opinions to their Church; neither is, nor can be any other, than a heady pride and wilfulness, to bind all other men to their, not knowledge, but guessing. Now if such guessing, can be judged a sufficient means, for themselves and others, to be assured of those things, without the doing whereof mankind must be eternally miserable; these men may pretend to Christianity: But for my part, I can entertain but a very mean estime of it. I know, ●●euerall of them are held for learned men: And that, not only in their own opinions, but by many others besides: How justly they deserve that title, will appear if we consider, what true learning and knowledge in any science, is. I take it, to be an assurance of the nature of the things that are treated of in that science. Such, Mathematicians have in their profession; such, the masters of all the arts that belong to man's life. Such, Philosophers have, (or should pretend to have; though some, unworthy the name of Philosophers, do content themselves with probable opinions) and much more, divines aught to have such assurance of what concerneth their profession; seeing, that any mistake therein, exposeth men to eternal ruin and misery. Now the learning of these men that would pass for so great divines, wherein doth it consist? They pretend to no other, then to know that hath been said by others. Which others, are God and men; to wit, what hath been said by God in Scripture, and by men in their books. If they rightly understood all this, they might with reason ha●●e a good conceit of themselves. But let us examine how they behave themselves, in their proceeding with both these. As for Scriptures, I have already touched how their penetrating into the sense of them, is but a mere guessing: Yet were it something, if they could make it appear that they guess fairly. I will allow them so much, if they can show how any of their divines in any one question, hath faithfully paralleled the places of Scripture used to be brought on each side; and hath fairly compared and weighed them in the balance, one against the other, and hath given each of them their full weight; and then hath pronounced an orderly sentence, in this sort; that by reason of plurality of places, propriety of words, efficacity of texts, and the like, the advantage falleth to this side, rather than to that. If they should pretend they are able to do this (which I am sure they never have as yet performed) I would entreat them to show me a learned logic of words, out of which they had extracted the rules whereby the sense of words may be pondered; and whereby one may be certain when their sense is demonstratively known, and when but probably; and by what weights, one probability appeareth greater than an other; And after all this pains, I would tell them (and they can not deny it) that as long as both senses are probable, the less probable may peradventure be the true one: And so, all their labour is lost. But let us examine, if their learning be any greater in human writers. The depth of it is, to boggle at any dark place of History, or of fathers; and by it, persuade such men as are not conversant in antiquity, to frame a judgement coutrary to the public practice of the Church of those ages. As for example; what can be more public and notorious, than the succession and authority of Bishops; then the being of monks and nuns; then the principality of the Bishop of Rome; then the practice of the mass, sacraments, and ceremonies; then the custom of praying for the dead; then the use of Crosses and of pictures? And even for all these, they make it their labour (and for which they pretend the title of subtle and deep scholars) to persuade you, out of some not fully declared sentence of a father, speaking upon the by, that there were no such things as these in antiquity. Yet had our contryman more sincerity than this; who in his translation of S. Augustine's confessions, professeth plainly, that he had left out many things, because S. Augustine had erred in them. So the Centurists, and Luther, and Calvin, and all novelists, whiles there remained any ingenuity among them, confessed that the opinions which they rejected, were ancient errors of the fathers. But now, all their learning consisteth in belying of antiquity, and in pinning a false mask upon the venerable face of it. How then can men deserve the name of learned, who take not the course to know any thing at all? Nevertheless, they must pass for great divines; when peradventure they are all together ignorant, what divinity is. Divinity signifieth a science, that followeth out of faith or out of the discipline of salvation; in such sort as Euclides Elements do follow out of the definitious and axioms, which he hath prefixed as grounds for his books, and that he hath supposed before them. In like manner, faith must be supposed to divinity. But in s●●eed of doing so, these men who term themselves divines, do spend all their pains and employ all their scholarship, in opposing the received tenets of faith. So that they are such eminent divines, as he would be a Geometrician, who in steed of studying throughly Euclides Elements, should never go beyond the first leaf; but should busy himself many years, and write great volumes, to prove that his definitions are ill contrived, and that this axioms are false. And yet must such silly aequivocation, so puss them up, and persuade their followers they are so great clerks, that all Antiquity, all the latter and present ages, and common sense itself, must be deserted to adhere to these learned Masters. Whereas those who are truly divines, are beyond common Christians, and do begin their science and employment at the height of those notions which belong to common Christians: Whiles these, whom the Protes●●ants term divines, do never attain to the knowledge that the simplest Christians are imbued with, by relying upon tradition and upon the authority of the Church. But enough of this: since it seemeth that God himself hath taken it to his task to ruin them wheresoever they appeared to have power.   

THE XVI. CHAPTER.  
The Socinians and the Independents, excluded from having the true doctrine of Christ.  
THESE two, being rejected from holding the rule of Scripture; (Whatsoever they may pretend:) there remain yet two other families who lay claim to that rule; namely, the Independents, and the Socinians. Their difference, I take to be this: That the Independent acknowledgeth the book we call the Bible, to be truly the word of God; and accordingly, maketh it his precise study to know what is said in this book. All that no lest findeth there, he holdeth for most certain and holy. He bindeth others no further, then to acknowledge the letter; and to draw the best meaning out of it, that of themselves they are able. He accounteth all who do so, to be of his religion and communion, if they agree thereunto. If they will not communicate with him, he presseth them not: but if they will, he refuseth them not. The Socinian his difference from the Independent, I take to be this: That he judgeth the Bible to be the wisest and most authentical book that ever was written; such a one, as no other human writing can contest with it; yet not such a one, as no ●●ippe or error might fall into it; even in matters of importance, and concerning our salvation: And therefore, that where reason is absolutely against it, he may seave it; though for civility sake, he will rather choose to put a wrong gloss upon it, then plainly refuse it. Further, he thinketh it not fitting to no lest anyman, who beareth the like respect to Scripture, and proceedeth modestly in his actions. Now it is clear, that both of these do stick to the rule that they propose to themselves, for attaining the science of Beatitude: And therefore their deficiency, is such as human nature is liable unto; It being incident to all men, to fail in their discourse, when it is long. Whereas Protestants and Puritans do in the same breath contradict themselves, and renounce the Principle which they lay for the first foundation of their receding from that Church they were borne in, and of their erecting a new one. This proceeding, no man can excuse from barbarous impudence, and irrationality; or admit them among the pretenders to religion, upon the score of Scripture; which at every turn, they change into their own fancy. But as I can not but praise the other two for going consequently, and for sticking to their rule and principle; and so esteem them to be rational men and such as deserve to be discoursed with: So withal, I can not allow that they have (properly speaking) a religion among them, or such a rule as they may securely rely upon for the salvation of their souls: Especially the Socinian; according to the explication that I have here made of his tenets: which whither it agree, or not, to all those who pass under the name of Socinians, I dispute not; as not levelling my arguments against Persons but against opinions. Against these then that I have related, I thus frame my opposition. If it be true (as I have already declared) that ignorance of the way to Beatitude, will hinder v●● from ever arriving to it; And that it importeth not, whither it be by our own default, or no, that we are ignorant of it; (for be it upon what score you will; and be we as inculpable as you will suppose; still, the missing of the way, will bring us to a wrong period and end of our journey; where we shall be plunged in infinite and eternal miseries:) It followeth that it concerneth us mainly, to provide that we have more security in this point, then in any other art or trade whatsoever that belongeth to our well being in this life. Now whither the Socinian have such security or no, in the rule he relieth upon to bring him to Beatitude, is that which we are to examine. It can not be pretended that Scripture is his rule: for, seeing he supposeth Scripture to be fallible, and that upon all occasions he correcteth it by his discourse; it is not Scripture, but his discourse, and his reasoning, that is his true and supreme rule: which is the cause that they, or some of their party, did denominate themselves Sanarations, from right reason. Now, seeing that his discourse, is not confirmed by sensible and real effects abetting it; (as for example, by miracles, wrought to take away all doubts or scrupules against it; or by the return of souls from the other world, to assure us by their experience that we may safely rely upon such a rule, as having brought them to Beatitude) It can not be denied, but that it hath no other strength, then that which it comprehendeth within it self & carrieth in its own bowels. And this strength, ought, to be no less than certainty and unanswerableness, if he intend that it shall settle all doubts and quiett all scruples in this affair; where it importeth every man to be cautious, inquisiti●●e, doubtful, and scrupulous to the utmost. For if his discourse be any degree under certain, it is but probable: And every point that is but probable, the contrary of it may peradventure be true: And consequently, all bare probable points, are either false, or el●●e not known to be true; which is no better than false, to a man that can not be satisfied with less than an infallible rule to rely on. And therefore, the Socinian can not satisfy a reasonable man, nor doth he give a good account of himself, unless he profess to demonstrate his assertions. And not only those assertions, wherein he contradicteth Scripture; but also those, wherein he agreeth with it. For, seeing that Script●●re hath with him no further authority, then of being probable; all that he gathereth there, can have no more●● force then of being likewise probable; and consequently, to make it infallible, he must support and Corroborate it with a demonstration. But what I have already said about demonstration in this subject, will cool our hopes in expecting any at the Socinians hands: Neither do they (as far as I ha●●e understood) pretend there unto. There remaineth then, only the Independents rule of attaining to Beatitude, to be discussed. Whose proceeding is certainly more allo●●ble, more judicious, and more pious, than all the others that we have hitherto looked upon. For, he resolveth his belief and groundeth ●●his actions, wholly upon him that can neither be deceived himself, nor deceive others. In this matter, he is not content with any less authority●● then God's wor●● What he findeth not in Scripture, belongeth not to his creed. Infine, he giveth Scripture its true value; and he sticketh firmly to it, as his rule. But if all this may not suffice, unless he have security of his tenets out of Scripture; I doubt he will have a hard task to prove them sufficient for salvation. For, omitting that he must be assured of the texts of Scripture which he maketh use of; that those very words which belong to his purpose, are in the original, that the translation he readeth, is not discrepant from the original, in as much as concerneth his text (both which are impossible to be known by ordinary sticklers in controversy) I am persuaded it is much harder to demonstrate out of words the way to Beatitude, than out of natural principles; if not wholly impossible. Th●● which, though I will not here dispute, (it being largely handled b●● others; and particulary by Maist●● Rushwor●● in his second Dialogue yet I will crave leave to represent unto your Lordship how the prejudice of continual experience, for now at the least 1600 years, is strong against the Independents undertaking. We know well, how during all this tract of time, there hath still been great disputing out of Scripture against sundry most important propositions; divers of them directly impugning our saviour him●●elfe and his dignity and Godhead; for the settling whereof in men's beliefs, it appeareth that a great part of the Scripture was written: And yet peradventure, never a one of them was ever convinced and beaten down by Scripture, or by any other means then by Tradition and by the title of possession of the contrary Doctrine. And shall not the consideration of this success after so many attempts, make us very doubtful and a, that nothing can be convinced out of ●●ole Scripture? I have heard some, ●●ho have employed their studies to be exact in the controversy about Scriptures being the rule of faith, challenge others that have pretended to have greatest skill and insight in Scripture, to convince out of it alone that there was but one God (a point wherein all Christians agree) and t●●ey could never receive satisfaction in it. The ecclesiastical stories inform us, how the Arians defended their denying of our saviour's d●●uinity, by pregnant texts of Scripture; and could not be convinced, otherwise then by Tradition: And how it fared in like manner with sundry others. The very nature of words; so subject to diverse senses and understandings: The length of the Bible; whereby all sorts of metaphors and improper manners of speaking do occur in it: And th●● reiterating of the same speech, diversly, in divers occasions: Do render it mainly suspicious, that it is impossible to make a demonstration for proof and explication of the true meaning of any passage in it, which great wits have engaged themselves in explicating a contrary way. And therefore, before a man can rationally rely upon Scripture for a sufficient rule to bring him to Beatitude; he must be satisfied and convinced, that there is a means, whereby he may certainly know what is the sense of Scripture; and how he may compass this means. For otherwise; all that he draweth our of Scripture, is uncertain; And no less uncertain it is, whither what he hath drawn, be enough; or whither more be not necessary: And in a word, he remaineth on all hands in perpetual inc●●titude.   

THE XVII. CHAPTER.  
That Tradition is the only means of conveying Christ's doctrine to succeeding ages.  
OF the two ways of conveying Christ's doctrine to mankind in all ages (the first of which, is by writing; and that ●●e have been hitherto reflecting upon) there remaineth only the latter (which is by handing it from one to an other) to be considered. A doctrine so conveyed, implying thereby that it hath been in all ages; that is to say, in the universality of time; belongeth only to Catholics, to lay claim unto it; and only they who do so, may properly be styled Catholics. Neither can it be objected, that the greeks may pretend it in such points of faith as they differ in from those that live in communion with the Roman See. Well may they, in matters of custom: But these are of such a nature, as they may have been different in several places, even at the very origine of them; without any inconueniency at all: And consequently, in different places, there may have continued different practices, ever since the Apostles time. But let us examine more particularly what advantages or prerogatives, this way of transmitting Christe's doctrine from hand to hand until our days, hath over the retrieveing it in Scripture. First, we shall find that it hath the prerogative of Possession; All adversaries having found the Catholic Church (out of which they broke) in a quiet credulity that her doctrine was so descended from the Apostles. Next, it hath the prerogative of all the approbation and commendation that our fathers could give it; by themselves, by their laws, by their rewards and punishements, and by whatsoever else they could invent for the continuation of it. It hath a high strain of testification, above all that is to be found in our titles to land, inheritances, legacies, bargains, and all other moral transactions and concernments whatsoever. It hath the testimony of all our adversaries, to have continued for a thousand years, even in those points wherein they dissent from us: but in all others wherein they agree with us, they allow our continuance from the very origine of Christianity. So as it can not be doubted, even by our adversary's confession, but that this way is capable of bringing down truths unto us uncorrupted. But above all, it hath the evidence or its fidelity in conveying to posterity the doctrine of salvation, by the connexion of one age to an other, Out of this maxim: That it is impossible, all fathers through out the whole world, should conspir●● to deceive their Children, in so important an affair. For, this maxim doth so connect the knowledge of every century, to what was known in the century immediately preceding it; that it is impossible for any error to creep in between them. And the maxim it self; is as evident as any that belongeth to mathematics: And so much more clear than any of those, as perpetual daily practice; beateth us into the knowledge and continual view of it. For, as no man could doubt but that the brains of that person were crazed, who conversing with merchants upon the Exchange in London, and hearing them speak daily of Paris, and of moneys they remit hither, and of letters they receive from thence; Should nevertheless think confidently there were no such town as Paris, because he was never there himself: So, much more, ●●ould he be held for a mad man, that living in England, and conversing with all forces of people, reading their books of all kinds, hearing their sermons, considering their laws and the change of some particular ones in matter of Religion, and innumerable other particulars, which speak manifestly how Catholic Religion had course in England before Henry the VIII. changed it; should nevertheless deny it, because he lived not in the time when that Religion was publicly professed. For in this case, the number of witnesses is far greater than in the other. Now, when a motive of human prudence is so prevalent a one, as to brand him with want of common sense, who should not assent to what it induceth; It is a manifest sign of a conquering & axiomatical evidence in the proposition that he should so deny. And consequently by this discourse, (applying it to every age since Christ's planting of his Church) the descent of Christian or Catholic Religion from Christ is as evident as any Geometrical demonstration whatsoever.  
One great prerogative more, I must not omit, that Tradition hath above Scripture: which is, that Scripture is delivered in precise and determinate words; whose sense, is not understood: But Tradition, is delivered in almost as many several expressions, as there be several persons that deliver it. So that, in Tradition, the sense is constant, though the words be uncertain: Whereas in a truth delivered by writing; though the words be agreed upon, yet the meaning of them is disputed of. And therefore, seeing it is the meaning that we are to govern our actions by; and, that words; without meaning, are of no weight; ●●t is evident, that Tradition is a rule, And that Scripture is none.  
But why do I trouble your Lordship with such scrupulous balancing of these rules one against the other; since by my discourse in excluding ●●ll former pretended rules, it ap●●eareth evidently, that if Tradition ●●e not the light which God hath hung out to his Church, whereby to know true doctrine from false; when he sent his Apostles to preach, and promised he would be with them (that is, with their preaching, or with their successors in preaching) until the end of the world: We may truly conclude, there is no light or certainty to guide his Church by. Which is as much to say, as; that when he had built the world for men; and had fitted them with all things, requisite for their natural and civil life in this world; he failed and mistook in the main and chief end for which he had contrived all the rest.   

THE XVIII. CHAPTER.  
Against the opinion of some divines that place Tradition in the consent of fathers that have written in their several ages: and against some other opinions of particular divines. As also against Naturalists and Socinians.  
I am not ignorant, that among us, there are some divines, who as they acknowledge Tradition to be the rule of faith (for without doing so, they could not be styled Catholics) so, they place Tradition in the consent or fathers through all ages. But I conceive I shall not wrong them, if I say that in doing thus they consider only themselves, and not the Church; which is composed of all sorts and of all degrees, of persons; simple and wise; learned and unlearned. For no man is so weak, as not to see, that it were a wilder arrant, to send the commonalty of Christians, to the multitude of Fathers for their faith; then to remit them to the Scriptures. It can not be doubted, but that the rule of faith, must be somewhat within the people's kenning. All sorts of persons are capable of discerning whither, or no, they are in the public communion of those who profess they have received their doctrine by a continued sequel of teachers succeeding one an other: But, for studying of fathers, or Scripture; the universality of mankind, wanted for the most part capacity, talents, and leisure. And no small difficulty will be added to this task, by our adversaries endeavouring all they can, to cast a mist before men's eyes and to obscure what of itself is mo●● clear. I take therefore the conse●● of fathers, to be a confirmation an●● a testimony to learned men, of th●● Tradition that is delivered by hands: but not to be the substance of Tradition: which of its nature might have been (if so God had pleased) and would have maintained its unshaken & invincible force, though there had been neither writings of fathers, nor Scripture.  
Others, seem to think, that some points of faith are known by Tradition (or, as they call it by the unwritten word) to wit, those whereof they find not sufficient proof in Scripture: but that for the main ones, we are to have recourse to Scripture. Now for these, I admire at the looseness of their discourse; when they allow Tradition to give assurance of those points which are the outmost, and which can not be known without the former; and yet will not have the former to be known by the same Tradition. And therefore I imagine it is but a mistake in their delivering themselves; and that their meaning is, that all points are known by Tradition●● but some, not only by tradition, but by Scripture too. And it is evident, that all they who refer unto Tradition, the knowing that Scripture is the word of God, and that this book is the Canon of Scripture; must needs relate all certainty of faith, to Tradition; even of what they think they demonstrate out of Scripture.  
Other divines there be, who add to Tradition, some power of revealing new verities to the Church. But even they themselves do confess that the knowing that there is such a power, must rely finally upon Tradition. And then, seeing it is a point not fully resolved of among ourselves; I conceive it is not fit to press it upon those who have yet reluctance in digesting so much as is resolved of, and is evidently true.  
The reason why I have mentioned these opinions of some particular divines; is, because I desire that your Lordship should see that the way wherein we walk, is not only a plain and a smooth one; but an easy one to be found out: which it would not appear unto you to be, if you should be obliged to what these men would impose. By my exceptions against which, as well as out of what I have formerly established; I conceive I may safely conclude, That all Catholics, do take Tra●●ition, for the last rule, into which the certainty of all particular articles of faith, is to be resolved.  
Now, were my task performed; & Tradition set in the throne of commanding Christian belief: Did not the Naturalist and the Socinian, with joint forces, endeavour to possess Reason, of that chair: alleging, how Reason is the nature of man; the sole power in him, that can give consent to any thing proposed unto him; And therefore, in spite of all I have said, must be Queen and commanderess both of his belief and of his actions. But when they object this to me, they do not consider, how I have been all this while labouring to do in effect that which they require. For, what hath all my discourse leveled at, but to show, that reason obligeth us to ground our belief upon Tradition? So that I profess Tradition hath no force to command belief, unless Reason tell us so much; and as it were deliver us up to Tradition. Reason telleth us, it is fit to believe a knowing teacher or director, in a matter wherein one's self is ignorant. She telleth us, that she herself hath not principles and means, without believing some teacher, to give us certain information of the state of our soul in the next world, and of the ways in this whereby Beatitude is to be obtained. She telleth us, that Tradition hath derived this knowledge from a Master who was well assured of it; and that she containeth within herself, a strength of infallibility, to reach us without mistake what she learned of him. And So; Reason concludeth, that we must barken to Tradition, and follow that rule. Else she renounceth us, and protesteth we go against her sentiments; that is, we do unreasonably. Will not this satisfy any man that professeth to follow the conduct of Reason? Yet I will say more: let either Naturalist, or Socinian, produce true Reason (that is, demonstration) against any thing that is attested by Tradition; and I will grant him, we ought to leave Tradition and follow reason. But, if reason could do that, i●● would not assert and maintain the Infallibility of Tradition. It is not therefore true reason, but defective and topical essays, and flashes of wit, which these men produce, and upon which they rely: that is, upon a broken reed; whose splinters (as the Scripture telleth us) will gore them that lean upon it.  
Yet is it not my intention, by this discourse to persuade your Lordship that it is impossible, since the mysteries of Christian faith have been revealed, to reach by the help of faith unto the demonstration of revealed truths; so as, nature be first duly understood. I know, the words in which our faith is delivered, aught to be explicated by natural definitions. I am sure, that by the knowledge we have of God by natural sciences (as, that he is a spirit; that he is immutable; and the like) we come to know, that many words and expressions delivered of him in Scripture, are to be understood as spoken Metaphorically: And the like of angels, and all spiritual substances. I know that Man's freewill, is a natural thing; and that by Philosophy and Looking into ourselves, we may come to understand what it is; and that out of the right or wrong explication of it, great and noble truths may be discovered; and, as great and foul errors incurred. I know, that terms, once rightly understood, must of necessity have connexion among themselves; and that we do not lose our understanding, as soon as we apply it to faith; And therefore, may make legitimate consequences out of faith and natural principles joined together. I know, the doing of this, is expected from divines; is commended to them by S. Paul; the example of it is given them by the fathers; is professed by the Princes of our schoolmen; and, that consequently, there can not be a greater irrationality, then for a divine to say there can be no demonstration in divinity. Which were, in effect, to style himself a professor of divinity; and at the same time to profess there is no such science as divinity. For, whatsoever is delivered as divinity, and is neither demonstration, nor the way to it; is, not only idle garrulity; but profane and temerarious contamination of our holy Christian faith.  
But my Lord, I perceive my weak boat is sliding apace, before I am aware, into a sea too rough and too dangerous for me to steer a steady course in. It is time for me to take in my sails, and to let fall an anchor. I pretend not to learning: much less to be knowing in divinity. The various courses in the world that my several employments and fortunes have cast me upon, have not allowed me time nor means to store my mind as I would with knowledge and solid literature. If I have acquired any thin sprinkling in any of the parts of natural learning, I owe it to my misfortunes, and to the revolutions of my country causing them; that have condemned me to such a manner of living, as if I should not converse with books, and employ my time in some study, it would become burden some and in supportable to me. And then, since my study is chiefly for my entertainment; you may easily conceive that my application of it, hath been upon such subjects as I have been most willing to be informed of. To see whither the Immortality of the soul may be demonstrated by reason, or no, hath been a main one among them: And then, having found satisfaction therein; and by following of my principles, having discovered a new world in that region where she liveth, when the body is dead; and meeting there such amazing considerations of weal or woe, resulting out of the guidance of one's life and actions in this world, as would rouse the sleepiest person alive to be very solicitous what course he taketh here; I do not deny, but that it hath made me more inquisitive, then peradventure, I should otherwise have been, into what rule and guide may secure a man in his journey thither. For without such lively stirrers up, it is not unlikely but that I might have contented myself with walking dully and implicitly in the way that my birth and education had set me in. Thus, My lord, I have gleaned so much of Philosophy, and have cast an eye so far into divinity, as I have judged necessary for my own private use. In these few sheets, you have an essay of the little I know in either. If it may prove as useful to you, as I conceive it hath done to me; I were much too blame, if I did not impart it to you, unto whom I have long since given an equal share and power with myself, in all that is mine. For besides your excellent parts in all kinds, (as well the more gentle and the winning ones, as the strong ones) that make you highly esteemed and honoured by all those who know you; your particular kindness and friendship to me, requireth a particular return of affection from me. I can not express it better, then by confidently imparting to you, my privatest thoughts; which as they are the pleasing I ever had; so seem they to me, the usefullest. Such as they are, you have them here. You will not deny them a welcome, for his sake, who truly loveth you, and is,  
MY LORD, Your most affectionate kinsman and most humble and most obedient servant KENELME DIGBY    

THE APPROBATION OF the Doctors of divinity of the Faculty of Paris.  
THIS small, but learned treatise, entitled, A discourse concerning Infallibility in Religion; full of sublime & Christian truths, expressed even beyond the expectation of what human language could afford; doth clearly show how Grace is engrafted upon Nature, that is, how the divine & revealed tenets of our Catholic Church, are framed to heighten, as most connatural to, the light of reason; whereby to raise our souls to a more celestial strain of love & piety, than ever pure nature could have attained unto. To say, it contains nothing, in relation to faith not Catholic; In reference to manners, not Christian; were to discount from the work's desert●● It being an evident conviction o●● the ever inviolable & permanent subsistence of them both in the universally united Roman Church: Demonstrating withal, the false foundations of the Presbyterian consistory of the Socinian ratiocination, of the Independents priua●● Spirit, & of the erroneous, or rather no grounds or principles of the late particular English Protestant schismatical Synagogue. Let it then be set upon a candlestick by public print, & give light to all its readers; that its bright flames may loudly speak its author's unspeakable worth & learning. And ●●ee doctors of divinity of the Faculty of Paris, by signing here unto, need only say, it needed not our ●●approba●●ion. Paris the 28. Novemb. 1652.  
H. HOLDEN. E. TIREL.   

THE Printer entreateth those who shall take the pains to read this discourse, that they will be pleased (before they do so) to correct some errors, in the manner as is intimated hereafter. Others of less importance (as, the mistake sometimes of a letter in a word; or the putting two words so near together as if they were but one; or some failing in Orthography, or some misse-pointing) that will not perplex the sense, to any easy reflection; he submitteth to their courtesy to pardon. Which he doubteth not but they will be favoubly induced to do, when they shall consider that the composer and the corrector of the press for this piece, are Strangers to the tongue it is written in: and that they wrought not upon the original; but upon such a copy, as having descended by several transcriptions, and passed through sundry hands, fell in the end casually into mine: who durst not adventure to have recourse to the Author for his assistance herein, lest he should have hindered the publishing (as hitherto he hath done) of what is so much desired and sought after by all those who have heard of it.  
Page. 2. line. 4. palanteis. p. 9 l. 6. the. p. 10. l. 3. precipices. p. 20. l. 16. to have. p. 27. l. 10. it. p. 43. l. 17. repeated. p. 66. l. 17. which. l. 18. performed. p. 69. l. 1. on. p. 71. l. 4. with. l. 5. knowledge. p. 105. l. 3. ever. p. 145. l. 15. is. p. 147. l. 26. tortured. p. 164. l. 9 too. l. 22. leave to refer. p. 172. l. 5. and. p. 178. l. 8. God did give. p. 215. l. 12. writing.