A WORK For none but ANGELS & MEN. THAT IS, To be able to look into, and to know ourselves. OR A BOOK showing what the soul Is, Subsisting and having its operations without the Body; it's more than a perfection or reflection of the the Sense, or Temperature of Humours: How she exercises her powersof vegetative or quickening power of the Senses. Of the Imaginations or Common sense, the fantasy, Sensative Memory, Passions, Motion of Life, the Local Motion, and Intellectual Powers of the soul. Of the Wit, Understanding, Reason, Opinion, Judgement, Power of Will, and the Relations betwixt Wit & Wil. Of the intellectual Memory, that the soul is immortal, and cannot die, cannot be destroyed, her cause ceaseth not, violence nor time cannot destroy her; and all Objections Answered to the contrary. O thou my soul, which turn'st thy curious eye To view the beams of thine own form Divine: Know that thou canst know nothing perfectly, Whilst thou art clouded with this flesh of mine. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, it is high, I cannot attain unto it, Psal. 139. 6. LONDON: Printed by M. S. for Tho: Jenner, at the South-Entrance of the royal EXCHANGE. 1653. Of the soul of Man, and the Immortality thereof. THe lights of Heaven (which are the world's fair eyes) Look down into the world, the world to see: And as they run or wander in the skies, Survey all things that on this centre be. And yet the lights which in my tower do shine, Mine Eyes, which all objects both nigh and far, Look not into this little world of mine, Nor see my face, wherein they fixed are. Since Nature fails us in no needful thing, Why want I means mine in ward self to see? Which sight the knowledge of myself might bring, Which to true wisdom is the first degree. That power which gave me eyes the world to view, To view myself infused an inward light, Whereby my soul as by a mirror true, Of her own form may take a perfect sight. But as the sharpest eye discerneth nought, Except the sunbeams in the air do shine: So the best Sense with her reflecting thought, Seeks not herself without some light Divine. O Light which mak'st the Light, which makes the Day, Which setest the Eye without, and Mind within, Lighten my spirit with one clear heavenly ray, Which now to view itself doth first begin. For her true form how can my Spark discern? Which dim by Nature, Art did never clear; When the great Wits, of whom all skill we learn, Are ignorant both what she is, and where? One thinks the soul is air, another Fire, Another Blood diffused about the heart; Another s●●th, the Elements conspire, And to her Essence each doth give a part. Musi●ians think our Souls are Harmonies; Physicians hold that they Complexions be; Epicures make them swarms of atoms, Which do by chance into our Bodies flee. Some think one general soul fills every brain, As the bright Sun sheds light in every star: And others think the name of soul is vain, And that we only well-mixed bodies are. In judgement of her substance thus they vary; And thus they vary in judgement of her seat: For some her chair up to the brain do carry, Some thrust it down into the stomachs heat. Some place it in the Root of life, the Heart, Some in the Liver, fountain of the veins; Some say, she is all in all, and all in part: Some say, she's not contained, but all contains. Thus these great Clerks their little wisdom show, While with their Doctrines they at Hazard play, Tossing their light opinions to and fro, To mock the Lewd, as learned in this as they. For no crazed brain could ever yet propound, Touching the soul so vain and fond a thought, But some among these Masters have been found, Which in their Schools the selfsame thing have taut. God only Wise, to punish pride of Wit, Among men's Wits hath this confusion wrought, As the proud tower whose points the Clouds did hit, By tongue's Confusion was to ruin brought. Understanding. I once was AEgle ey'ed full of all light. Am owl eyed now as dim as derke●s night As through a glass or Cloud I all things view. Shall on day see them in there proper hue But (thou) which didst man soul of nothing make, And when to nothing it was fallen again, To make it new, the form of Man didst take, And God with God becamest a Man with Men. Thou, that hast fashioned twice this soul of ours, So that she is by double title thine, Thou only knowest her nature and her powers, Her subcile form thou only canst define. To judge herself she must herself transcend, As greater Circles comprehend the less, But she wants power her own power to extend, As fettered men cannot their strength express. But thou bright morning star, thou rising Sun, Which in these later times hast brought to light Those Mysteries, that since the world begun, Lay hid in darkness, and in eternal night. Thou (like the Sun) dost with indifferent ray, Into the palace and the Cottage shine, And showest the soul, both to the Clerk and Lay, By the clear Lamp of thy Oracle Divine. This Lamp through all the Regions of my brain, Where my Soul sits, doth spread her beams of grace, As now, methinks, I do distinguish plain, Each subtle line of her immortal face. The soul a Substance and a Spirit is, Which God himself doth in the Body make, What the soul is. Which makes the man, for every man from this, The Nature of a Man, and name doth take. And though the Spirit be to the Body knit, As an apt mean her powers to exercise, Which are Life, Motion, Sense, and Will and Wit, Yet she survives, although the Body dies. She is a substance, and a real thing, That the soul is a thing subsisting by itself without the body. Which hath itself an actual working might, Which neither from the Senses power doth spring, Nor from the Bodies humours tempered right. She is a Vine, which doth no propping need, To make her spread herself, or spring upright; She is a star whose beams do not proceed From any Sun, but from a Native light. For when she sorts things present with things past, That the soul hath a proper Operation without the body. And thereby things to come doth oft foresee; When she doth doubt at first, and choose at last, These acts her own without the Body be. When of the dew which th'Eye and ear doth take From flowers abroad, and bring into the brain, She doth within both wax and honey make; This work is hers, this is her proper pain. When she from sundry Acts one skill doth draw, Gathering from diverse Fights one act of war, From many Cases like, one Rule of Law; These her Collections, not the Senses are. When in th'effects she doth the Causes know, And seeing the stream, thinks where the spring doth rise, And seeing the branch, conceiv'th the root below; These things she views without the Bodies eyes. When she without a Pegasus doth fly, Swifter than lightning's fire to East to West, About the centre and about the sky, She travels then, although the Body rest. When all her works she formeth first within, Proportions them, and sees their perfect end, Ere she in act doth any part begin: What instruments doth then the Body lend? When without hands she thus doth Castles build, Sees without eyes, and without feet doth run, When she digests the World, yet is not filled, By her own power these miracles are done. When she defines, argues, divides, compounds, Considers virtue, vice, and general things, And marrying divers principles and grounds, Out of their match a true Conclusion brings. These Actions in her Closet all alone, (Retired within herself) she doth fulfil; Use of her Bodies Organs she hath none, When she doth use the powers of Wit and Will. Yet in the body's prison so she lies, As through the Bodies windows she must look, Her diverse powers of Sense to exercise, By gathering Notes out of the world's great Book. Nor can herself discourse, or judge of aught, But what the sense Collects, and home doth bring; And yet the power of her discoursing thought, From these Collections, is a diverse thing. For though our eyes can nought but Colours see, Yet Colours give them not their power of sight: So, though these fruits of Sense her objects be, Yet she discerns them by her proper light. The workman on his stuff his skill doth show, And yet the stuff gives not the man his skill; States their affairs do by their servants know, But order them by their own royal will. So though this cunning Mistress and this Queen, Doth as her instruments the Senses use, To know all things that are felt, heard, or seen, Yet she herself doth only judge and choose. Right so the soul, which is a Lady free, And doth the justice of her State maintain, Because the Senses ready servants be, Attending nigh about her Court, the brain. By them the forms of outward things she learns, (For they return into the fantasy) Whatever each of them abroad discerns, And there enrol it for the mind to see. But when she fits to judge the good and ill, And to discern betwixt the false and true, She is not guided by the Senses skill, But doth each thing in her own Mirror view. Then she the Senses checks, which oft do err, And even against their false reports decrees: And oft she doth condemn what they prefer, For with a power above the Sense, she sees: Therefore no Sense the precious joys conceives, Which in her private Contemplations be; For than the ravished spirit the Senses leaves, Hath her own powers, and proper actions free. Her harmonies are sweet, and full of skill, When on the body's instrument she plays: But the proportions of the wit and will, Those sweet accords, are even the Angels lays. Doubtless in man there is a nature found, Beside the Senses, and above them far; " Though most men being in sensual pleasures drowned, " It seems their souls but in the Senses are. If we had nought but Sense, then only they Should have found minds, which have their Senses sound; But wisdom grows, when Senses do decay, And folly most in quickest Sense is found. If we had nought but Sense, each living wight, Which we call brute, would be more sharp than we; As having Senses apprehensive might, In a more clear, and excellent degree. But they do want that quick discoursing power, Which doth in us the erring Sense correct; Therefore the Bee did suck the painted flower, And birds of Grapes the cunning shadow pecked. Sense outside knows, the soul through all things feet, Sense Circumstance, she doth the substance view; Sense sees the bark, but she the life of Trees; Sense hears the sounds, but she the concord's true. But why do I the soul and Sense divide? When Sense is but a power, which she extends, Which being in diverse parts diversified, The diverse forms of objects apprehends? This power spreads outward, but the root doth grow In th'inward soul, which only doth perceive; For th'eyes and ears no more their objects know, Than glasses know what faces they receive. For if we chance to fix our thoughts elsewhere, Although our eyes be open, we do not see, And if one power did not both see and hear, Our fights and sounds would always double be. Then is the soul a nature, which contains, The power of Sense, within a greater power; Which doth employ, and use the Senses pains, That the soul is more than the temperatures of the humours of the body. But sits and rules within her private bower. If she doth then the subtle Sense excel, How gross are they that drown her in the blood? Or in the body's humours tempered well, As if in them such high perfection stood? As if most skill in that Mositian were, Which had the best, and best ruined instrument; As if the pencil neat, and Colours clear, Had power to make the Painter excellent. Why doth not Beauty then refine the wit? And good complexion rectify the will? Why doth not Health bring wisdom still with it? Why doth not sickness make men brutish still? Who can in Memory, or Wit, or Will, Or air, or fire, or earth, or water find; What alchemist can d●aw with all his skill, The Quintessence of these out of the mind? If th'Elements which have nor life, nor sense, Can breed in us so great a power as this, Why give they not themselves like excellence, Or other things wherein their mixture is? If she were but the body's quality, Then would she be, with it sick, maimed, and blind; But we perceive, where these privations be, A healthy perfect, and sharp-sighted mind. If she were but the body's accident, And her sole being did in it subsist, As white in snow, she might herself absent, And in the body's substance not be missed. But it on her, not she on it depends; For ●ne the body doth sustain and cherish, Such secret powers of life to it she lends, That when they fail, than doth the body perish. Since then the soul works by herself alone, Springs not from sense, nor humours well agreeing, Her nature is peculiar, and her own, She is a substance, and a perfect being. But though this substance be the root of Sense, Sense knows her not, which doth but bodies know, That the soul is a Spirit. She is a spirit, and heavenly influence, Which from the fountain of God's spirit doth flow. She is a spirit, yet not like air or wind, Nor like the spirits about the heart or brain, Nor like those spirits which alchemists do find, When they in every thing seek gold in vain. For she all natures under heaven doth pass, Being like those spirits, which God's bright face do see, Or like himself, whose image once she was, Though now (alas) she scarce his shadow be. Yet of the forms she holds the first degree, That are to gross material bodies knit; Yet she herself is bodiless and free, And though confined, is almost infinite. Were she a body, how could she remain That it cannot be a Body. Within this Body, which is less than she? Or how could she the world's great shape contain, And in our narrow breasts contained be? All Bodies are confined within some place; But she all place within herself confines; All Bodies have their measure and their space, But who can draw the souls dimensive lines? nobody can at once two forms admit, Except the one the other do deface; But in the soul ten thousand forms do sit, And none intrudes into her neighbour's place. All Bodies are with other Bodies filled; But she receives both heaven and earth together, Nor are their forms by rash encounter spilt, For there they stand, and neither toncheth either. Memory. A common June all comers to retain. A Siue where good run out & bad remain. A Burrow with a thousand vermin hides. A Denne where nothing that is good abides Nor can her wide Embracements filled be; For they'that most, and greatest things embrace, Enlarge thereby their mind's capacity, As streams enlarged, enlarge the Channels space. All things received do such proportion take, As those things have wherein they are received: So little glasses little faces make, And narrow webs on narrow frames be weaved; Then what vast Body must we make the mind? Wherein are men, beasts, trees, towns, seas, and lands, And yet each thing a proper place doth find, And each thing in the true proportion stands? Doubtless this could not be, but that she turns Bodies to spirits by sublimation strange; As fire converts to fire the things it burns, As we our meats into our nature change. From their gross matter she abstracts the forms, And draws a kind of Quintessence from things, Which to her proper nature she transform, To bear them light on her celestial wings. This doth she when, from things particular, She doth abstract the universal kinds, Which bodiless, and immaterial are, And can be lodged but only in our minds. And thus from diverse accidents and acts, Which do within her observation fall, She goddestes, and powers divine abstracts, As nature, fortune, and the virtues all. Again, how can she several Bodies know, If in herself a body's form she bear? How can a Mirror sundry faces show, If from all shapes and forms it be not clear? Nor could we by our eyes all colours learn, Except our eyes were of all colours void; Nor sundry tastes can any tongue discern, Which is with gross, and bitter humours cloyed. Nor may a man of passions judge aright, Except his mind be from all passions free; Nor can a Judge his office well acquit, If he possessed of either party be. If lastly this quick power a Body were, Were it as swift as is the wind, or fire, (Whose atoms do th'one down sideways bear, And make the other in Pyramids aspire. Her nimble Body yet in time must move, And not in instants through all places slide; But she is nigh, and far, beneath, above, In point of time, which thought can not divide. She's sent as soon to China, as to Spain, And thence returns, as soon as she is sent; She measures with one time, and with one pain, An ell of Silk, and heavens wide-spreading Tent. As than the soul a substance hath alone, Besides the Body, in which she is confined: So hath she not a Body of her own, But is a spirit, and immaterial mind. Since Body and soul have such diversities, That the soul is created immediately by God, Zech. 12.1. Well might we muse, how first their match began; But that we learn, that he that spread the skies, And fixed the earth, first formed the soul in man. 'Tis true Prometheus first made man of earth, And shed in him a beam of heavenly fire; Now in their mother's wombs before their birth, Doth in all sons of men their Souls inspire. And as Minerva is in Fables said, From Jove without a mother to proceed, So our true Jove without a mother's aid, Doth daily millions of Minerva's breed. Then neither from eternity before, erroneous opinions of the creation of souls. Nor from the time, when times first point begun, Made he all Souls, which now he keeps in store, Some in the Moon, and others in the Sun. Nor in a secret Cloister doth he keep These virgin spirits, until their marriage-day, Nor locks them up in Chambers where they sleep, Till they awake, within these beds of Clay. Nor did he first a certain number make, Infusing part in beasts, and part in men, And as unwilling farther pains to take, Would make no more, than those he framed then. So that the widow soul, her Body dying, Unto the next born Body married was, And so by often changing and supplying, Men's souls to beasts, and beasts to men did pass. These thoughts are fond: for since the Bodies borne Be more in number far, than those that die, Thousands must be abortive, and forlorn, Ere others deaths to them their souls supply.) But as God's handmaid nature doth create Bodies, in time distinct, and order due: So God gives souls the like successive date, Which himself makes, in bodies formed new. Which himself makes, of no material thing, For unto Angels he no power hath given, Either to form the shape, or stuff to bring, From air, or fire, or substance of the Heaven. Nor he in this doth nature's service use, For though from Bodies she can Bodies bring, That the soul is not traduced from the parents. Yet could she never souls from souls traduce, As fire from fire, or light from light doth spring. But many subtle wits have justified, That Souls from Souls spiritually may spring, Which (if the nature of the Soul be tried) Will even in nature prove as gross a thing. For all things made, are either made of nought, Or made of stuff that ready made doth stand; Reasons drawn from nature. Of nought no creature ever formed aught, For that is proper to th'almighty's hand. If then the soul another soul do make, Because her power is kept within a bound, She must some former stufle or matter take, But in the soul there is no matter found. Then if her heavenly form do not agree With any matter, which the world contains, Than she of nothing must created be, And to create, to God alone pertains. Again, if souls do other souls beget, 'Tis by themselves, or by the body's power, If by themselves, what doth their working let, But they might souls engender every hour? If by the Body, how can wit and will Join with the Body only in this act? Since when they do their other works fulfil, They from the Body do themselves abstract? Again, if souls of souls begotten were, Into each other they should change and move; And change and motion still corruption bear; How shall we then the soul immortal prove? If lastly souls did generation use. Then should they spread incorruptible seed; What then becomes of that which they do loose When th'acts of generation do not speed? And though the soul could cast spiritual seed; Yet would she not, because she never dies; For mortal things desire their like to breed, That so they may their kind immortalize. Therefore the Angels, sons of God are named, And marry not, nor are in marriage given, Their spirits and ours are of one substance framed, And have one Father even the Lord of Heaven. Who would at first, that in each other thing, The earth, and water living souls should breed; But that man's soul, whom he would make their king, Should from himself immediately proceed. And when he took the woman from man's side, Doubtless himself in spired her soul alone; For 'tis not said, he did man's Soul divide, But took flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone. Lastly, God, being made Man for man's own sake, And being like Man in all, except in sin, His Body from the virgin's womb did take, But all agree, God fromed his soul within, Then is the soul from God; so Pagans say, Which saw by nature's light, her heavenly kind, Naming her kin to God, and God's bright ray, A Citizen of heaven, to earth consigned. And then the soul, being first from nothing brought, When God's grace fails her, doth to nothing fall, And this declining proneness unto nought, Is even that sin that we are born withal, Yet not alone the first good qualities, Which in the first soul were, deprived are, But in their place the contrary do rise, And real spots of sin her beauty mar. Nor is it strange, that Adam's ill desert, Should be transfered unto his guilty race, When Christ his grace and justice doth impart To men unjust, and such as have no grace. Lastly, the soul were better so to be Borne slave to sin, than not to be at all, Since (if she do believe) one sets her free, That makes her mount the higher from her fall. Yet this the curious wits will not content, They yet will know (since God foresaw this ill) Why his high providence did not prevent The declination of the first man's will. If by his word he had the current stayed, Of Adam's will, which was by nature free, It had been one, as if his word had said, I will henceforth that man no man shall be. For what is man without a moving mind, Which hath a judging wit, and choosing will? Now, if God's power should her election bind, Her motions then would cease, and stand all still. And why did God in man this soul infuse, But that he should his maker know and love? Now if love be compelled, and cannot choose, How can it grateful, or thankworthy prove? Love must free-hearted be, and voluntary, And not enchanted, or by fate constrained; Not like that love which did Ulysses carry To Circe's Isle, with mighty charms enchained, Besides, were we unchangeable in will, And of a wit that nothing doth misdeem, Equal to God, whose wisdom shineth still, And never errs, we might ourselves esteem. So that if man would be unvariable, He must be God, or like a Rock, or Tree; For even the perfect Angels were not stable, But had a fall, more desperate than we. Then let us praise that Power, which makes us be Men as we are, and rest contented so; And knowing man's fall was curiosity Admire God's counsels, which we cannot know. And let us know that God the marker is, Of all the souls, in all the men that be, Yet their Corruption is no fault of his, But the first man's, that broke God's first decree. This substance and this spirit ofGods own making, Is in the Body placed, and planted here, Why the soul is united to the body That both of God, and of the world partaking, Of all that is, man might the image bear. God first made Angels bodiless pure minds, Than other things, which mindless Bodies be; Last he made man th'Horizon 'twixt both kinds, In whom we do the world's abridgement see. Besides, this world below did need one wight, Which might thereof distinguish every part, Make use thertof, and take therein delight, And order things with industry, and Art. Which also God might in his works admire, And here beneath, yield him both prayer and praise, As there, above, the holy angel's choir Doth spread his glory, with spiritual lays. When Hearing, Seeing, Tasting, Smelling's past: Feeling (as long as life remains) doth last. Maid reach my Lute, I am not well indeed: O pitty-mee, my Bird hath made me bleed. Lastly, the bruit unreasonable wights, Did want a visible King on them to reign; And God himself thus to the world unites, That so the world might endless bliss obtain. But how shall we this union well express? In what manner the soul is united to the Body. Nought ties the soul, her subtlety is such; She moves the Body, which she doth possess, Yet no part toucheth but by virtue's touch. Then dwells she not therein as in a tent, Nor as a Pilot in his ship doth sit; Nor as a Spider in her web is penned, Nor as the wax retains the print in it. Nor as a vessel water doth contain, Nor as one liquour in another shed; Nor as the heat doth in the fire remain, Nor as a voice throughout the air is spread. But as a fair, and cheerful morning light, Doth here and there her silver beams impart, And in an instant doth herself unite To the transparent air, in all and part. Still resting whole, when blows the air divide; Abiding pure, when th'air is most corrupted, Throughout the air her beams dispersing wide, And, when the air is tossed, not interrupted. So doth the piercing soul the Body fill, Being all in all, and all in part diffused Indivisible, uncorrnptible still, Not forced, encountered, troubled, or confused. And as the Sun above, the light doth bring, Though we behold it in the air below: So from th'eternal light the soul doth spring, Though in the Body she her powers do show. But as the world's Sun doth effects beget, Diverse, in diverse places every day, How the soul doth exercise her powers in the Body. Here autumn's temperature, there summer's heat, Here flowery springtide, and there Winter-gray. Here even, there morn, here noon, there day, there night, Melts wax, dries clay, makes flours, some quick, some dead, Makes the More black, & th'Ethiopian white Th'American tawny, and th'East Indian red; So in our little world this soul of ours, Being only one, and to one Body tied, Doth use on diverse objects diverse powers, And so are her effects diversified. Her quickening power in every living part, Doth as a Nurse, or as a Mother serve, The vegetative or quickening power. And doth employ her oeconomick Art, And busy care, her household to preserve. Here she attracts, and there she doth retain, There she decocts, and doth the food prepare, There she distributes it to every vain, There she expels what she may fitly spare. This power to Martha may compared be, Which busy was, the household things to do; Or to a Dryas living in a Tree, For even to Trees this power is proper too. And though the soul may not this power extend Out of the Body, but still use it there, She hath a power, which she abroad doth send, Which views and searcheth all things everywhere. This power is Sense, which from abroad doth bring The colour, taste, and touch, and sent, and found, The power of Sense. The quantity, and shape of every thing, Within th'earth's centre, or heavens Circle found. This power in parts made fit, fit objects takes, Yet not the things, but forms of things receives; As when a seal in Wax impression makes, The print therein, but not itself, it leaves. And though things sensible be numberless, But only five the Senses Organs be; And in those five All things their forms express, Which we can Touch, taste, feel, or Hear, or See. These are the windows through the which she views The light of knowledge which is life's lodestar; " And yet while she these spectacles doth use, Oft worldly things seen greater than they are. First the two Eyes, which have the Seeing power, Stand as one Watchman, spy, or sentinel, Sight. Being placed Aloft within the Heads high Tower; And though both see, yet both but one thing tell. These Mirrors take into their little space The forms of Moon and Sun, and every Star, Of everybody, and of every place, Which with the world's wide arms embraced are Yet their best object, and their noblest use, Hereafter in another world will be, When God in them shall heavenly light infuse, That face to face they may their Maker see. Here are they guides, which do the body lead, Which else would stumble in eternal night; Here in this world they do much knowledge read, And are the Casements which admit most light. They are her farthest reaching instrument, Yet they no beams unto their objects send, But all the rays are from their objects sent, And in the Eyes with pointed Angels end. Where fantasy, near handmaid to the mind, Sits, and beholds, and doth discern them all, The fantasy. Compounds in one, things diverse in their kind, Compares the black and white, the great and small. Besides those single forms, she doth esteem, And in her balance doth their values try, Where some things good, and some things ill do seem, And neutral some in her fantastic eye. This busy power is working day and night; For when the outward Senses rest do take, A thousand dreams fantastical and light, With fluttering wings do keep her still awake. Yet always all may not afore her be, Successively she this, and that intends; The sensative Memory. Therefore such forms as she doth cease to see, To Memories large volume she commends. This leaguer Book lies in the brain behind, Like Janus' eye, which in his pole was set; The layman's Tables, Storehouse of the mind, Which doth remember much, and much forget. Here Senses Apprehension end doth take, As when a stone is into water cast, One Circle doth another Circle make, Till the last Circle touch the bank at last. But though the apprehensive power do pause, The Motive virtue than begins to move, The passions of Sense. Which in the heart below doth passions cause, Joy, grief, and fear, and hope, and hate, and love. These passions have a free commanding might, And diverse Actions in our life do breed; For all acts done without true reasons light, Do from the passion of the Sense proceed. But sith the brain doth lodge these powers of Sense, How makes it in the heart those passions spring? The mutual love, the kind intelligence twixt heart and brain, this sympathy doth bring. From the kind heat, which in the heart doth reign, The spirits of life do their beginning take; These spirits of life ascending to the brain, When they come there, the Spirits of Sense do make, These spirits of Sense in fantasies high Court, Judge of the forms of Objects ill or well; And so they send a good or ill report, Down to the heart, where all Affections dwell. If the report be good, it causeth love, And longing hope, and well assured joy: If it be ill, then doth it hatred move, And trembling fear, and vexing grief, annoy. Yet were these natural affections good; (For they which want them blocks or devils be) If reason in her first perfection stood, That she might nature's passions rectify. Besides, another Motive power doth rise Out of the heart: from whose pure blood do spring The vital Spirits, which borne in Arteries, The motion of life. Continual motion to all parts do bring. This makes the pulses beat, and lungs respire, This holds the sinews like a bridles rains, The local motion. And makes the body to advance, retire, To turn, or stop, as she them slacks, or straincs. Thus the soul tunes the body's instrument; These harmonies she makes with life and sense, The Organs fit are by the Body lent, But th' actions flow from the souls influence But now I have a Will, yet want a Wit, The intellectual powers of the soul. To express the working of the Wit and Will, Which though their root be to the body knit, Use not the body when they use their skill. These powers the nature of the soul declare, For to man's soul these only proper be; For on the earth no other wights there are, Which have these heavenly powers, but only we. The wit, the pupil of the souls clear eye, The Wit, or understanding. And in man's world the only shining star; Looks in the mirror of the fantasy, Where all the gatherings of the Senses are. From thence this power the shapes of things absteacts, And them within her passive part receives; Which are enlightened by that part which acts, And so the forms of single things perceives. But after by discoursing to and fro, Anticipating, and comparing things; She doth all universal natures know, And all effects into their causes brings. When she rates things, & moves from ground to ground Reason The name of Reason she obtains by this: But when by Reasons she the truth hath found, Understanding. And standeth sixt, she Understanding is. When her assent she lightly doth enclins To either part, she is opinion light: Opinion. But when she doth by principles define A certain truth, she hath true Judgements sight. Judgement. And as from Senses Reasons work doth spring, So many reason's understanding gain, And many understandings knowledge bring, And by much knowledge, wisdom we obtain. So many stairs we must ascend upright, Ere we attain to wisdom's high degree; So coth this earth eclipse our reason's light, Which else (in instants) would like Angels see. Yet hath the soul a dowry natural, And sparks of light some common things to see; Not being a blank, where nought is writ at all, But what the writer will may written be. For nature in men's heart her laws doth pen, Prescribing truth to wit, and good to will; Which do accuse, or else excuse all men, For every thought, or practise, good, or ill. And yet these sparks grow almost infinite, Making the world, and all therein their food; As fire so spreads as no place holdeth it, Being nourished still, with new supplies of wood. And though these sparks were almost quenched with sin, Yet they whom that just one hath justified, Note, Have them increased, with heavenly light within, And like the widow's oil still multiplied. And as this wit should goodness truly know, The Power or Will. We have a wit which that true good should choose: Though will do oft (when wit false forms doth show) Take ill for good, and good for ill refuse. Will puts in practice what the wit deviseth; The relations betwixt Wit and Will. Will ever acts, and wit contemplates still, And as from wit the power of wisdom riseth, All other virtue's daughters are of will. Will is the Prince, and wit the counsellor, Which doth for common good in council fit, And when wit is resolved, will lends her power, To execute what is advisd by wit. WILL. Free to all ill. till freed to none but ill, Now this I will anon the same I ●ill Appetite ere while, ere while Reason may, Ne'er good but when God's spirit bears ●●●ay Wit is the minds chief Judge, which doth Comptroul Of fancy's Court the judgements false and vain; Will holds the royal sceptre in the soul, And on the passions of the heart doth reign. Will is as Free as any Emperor; Nought can restrain her gentle liberty, No Tyrant, nor no Torment hath the power, To make us will, when we unwilling be. To these high powers a storehouse doth pertain, The Intellectual Memory Where they all Arts and general Reasons lay, Which in the soul, even after death remain, And no Lethoean flood can wash away. This is the soul, and those her virtues be, Which though they have their sundry proper ends, And one exceeds another in degree, Yet each on other mutually depends. Our Wit is given, Almighty God to know, Our Will is given to love him being known; But God could not be known to us below, But by his works, which through the sense are shown. And as the Wit doth reap the fruits of Sense, So doth the quickening power the Senses feed; Thus while they do their sundry gifts dispense, The best the service of the least doth need. Even so the King his Magistrates do serve; Yet Commons feed both Magistrate and King; The Commons peace the Magistrates preserve, By borrowed power, which from the Pr. doth spring. The quickening power would be, and so would rest, The Sense would not be only, but be well; But wit's ambition longeth to be best, For it desires in endless bliss to dwell. And these three powers three sorts of men do make; For some like plants their veins do only fill; And some like beasts, their senses pleasure take; And some like Angels do contemplate still. Therefore the Fables turned some men to Flowers, And others did with brutish forms invest, And did of others make celestial powers, Like Angels, which still travel, yet still rest. Yet these three powers are not three souls, but one; As one and two are both contained in three, Three being one number by itself alone; A shadow of the blessed trinity. O what is man (greater maker of mankind) An Acclamation. That thou to him so great respect dost bear? That thou adorn'st him with so bright a mind, Mak'st him a King, and even an angel's peer? O what a lively life, what heavenly power, What spreading virtue, what a sparkling fire, How great, how plentiful, how rich a dowry, Dost thou within this dying flesh inspire! Thou leavest thy print in other works of thine, But thy whole image thou in man hast writ; There cannot be a creature more divine, Except (like thee) it should be infinite. But it exceeds man's thought, to think how high God hath raised man, since God a man became; The Angels do admire this mystery, And are astonished when they view the same. Nor hath he given these blessings for a day, That the soul is immortal & cannot die. Nor made them on the body's life depend; The soul, though made in time, survives for aye, And though it hath beginning, sees no end. Her only end, is never ending bliss; Which is, th'eternal face of God to see; Who last of ends, and first of causes is, And to do this, she must eternal be. How senseless then and dead a soul hath he, Which thinks his soul doth with his body die? Or thinks not so, but so would have it be, That he might sin with more security? For though these light and vicious persons say, Our soul is but a smoke, or airy blast, Which during life doth in our nostrils play, And when we die, doth turn to wind at last. Although they say, come, let us eat and drink, Our life is but a spark, which quickly dies; Though thus they say, they know not what to think But in their minds ten thousand doubts arise. Therefore no heretics desire to spread Their light opinions, like these Epicures; For so their staggering thoughts are comforted, And other men's assent their doubt assures. Yet though these men against their conscience strive, There are some sparkles in their flinty breasts, Which cannot be extinct, but still revive, That though they would, they cannot quite be beasts. But who so makes a mirror of his mind, And doth with patience view himself therein, His souls eternity shall clearly find, Though th'other beauties be defaced with sin. First in man's mind we find an appetite 1 Reason. Drawn from the desire of Knowledge. To learn and know the truth of every thing, Which is connatural, and borne with it, And from the Essence of the soul doth spring. With this desire she hath a native might To find out every truth, if she had time Th'innumerable effects to sort aright, And by degrees from cause to cause to climb. But since our life so fast away doth slide, As doth a hungry Eagle through the wind, Or as a Ship transported with the tide, Which in their passage leave no print behind. Of which swift little time so much we spend, While some few things we through the sense do strain. That our short race of life is at an end, Ere we the principles of skill attain. Or God (which to vain ends hath nothing done) In vain this appetite and power hath given, Or else our knowledge which is here begun, Hereafter must be perfected in heaven. God never gave a power to one whole kind, But most part of that kind did use the same; Most eyes have perfect sight, though some be blind; Most legs can nimbly run, though some be lame. But in this life no soul the truth can know So perfectly, as it hath power to do; If then perfection be not found below, An higher place must make her mount thereto. Again, how can she but immortal be? When with the motions of both will and wit, 2 Reason. Drawn from the Motion of the soul. She still aspireth to eternity, And never rests, till she attain to it? Water in Conduit pipes can rise no higher Than the well-head from whence it first doth spring, Then since to eternal God she doth aspire, She cannot be but an eternal thing. " All moving things to other things do move " Of the same kind, which shows their nature such; So earth falls down, and fire doth mount above, Till both their proper Elements do touch. And as the moisture which the thirsty earth, The soul compared to a River. Sucks from the sea, to fill her empty veins, From out her womb at last doth take a birth, And runs a Nymph along the grassy plains. Long doth she stay, as loath to leave the land, From whose soft side she first did issue make; She tastes all places, turns to every hand, Her flowery banks unwilling to forsake. Yet nature so her streams doth lead and carry, As that her course doth make no final stay, Till she herself unto the Ocean marry, Within whose watery bosom first she lay. Even so the soul, which in this earthly mould The Spirit of God doth secretly infuse; Because at first she doth the earth benold, And only this material world she views. At first our mother earth she holdeth dear, And doth embrace the world and worldly things; She flies close by the ground, and hovers here, And mounts not up, with her celestial wings. Yet under heaven she cannot light on aught, That with her heavenly nature doth agree; She cannot rest, she cannot fix her thought, She cannot in this world contented be. For who did ever yet in honour, wealth, Or pleasure of the Sense contentment find? Who ●ver●ea●●d to wish, when he had health, Or having wisdom, was not vexed in mind? Then as a Bee which ammong weeds doth fall Which seem sweet flowers, with lustre fresh and gay, She lights on that, and this, and tasteth all, But pleased with none, doth rise, and sore away. So when the soul finds here no true content, And like Noah's Dove can no sure sooting take, She doth return from whence she first was sent, And flies to him that first her wings did make. Wit seeking truth from cause to cause ascends, And never rests, till it the first attain; Will, seeking good, finds many middle ends, But never stays, till it the last do gain. Now God the Truth and first of Causes is, God is the last good end, which lasteth still, Being Alpha and Omega named for this, Alpha to Wit, Omega to the will. Sith than her heavenly kind she doth bewray, In that to God she doth directly move, And on no mortal thing can make her stay, She cannot be from hence, but from above. And yet this first true cause, and last good end, She cannot hear so well, and truly see; For this perfection she must yet attend, Till to her maker she espoused be. As a King's daughter being in person sought Of diverse Princes, which do neighbour near, On none of them can fix a constant thought, Though she to all do lend a gentle ear. Yet can she love a foreign Emperor, Whom of great worth and power she hears to be, If she be wooed but by ambassador, Or but his Letters, or his picture see. For well she knows, that when she shall be brought Into the kingdom, where her Spouse doth reign. Her eyes shall see, what she conceived in thought, Himself, his state, his glory, and his train. So while the Virgin soul on earth doth stay, She wooed and tempted is ten thousand ways. By these great powers, which on the earth bear sway, The wisdom of the world, wealth, pleasure, praise. With these sometime she doth her time beguile, These do by fits her fantasy possess; But she distaits them all within a while, And in the sweetest finds a tediousness. But if upon the world's Almighty King, She once do fix her humble loving thought, Which by his picture drawn in every thing, And sacred messages her love hath sought. Of him she thinks she cannot think too much, This honey tasted still, is ever sweet, The pleasure of her ravished thought is such, At almost here, she with her bliss doth meet. But when in Heaven she shall his Essence see, This is her sovereign good, and perfect bliss, Her longings, wishings, hopes, all finished be, Her joys are full, her motions rest in this. There is she crowned with Garlands of Content, There doth she Manna eat, and Nectar drink; That presence doth such high delights present, As never tongue could speak, nor heart could think, For this the better souls do oft despise 4 Reason. From contempt of death in the better fort of 〈◊〉 The body's d●ath and do it oft desire: For when on ground the burdened balance lies, The empty part is listed up the higher. Fancy. Apelike I all things imitate. New projects fashions I invent. Dream-like I them vary-straite. All Shapes to head & heart present. But if the body's death the soul should kill, Then death must needs Against her nature be; And were it so, all souls would fly it still, For Nature hates and shuns her contrary. For all things else, which Nature makes to be, Their being to preserve are chiefly taught; For though some things desire a change to see, Yet never thing did long to turn to nought. If then by death the soul were quenched quite, She could not thus against her nature run; Since every senseless thing by nature's light, Doth preservation seek, destruction shun. Nor could the world's best spirits so much err, If death took all, that they should all agree, Before this life their honour to prefer; For what is praise to things that nothing be? Again, if by the body's prop she stand, If on the body's life, her life depend, As Meleager's on the fatal brand, The Bodies good she only would intend. We should not find her half so brave and bold, To lead it to the wars, and to the Seas; To make it suffer watchings, hunger, cold, When it might feed with plenty, rest with ease, Doubtless all souls have a surviving thought, Therefore of death we think with quiet mind, But if we think of being turned to nought, A trembling horror in our souls we find, And as the better spirit, when she doth bear 4 Reason. From the fear of death i'the wicked souls. A scorn of death, doth show she cannot die: So when the wicked soul deaths face doth fear, Even than she proves her own Eternity. For when deaths from appears, she feareth not An utter quenching, or extinguishment; She would be glad to meet with such a lot, That so she might all future ill prevent. But she doth doubt what after may befall; For nature's law accuseth her within, And saith, 'tis true that is affirmed by all, That after death there is a pain for sin, Than she which hath been hoodwinked from her birth Doth first herself within death's mirror see; And when her Body doth return to earth, She first takes care, how she alone shall be. Whoever sees these irreligious men, With burden of a sickness weak and faint; But hears them talking of Religion then, And vowing of their souls to every Saint? When was there ever cursed Atheist brought Unto the Gibbet, but he did adore, That blessed power, which he had set at nought, Scorned and blasphemed, all his life before? These light vain persons still are drunk and mad, With surfeitings, and pleasures of their youth; But at their deaths they are fresh, sober, sad, Then they discern, and then they speak the truth. If then all souls both good and bad do teach, With general voice that souls can never die; 'tis not man's flattering gloze, but nature's speech, Which like God's Oracle, can never lie. Hence springs that universal strong desire, 5 Reason. From the general desire of imortality. Which all men have of Immortality; Not some few spirits unto this thought aspire, But all men's minds in this united be. Then this desire of Nature is not vain, " She covets not impossibilities; " Fond thoughts may fall into some idle brain, " But one Assent of all, is ever wise. From hence that general care and study springs, That launching and progression of the mind, Which all men have so much of future things, As they no joy do in the present find. From this desire, that main desire proceeds, Which all men have, surviving fame to gain, By tombs, by Books, by memorable Deeds, For she that this desires, doth still remain. Hence lastly springs Care of Posterities, For things their kind would everlasting make; Hence is it, that old men do plant young Trees, The fruit whereof another age shall take. If we these Rules unto ourselves apply, And view them by reflection of the mind; All these true notes of immortality, In our Hearts Tables we shall written find. And though some impious wits do questions move, 6 Reason. From the very doubt and dispuration of immortality. And doubt if souls immortal be or no; That doubt their immortality doth prove, Because they seem immortal things to know. For he which Reasons on both parts doth bring, Doth some things mortal, some immortal call; Now if himself were but a mortal thing, He could not judge immortal things at all. For when we judge, our minds we mirrors make; And as those glasses which material be, Forms of material things do only take; For thoughts or minds in them we cannot see. So when we God and Angles do conceive, And think of truth, which is eternal to; Then do our minds immortal forms receive, Which if they mortal were, they could not do. And as if Beasts conceived what Reason were, And that conception should distinctly show, They should the name of reasonable bear; For without Reason none could Reason know. So when the soul mounts with so high a wing, As of eternal things she doubts can move; She proofs of her eternity doth bring, Even when she strives the contrary to prove. For even the thought of Immortality, Being an act done without the Bodies aid, Shows that herself alone could move, and be, Although the body in the grave were laid. And if herself she can so lively move, And never need a foreign help to take, Then must her motion everlasting prove, Because herself she never can forsake. But though corruption cannot touch the mind, That the soul cannot be destroyed. By any cause that from itself may spring; Some outward cause fate hath perhaps designed, Which to the soul may utter quenching bring. Perhaps her cause may cease, and she may die; God is her cause, his word her maker was, Which shall stand fixed for all eternity, Her cause ceaseth not. When heaven and earth shall like a shadow pass, Perhaps some thing repugnant to her kind, She hath no contrary. By strong Antipathy the soul may kill; But what can be contrary to the mind, Which holds all contraries in concord still? She lodgeth heat, and cold, and moist, and dry, And life, and death, and peace, and war together; Ten thousand fighting things in her do lie, Yet neither troubleth or disturbeth either. Perhaps for want of food the soul may pine; She can't die for want of food. But that were strange, since all things bad and good, Since all God's creatures mortal and divine, Since God himself is her eternal food. Bodies are fed with things of mortal kind, And so are subject to mortality; But truth, which is eternal, feeds the mind; The tree of life which will not let her die. Yet violence perhaps the Soul destroys; Violence cannot destroy her. As lightning or the sunbeams dim the sight; Or as a thunderclap or cannon's noise, The power of hearing doth astonish quite. But high perfection to the soul it brings, T'encounter things most excellent and high; For when she views the best and greatest things, They do not hurt, but rather clear her eye. But lastly, Time perhaps at last hath power Time cannot destroy her. To spend her lively powers, and quench her light; But old God Saturn which doth all devour, Doth cherish her, and still augment her might. Heaven waxeth old, and all the spheres above Shall one day faint, and their swift motion stay, And Time itself in time shall cease to move; Only the soul survives, and lives for aye. " Our Bodies every footstep that they make, " March towards death, until at last they die; Whether we work, or play, or sleep, or wake, " Our life doth pass, and with times wings doth fly. But to the soul Time doth perfection give, And adds fresh lustre to her beauty still; And makes her in eternal youth to live, Like her which Nectar to the God, doth full. The more she lives, the more she feeds on truth, The more she feeds, her strength doth more increase; And what is strength, but an effect of youth? Which if time nurse, how can it ever cease? But now these Epicures begin to smile, Objections against the immortality of the soul. And say, my doctrine is more safe than true, And that I fondly do myself beguile, While these received opinions I ensue. For what, say they, doth not the soul wax old? 1 Objection. How comes it then, that aged men do dote? And that their brains grow sottish, dull, and cold, Which were in youth the only spirits of note? What? are not souls within themselves corrupted? How can there Idiots then by Nature be? How is it that some wits are interrupted, That now they dazzled are, now clearly see? These Questions make a subtle Argument, Answer. To such as think both Sense and Reason one; To whom nor agent from the instrument, Nor power of working, from the work is known, For if that region of the tender brain, Wherein th'inward sense of fantasy should sit, And th'outward senses gatherings should retain, By nature, or by chance, become unfit. Either at first uncapable it is, And so few things or none at all receives, Or marred by accident, which haps amiss, And so amiss it every thing perceives. Then as a cunning Prince that useth Spies, If they return no news, doth nothing know; But if they make advertisement of lies; The Prince's Counsel all awry do go. Even so the soul to such a Body knit, Whose inward senses undisposed be, And to receive the forms of things unfit, Where nothing is brought in, can nothing see. But if a frenzy do possess the brain, It so disturbs and blots the forms of things, As fantasy proves altogether vain, And to the wit no true relation brings. Then doth the wit admitting all for true, Build fond conclusions on those idle grounds; Then doth it fly the good, and ill pursue, Believing all that this false spy propounds. But purge the humours, and the rage appease, Which this distemper in the fancy wrought, Then will the wit, which never had disease, Discourse, and judge discreetly as it ought. Then these defects in Senses Organs be, Not in the soul, or in her working might; She cannot lose her perfect power to see, Though mists, & clouds, do choke her window light, The soul in all hath one Intelligence; Though too much moisture in an infant's brain, And too much dryness in an old man's sense, Cannot the prints of outward things retain, Then doth the soul want work, and idle sit, And this we childishness, and dotage call; Yet hath she then a quick and active wit, If she had stuff and tools to work withal. As a good Harper stricken far in years, Into whose cunning hands the Gout doth fall; All his old Crotchets in his brain he bears, But on his Harp plays ill, or not at all. Then dotage is no weakness of the mind, But of the Sense: for if the mind did wast, In all old men we should this wasting find, When they some certain term of years had past. But most of them even to their dying hour, Retain a mind more lively, quick, and strong, And better use their understanding power, Then when their brains were warm, and limbs were young. Yet say these men, if all her Organs die, Then hath the soul no power her powers to use; 2 Objection. So in a sort her powers extinct do lie, When unto act she cannot them reduce. And if her powers be dead, than what is she? For since from every thing some powers do spring, And from those powers some acts proceeding be, Then kill both power, and act, and kill the thing. Doubtless the body's death, when once it dies, The instruments of sense and life doth kill; Answer. So that she cannot use those faculties, Although their root restin her substance still. But (as the body living) wit and will Can judge and choose, without the body's aid; Though on such objects they are working still, As through the body's Organs are conveyed. So when the body serves her turn no more, And all her Senses are extinct and gone, She can discourse of what she learned before, In heavenly contemplations all alone. And (though the Instruments by which we live, And view the world, the body's death to kill) Yet with the body they shall all revive, And all their wonted offices fulfil. But how till then shall she herself employ? 3 Objection. Her spies are dead, which brought home news before, What she hath got and keeps, she may enjoy, But she hath means to understand no more. Then what do those poor souls which nothing get? Or what do those which get and cannot keep? Like Buckets bottomless, which all out let; Those souls for want of exercise must sleep. See how man's soul against itself doth strive, Answer. Why should we not have other means to know? As children while within the womb they live Feed by the navel; here they feed not so. These children, if they had some use of sense, And should by chance their mother's talking hear, That in short time they shall come forth from thence, Would fear their birth, more than our death we fear. They would cry out, if we this place shall leave, Then shall we break our tender navel strings; How shall we then our nourishment receive, Since our sweet food no other conduit brings? And if a man should to these babes reply, That into this fair world they shall be brought, Where they shall see the earth, the sea, the sky; The glorious Sun, and all that God hath wrought. That there ten thousand dainties they shall meet, Which by their mouths they shall with pleasure take, Which shall be cordial too, as welll as sweet, And of their little limbs tall bodies make. This would they think a fable, even as we Do think the story of the golden age; Or as some sensual spirits amongst us be, Which hold the world to come, a feigned stage. Yet shall these infants after find all true, Though then thereof they nothing could conceive, Assoon as they are borne the world they view, And with their mouths the nurse's milk receive. So when the soul is borne (for death is nought, But the souls birth, and so we should it call) Ten thousand things she sees beyond her thought, And in an unknown manner knows them all. Then doth she see by Spectacles no more, She hears not by report of double spies; Herself in instants doth all things explore, For each thing present, and before her lies. But still this Crew with Questions me pursues: 4 Objection. If souls deceased (say they) still living be, Why do they not return, to bring us news Of that strange world, where they such wonders see? The soul hath here on earth no more to do, Answer. Than we have business in our mother's womb: What child doth covet to return thereto? Although all children first from thence do come? And doubtless such a soul as up doth mount, And doth appear before her maker's face, Holds this vile world in such a base account, As she looks down, and scorns this wretched place. But such as are detruded down to Hell, Either for shame they still themselves retire; Or tied in chains, they in close Prison dwell, And cannot come, although they much desire. Well well say these vain spirits, though vain it is 5 Objection. To think our souls to heaven or hell do go, Politic men have thought it not amiss, To spread this lie, to make men virtuous so. Do you then think this moral virtue good? Answer. I think you do, even for your private gain; For commonwealths by virtue ever stood, And common good the private doth contain. Oh how can that be false, which every tongue The general consent of all Of every mortal man, affirms for true? Which truth hath in all ages been so strong, As loadstone like all hearts it ever drew. For not the Christian, or the Jew alone, The Persian, or the Turk, acknowledge this, This mystery to the wild Indian known, And to the Cannibal and Tartar is. None that acknowledge God, or providence, Their souls eternity did ever doubt, For all Religion takes her root from hence, Which no poor naked Nation lives without. If death do quench us quite, we have great Wrong, Since for our service all things else were wrought, That Dawes, & Trees, and Rocks, should last so long, When we must in an instant pass to nought. But blessed be that great power, that hath us blessed, With longer life than heaven or earth can have; Which hath enfusd into one mortal breast Immortal powers, not subject to the grave. For though the soul do seem her grave to bear, And in this world is almost buried quick, We have no cause the body's death to fear, For when the shell is broke, ou● comes a Chick. For as the souls Essential powers are three, Three kinds of life answerable to the three powers of the soul. The quickening power, the power of Sense and Reason, Three kinds of life to her designed be, Which perfect these three powers in their due season. The fi●st life in the mother's womb is spent, Where she her nursing power doth only use; Where when she finds defects of nourishment, Sh'expels her body, and this world she views. This we call Birth, but if the Child could speak, He Death would call it, and of nature plain, Tha she would thrust him out naked and weak, And in h●s passage pinch him with such pain, Yet out he comes, and in this world is placed, Where all his Senses in perfection be, Where he finds flowers to smell, and truits to taste, And sounds to hear, and sundry forms to see. When he hath past some time upon this stage, His Reason then a little seems to wake; Which though she spring when sense doth fade with age, Yet can she here, no perfect practice make. Then doth th'aspiring soul the body leave, Which we call death, but were it known to all, What life our souls do by this death receive, Men would it Birth, or gaol-delivery call. In this third life Reason will be so bright, As that her spark will like the sunbeams shine, And shall of God enjoy the real sight, Being still increased by influence Divine. O ignorant poor man, wha● d●st thou bear, An Acclamation. Locked up within the Casket of thy breast? What Jewels, and what riches hast thou there? What heavenly treasure in so weak a chest? Look in thy soul, and thou shalt beauties find, Like those which drowned Narcissus in the flood, Honour and Pleasure, both are in thy mind, And all that in the world is counted good. There are a Crew of fellows of suppose, That angle for their victuals with their nose As quick as Beagles in the smelling sense To smell a feast in Pauses 2 miles from thence. Think of her worth, and think that God did mean This worthy mind should worthy things embrace; Blot not her beauties with thy thoughts unclean, Nor her dishonour with thy passions base. Kill not her quickening power with surfeitings, Mar not her sense with Sensuality, Cast not her serious wit on idle things, Make not her freewill slave to vanity. And when thou think'st of her eternity, Think not that death against her nature is, Think it a birth: and when thou goest to die, Sing like a Swan, as if thou wentest to bliss. And if thou like a Child didst fear before, Being in the dark, where thou didst nothing see; Now I have brought thee torchlight, fear no more, Now when thou diest, thou canst not hoodwinked be, Take heed of overweening, and compare Thy peacock's feet with thy gay peacock's train, Study the best, and highest things that are, But of thyself an humble thought retain. Cast down thyself, and only strive to raise The glory of thy maker's sacred name; Use all thy powers, that blessed power to praise, Which gives thee power to be, and use the same. FINIS.