Enthusiasmus Triumphatus, OR, A DISCOURSE OF The Nature, Causes, Kind's, and Cure, OF ENTHUSIASM; Written by Philophilus Parresiastes, and prefixed to ALAZONOMASTIX HIS Observations and Reply: Whereunto is added a Letter of his to a private Friend, wherein certain passages in his Reply are vindicated, and several matters relating to Enthusiasm more fully cleared. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 LONDON, Printed by I. Flesher, and are to be sold by W. Morden Bookseller in Cambridge, MDCLVI. Enthusiasmus Triumphatus, OR, A DISCOURSE OF The Nature, Causes, Kind's, and Cure, OF ENTHUSIASM; Written by Philophilus Parresiastes, and prefixed to ALAZONOMASTIX HIS Observations and Reply: Whereunto is added a Letter of his to a private Friend, wherein certain passages in his Reply are vindicated, and several matters relating to Enthusiasm more fully cleared. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 LONDON, Printed by I. Flesher, and are to be sold by W. Morden Bookseller in Cambridge, MDCLVI. To the Reader. Reader, THou mayst very well marvel what may be the meaning that I should publish the Writings of another, the Author being yet alive and at leisure to do it himself: But I can inform thee, though it perhaps may seem a Riddle to thee, that he is alive and not alive. For when I treated with him concerning this matter, I found him quite dead to all such kind of businesses. His Constitution is grown so unexpectedly and astonishingly grave or sour, I know not whether to call it, that there is now, as I told him, some small hopes that he may be brought off in time, to put on a pair of Satin ears, or wear a silk cap with as many seams as there be streaks in the back of a Lute, as himself expresses it, in the Preface to his Reply, Assuredly, said I, Mastix, thou hast an ambition of being one of those venerable Idols, or stalking pieces of Gravity, to whom little boys smack the top of their fingers so loudly, making long legs; and young girls and women drop so demure curtsies to as they pass by in the street. How strongly is my friend Mastix metamorphosed within this space of three or four years. But Parresiastes, said he, is I perceive, the same man still, as merry and unlucky as ever: and for myself I am not so much changed or sunk into thy present temper, but that I can with the same patience bear with thy frolicks, as I could with others sullenness in the days of my jollity. But I know by certain and approved experience, that there is nothing so safe and permanently pleasant, as a stayed mind and composed spirit; not easily loosened into profuse mirth. For such Jocantrie, while we are in these earthly Tabernacles, is but like the dancing of men and women in an unswept room, it does but raise a dust and offend the eyes even of the Revelers themselves, what ever it does to the Spectators. Wherefore what a vain thing were it in me, to ruffle the calm composure of my own Spirit, by perusing and republishing of that which proved so great an aggrievance to one, to whom I never did, nor yet do, bear the least enmity. I seeing Mastix so seriously set against Mirth, presently conjectured, for all his smooth speeches, that it might happily far with him after the usual manner of other mortals, who commonly do not wholly quit themselves of their passions, but change them; and therefore did not much mistrust, but that though I could not melt him into a merry temper, yet I might heat him into a fit of Indignation and natural sense of Revenge. And to this purpose I set before his eyes the high Insolences of Eugenius against the Universities, his unpardonable Incivilities to that Miracle of Ages the noble Des-Cartes, besides his outrageous Barbaritics upon Mastix his own self; where I exhibited to his view a whole Catalogue of those honourable Titles he so liberally bestows upon him throughout his writings, being so many and so uncouth, that they might stuff out a whole Dictionary with terms of scurrility. These I spread before him, like the blood of Mulberries before● Elephants in battle, to provoke his Irascible. But to my amazement he seemed to me not at all moved, but in a careless manner made this Answer, The grosser these Revilements are, the Greater Christianity not to be incensed. Besides, if either he or any others by his defamations think worse of me than I deserve, the injury is theirs, not mine; as when one conceives a true Proposition to be false, the Proposition, saith Epictetus, is not hurt, but he that is mistaken in it. When I saw these Engines leveled at his affections could make no breach upon him, at last I betook me to more subtle weapons. Well said I, Mastix, it should seem you are grown a man of strange Masterdom over your Passions, or at least you are willing to appear so for the present; but you have been as great a professor of Reason heretofore. I pray you let me ask you one question; whether do not you think your Observations and Reply very serviceable for that purpose you intended them, viz. for the discountenancing and quelling of vain Fantastry and Enthusiasm. Here he putting upon himself a ctosse and unexpected garb of Modesty, told me that it was unfit for him to speak any thing that may seem to tend to the commendation of his own Writings; but smilingly asked me what my opinion was thereof. I profess, said I, I cannot but think them very serviceable for that end, nor can imagine how that Fanatic spirit can be better met withal, then by slighting and deriding it, there being always so much Pride at the root from whence these Follies and Vanities bloom. For Fantastics and Enthusiasts seek nothing more than the admiration of men, wherefore there is no such sovereign Remedy as scorn and neglect, to make them sober. But anxiously to contend in a dry way of Reason with them that profess themselves above it, is indeed to condescend below a man's self, and use his sword there where he ought to have shown his whip, wh●ch was the mistake of the Scythians when they fought against their slaves; and therefore it being not so rational to prefer a private humour before a public good, you ought not to be so shy in the matter I propound. I know not what you mean said Mastix, Your late laudable intentions, said I, have been as well against Enthusiasm as Atheism, what pretence then have you that those two Pamphlets against Enthusiasm may not march in one body, I mean, be bound up in one Volume with the rest of your Treatises, for they would be then more in view, and consequently do more service. It may be so, said Mastix, if they would do any at all. But you do not in the mean time consider what disservice they may do to the rest of my Writings, which are so grave and serious, and how they may cause the Reader, through incogitancy, to think me in good earnest no where having once found me so much in jest. Now certainly, Mastix, said I, it is not Gravity but Melancholy that makes such a prudent fool of thee. Do not even the godliest and severest men that are, without either sin or scruple, laugh heartily at dinner and tell merry tales, though they begin and end their meal wi●h more than ordinary seriousness and devotion? Besides, the promiscuous jumbling of those divine Raptures, in your Reply, with your usual merriment there, seems in my judgement far more harsh than the joining both your Observations and it with the rest of your Discourses. This struck Mastix home, as I thought, who a little changing his countenance, after some pause returned this answer. The truth is, said he, that confusion of so great seriousness with so humoursome mirth, is the very worst thing in all that book. Which my spirits so ill relish now I am more cool, that I would gladly, if opportunity were offered, have my Reply distinguished into Sections with Arguments before every Section, that there may be a due time of Interspiration betwixt the ending of the serious and the entering into the merry passages, as well as there was in my writing of them. But this may be done, though these two Pamphlets be still kept apart from the rest in a lesser volume. That's true, said I, but you do not observe that you endeavour the declining of that which is unavoidable. For as sure as your Books will to the Press again after your death, these two, which you would keep out, will crowd in with the rest. Here Mastix began to scratch his head, and se●med utterly at a loss what to say. But at last recovering himself, what reason, said he, have I to take Philophilus for a Prophet, or admit of his Presage as probable, that my writings should be so much in ●equest hereafter, unless it be because they are in so little now, Writers having the same fate that Fashions, they all coming up by their turns and then going down again. But suppose your presage true, what then Philophilus? I● plainly then follows, said I, that you are to republish your two Pamphlets, & join them with the rest of your Writings, especially having opportunity thereby to cast your Reply into Sections, and make what corrections else you think fit in either of them. It does not at all follow, says he. It follows indeed, that it is fit the thing should be done, but it does not necessarily follow that I do ●t myself. Friend Mastix how captious are you, said I, My main drift was to demonstrate that the thing was fit to be done, not questioning but that that being proved, you would not stick to do it yourself. Well, said he, my friend Philophilus, it is acknowledged then on both sides, that it is fit and requisite to be done, but myself refusing of it, will any body else think you do it? Not any body, said I: Whether can you do it or no, said Mastix to me. Here I began to fumble, but I could not but confess that I could do it. The whole business, said Mastix, lies then betwixt you and me. As for my own part I am resolved I will not meddle with it, it being utterly against the present temper of spirit I am in. And a thing so fit to be done in your own judgement, which you can do if you will, and will not be done unless by you, must lie at your door as a neglected duty if you refuse it. I marry, said I, friend Mastix this is rare indeed, I perceive though you can forego your wont mirth, you have parted with little of your wit, that you can thus finely catch me in a noose of mine own making. Well, I will not be unwilling to think it my duty for this once, since it can be no otherwise. And I have Reader outdone his desire in the prosecuting thereof. For I have not only cast his Reply, but his Observations also into Sections, prefixing before each Section the Argument thereof, in which I might almost equalise my pains to his that first compiled the Books, at least I might the fruits of them; being well assured that they will prove ten times more plain and consequently more pleasant than they were before, especially if thou takest notice of what Instructions I shall impart to thee in reference to their perusal. Know therefore that in every Argument of the Sections of his Observations, there is exhibited to thee the Matter that Mastix speaks to in each Observation, & that so fully and faithfully, that if the Discourse he writes against lay open before thine eyes, it would not make him more intelligible. Now his Observations being so punctually numbered and fully understood, it will follow that his Reply will be as easy, the same numbering of the Observations being kept there also, so that if thou be'st not satisfied in the sense, it is but having recourse to the Observation, the number does direct thee to in the foregoing Pamphlet, and then all will be clear. The chief light therefore for understanding both, being the right framing of the Arguments of the Sections of his Observations, which were so plainly to propose to thy view the Matter that is first spoke to, it made me very careful in contriving thereof. But I was less curious in the Arguments of the Sections of his Reply, they being not so much to tell what is spoke to, as what is spoke in every particular Section. Besides this dividing his two Pamphlets into Sections, I have also prefixed A Brief Discourse concerning the Nature, Causes, Kinds, and Cure of Enthusiasm, where though my pains seem more entirely my own, then in the following Books, yet to confess ingenuously, they are here far less, I having had more easy and frequent access to Mastix in this so serious and weighty a Matter. After the whole compilement whereof it being reduced to that form thou seest it, desirous to leave out nothing, in so important a subject, that was of consequence to be put in; I asked him if it seemed not something maimed in the enumeration of the Causes of Enthusiasm, because there is nothing set down there concerning the Devil, nor the wilful wickedness of the mind of man; but all is resolved into Complexion or the present Temper or Distemper of the body, arising from natural causes that necessarily act thereupon. For thus this Discourse, said I, may seem as well an Excuse for, as a Discovery of this disease of Enthusiasm. Why, said Mastix, I hope it is not your design, I am sure it is not mine, to incense the minds of any against Enthusiasts as to persecute them: all that I aim at, is only this, that no man may follow them. And your Discourse already, I think, is effectual enough for that purpose, it so plainly discovering that what seems so strange and taking in them, is not from God, but a mere Constitution of body, the fanatical workings whereof, though they may be much heightened by some peculiar Vitiosity of the mind or subtle insinuations of the Devil, yet because it is not always so, and that it does very seldom plainly appear that there is any thing more of either Devil or Vitiosity in the Enthusiast then in others, saving what his mere Complexion leads him to, I think it is, said he, more safe to leave those Considerations out, their causality being more lax and general then to be appropriated to Enthusiasm, and it being far more laudable in my judgement and allowable to let the guilty go free, especially in matters of this nature, then to endanger the innocent. Thus, Reader, thou seest how thou art beholden to Mastix, as well for what is judiciously left out, as what is fitly and usefully taken in to the following Discourse. For I must confess, that in the unridling of this Riddle of Enthusiasm, I have wholly ploughed with his Heifer, which having told thee, I shall now dismiss thee, being unwilling any longer to detain thee from the reaping of the harvest of my Labours. Philophilus Parresiastes. The Contents of the ensuing Discourse. 1. THe great Use and necessity of discovering the imposture of Enthusiasm. 2. What Inspiration is and what Enthusiasm. 3. A search of the Causes of Enthusiasm in the Faculties of the Soul. 4. The several Degrees and Natures of her Faculties. 5. Why Dreams, till we awake, seem real transactions. 6. The enormous strength of Imagination the cause of Enthusiasm. 7. Sundry natural and corporeal causes that necessarily work on the Imagination. 8. The power of meats to change the Imagination. 9 Baptista his potion for the same purpose. 10. The power of diseases upon the Fancy. 11. Of the power of Melancholy, and how it often sets on some one absurd conceit upon the mind, the party in other things being sober. 12. Several Examples thereof. 13. A seasonable application of these examples for the weakening of the authority of bold Enthusiasts. 14. That the causality of Melancholy in this distemper of Enthusiasm is more easily traced then in other extravagancies. 15. Melancholy apertinacious and religious complexion. 16. That men are prone to suspect some special presence of God or of a Supernatural power in whatever is Great or Vehement. 17. The mistake of heated Melancholy for holy Zeal and the Spirit of God. 18. The Ebbs and Flows of Melancholy a further cause of Enthusiasm. 19 The notorious mockery of Melancholy in reference to Divine love. 20. That Melancholy partakes much of the Nature of Wine, and from what complexion Poets & Enthusiasts arise, & what the difference is betwixt them. 21. That a certain Dosis of Sanguine mixed with Melancholy is the Spirit that usually inspires Enthusiasts, made good by a large Induction of Examples. 22. More examples to the same purpose. 23. Of enthusiastical joy.. 24. Of the mystical Allegories of Enthusiasts. 25. Of Quaking and of the Quakers. 26. That Melancholy disposes to Apoplexies and Epilepsies. 27. Of the nature of Enthusiastic Revelations and Visions. 28. Of Ecstasy, The nature and causes thereof. 29. Whether it be in man's power to cast himself into an Enthusiastic Apoplexy, Epilepsy or Ecstasy. 30. Of Enthusiastic Prophecy. 31. Of the Presage of a man's own heart from a supernatural impulse sensible to himself, but unexplicable to others, where it may take place, and that it is not properly Enthusiasm. 32. Several examples of Political Enthusiasm. 33. David George his prophecy of his rising again from the Dead and after what manner it was fulfilled. 34. A description of his person, manners, & doctrine. 35. The evident causes of his power of speech. 36. An account of those seeming graces in him. 37. That he was a man of Sanguine complexion. 38. Further and more sure proofs that he was of that temper. 39 That it was a dark fulsome Sanguine that hid the truth of the great promises of the gospel from his e●es. 40. The exact likeness betwixt him and the Father of the modern Nicolaitans, and the Authors censure of them both. 41. A seasonable Advertisement in the behalf of them that are unawares taken with such Writers, as also a further confirmation that Enthusiastic madness may consist with sobriety in other matters. 42. Of Philosophical Enthusiasm. 43. Sundry Chemists and Theosophists obnoxious to this disease. 44. A promiscuous Collection of divers odd conceits out of several Theosophists and Chemists. 45. A particular Collection out of Paracelsus. 46. That it is he that has given occasion to the wildest Philosophic Enthusiasms that ever was yet on foot. 47. That his Philosophy, though himself intended it not, is one of the safest sanctuaries for the Atheist, and the very prop of ancient Paganism. 48. How it justifies the Heathens worshipping of the Stars, derogates from the authority of the miracles of our Saviour, makes the Gospel ineffectual for the establishing of the belief of a God, and a particular Providence, gratifies that professed Atheist Vaninus in what he most of all triumphs in, as serving his turn the best to elude all religion whatsoever. 49. That Paracelsus and his followers are neither Atheistical nor Diabolical, and what makes the Chemist ordinarily so pitiful a Philosopher. 50. The writer of this Discourse no foe to either Theosophist or Chemist, only he excuses himself from being over credulous in regard of either. 51. The cure of Enthusiasm by Temperance, Humility, and Reason. 52. What is meant by Temperance. 53. What by Humility and the great advantage thereof for Wisdom and Knowledge. 54, What by Reason, and what the danger is of leaving that Guide, as also the mistake of them that expect the Spirit should not suggest such things as are rational. 55. Further Helps against Enthusiasm. 56. Of the raised language of Enthusiasts; and of what may extraordinarily fall from them. 57 Of Enthusiastic prophecy that ordinarily happens to fools and madmen, and the reason why; as also why Extaticall men foresee things to come, and of the uncertainty of such predictions. 58. That if an Enthusiast should cure some diseases by touching or stroking the party diseased, that yet it might be no true mira●le. 59 Of the remote Notions, mysterious Style, and moving Eloquence of Enthusiasts. 60. How we shall distinguish betwixt pure Religion and Complexion. 61. That the devotional Enthusiasm of holy & sincere souls has not at all been taxed in all this Discourse. 62. That the fuel of devotion even in warrantable and sincere Enthusiasm is usually Melancholy. 63. That there is a peculiar advantage in Melancholy for divine speculations, and a prevention of the Atheists objection thereupon. 64. How it comes to pass that men are so nimble and dexterous in finding the truth of some things, and so slow and heavy in othersome, and that the dulness of the Atheists perception in divine matters is no argument against the truth of Religion. A short Discourse of the Nature, Causes, Kinds, and Cure of Enthusiasm. 1. HAving undertaken the republishing of the two following Books, and reduced them both under one common Title of Enthusiasm, I think it not amiss to speak somewhat by way of Preface, concerning the nature of that Disease, partly because it may be the better discerned of what good use the Author's pains are against this distemper of Fantastrie and Enthusiasm, and partly because by a more punctual discovery of this distemper, the distemper itself, or at least the ill influence of it upon the credulous & inconsiderate, may be prevented. For where the natural causes of things are laid open, there that stupid reverence and admiration which surprises the ignorant, will assuredly cease. Which is a thing of no less consequence than the preserving of that honest and rational way of the education of youth in liberal Arts and Sciences, and upholding of Christian Religion itself from being supplanted and overturned from the very foundations, by the dazzling and glorious plausibilities of bold Enthusiasts, who speaking great swelling words of vanity, bear down the weak and unskilful multitude into such a belief of Supernatural graces and inspirations in their admired Prophet, that they will not st●ck to listen to him, though he dictate to them what is contrary, not only to solid Reason and the judgement of the most learned and pious in all ages, but even to the undoubted Oracles of the holy Scriptures themselves. Wherefore for the detecting of this mysterious Imposture, we shall briefly, and yet, I hope, plainly enough, set out the Nature, Causes, Kind's, and Cure of this mischievous Disease. 2. The Etymology, and variety of the significations of this word Enthusiasm I leave to Critics and Grammarians, but what we mean by it here, you shall fully understand after we have defined what Inspiration is: For Enthusiasm is nothing else but a misconceit of being inspired. Now to be inspired, is to be moved in an extraordinary manner by the power or Spirit of God to act, speak, or think what is holy, just, and true. From hence it will be easily understood what Enthusiasm is, viz. A full, but false persuasion in a man that he is inspired. 3. We shall now inquire into the Causes of this Distempers how it comes to pass that a man should be thus befooled in his own conceit: And truly unless we should offer less satisfaction than the thing is capable of, we must not only treat here of Melancholy, but of the Faculties of the Soul of man, whereby it may the better be understood how she may become obnoxious to such disturbances of Melancholy, in which she has quite lost her own judgement and freedom, and can neither keep out nor distinguish betwixt her own fancies and real truths. 4. We are therefore to take notice of the several Degrees and Natures of the faculties of the Soul, the lowest whereof she exercises without so much as any perception of what she does, and these operations are fatal and natural to her so long as she is in the body, and a man differs in them little from a Plant, which therefore you may call the Vegetative or Plantall faculties of the Soul. The lowest of those Faculties of whose present operations we have any perception, are the outward Senses, which upon the pertingencie of the Object to the Sensitive Organ cannot fail to act, that is, the Soul cannot fail to be affected thereby, nor is it in her power to suspend her perception, or at least, very hardly in her power. From whence it is plain that the Soul is of that nature, that she sometimes may awake fatally and necessarily into Phantasms and Perceptions without any will or consent of her own. Which is found true also in Imagination, though that Faculty be freer than the former. For what are Dreams but the Imaginations and perceptions of one asleep, which notwithstanding steal upon the Soul, or rise out of her without any consent of hers, as is most manifest in such as torment us, and put us to extreme pain till we awake out of them. And the like obreptions or unavoidable importunities of Thoughts, which offer or force themselves upon the mind, may be observed even in the day time, according to the nature or strength of the complexion of our Bodies; though how the Body doth engage the mind in Thoughts or Imaginations, is most manifest in Sleep. For according as Choler, Sanguine, Phlegm, or Melancholy are predominant, will the Scene of our dreams be, and that without any check or curb of dubitation concerning the truth and existence of the things that then appear: Of which we can conceive no other reason then this, That the inmost seat of Sense is very fully and vigorously affected, as it is by objects in the day, of whose real existence the ordinary assurance is, that they so strongly strike or affect our sensitive Faculty; which resides not in the external Organs, no more than the Artificers skill in his instruments, but in some more inward Recesses of the brain: and therefore the true and real seat of Sense being affected in our sleep, as well as when we are awake, 'tis the less marvel the Soul conceits her dreams while she is a dreaming, to be no dreams but real transactions. 5. Now that the inward sense is so vigoroufly affected in these dreams, proceeds, as I conceive, from hence; because the Brains, Animal spirits, or what ever the Soul works upon within, in her imaginative operations, are not considerably moved, altered or agitated from any external motion, but keep entirely and fully that figuration or modification which the Soul necessarily & naturally moulds them into in our sleep, so that the opinion of the truth of what is represented to us in our dreams, is from hence, that Imagination then (that is, the inward figuration of our brain or spirits into this or that representation) is far stronger than any motion or agitation from without, which to them that are awake dims and obscures their inward imagination, as the light of the Sun doth the light of a candle in a room; and yet in this case also according to Aristotle Fancy is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, a kind of sense, though weak. But if it were so strong as to bear itself against all the occursions and impulses of outward objects, so as not to be broken, but to keep itself entire and in equal splendour and vigour with what is represented from without, and this not arbitrariously but necessarily and avoidable, as has been already intimated, the Party thus affected would not fail to take his own imagination for a real object of sense: as it fell out in one that Cartesius mentions, (and there are several other examples of that kind) that had his arm cut off, who being hoodwinked, complained of a pain in this and the other finger, when he had lost his whole arm. And a further instance may be in mad or Melancholy men, who have confidently affirmed that they have met with the Devil, or conversed with Angels, when it has been nothing but an encounter with their own fancy. 6. Wherefore it is the enormous strength of Imagination (which is yet the Soul's weakness or unweildinesse whereby she so far sinks into Phantasms, that she cannot recover herself into the use of her more free faculties of Reason and Understanding) that thus peremptorily engages a man to believe a lie. And if it be so strong as to assure us of the presence of some external object which yet is not there, why may it not be as effectual in the begetting of the belief of some more internal apprehensions, such as have been reported of mad and fanatical men, who have so firmly and immutably fancied themselves to be God the Father, the Messias, the Holy Ghost, the Angel Gabriel, the last and chiefest Prophet that God would send into the world, and the like? For their conceptions are not so pure or immaterial, nor solid or rational, but that these words to them are always accompanied with some strong Phantasm or full imagination; the fullness and clearness whereof, as in the case immediately before named, does naturally bear down the Soul into a belief of the truth and existence of what she thus vigorously apprehends; and being so wholly and entirely immersed in this conceit, and so vehemently touched therewith, she has either not the patience to consider any thing alleged against it, or if she do consider and find herself entangled, she will look upon it as a piece of humane sophistry, and prefer her own infallibility or the infallibility of the Spirit before a●l carnal reasonings whatsoever; As those whose fancies are fortified by long use and education in any absurd point of a false Religion, though wise enough in other things, will firmly hold the conclusion notwithstanding the clearest demonstration to the contrary. Now what Custom and Education doth by degrees, distempered Fancy may do in a shorter time. But the case in both is much like that in dreams, where that which is represented is necessarily taken for true, because nothing stronger enervates the perception. For as the ligation of the outward Organs of Sense keeps off such fluctuations or undulations of motion from without, as might break or obscure these representations in sleep; so prejudice and confidence in a conceit, when a man is awake, keeps his fond imagination vigorous and entire from all the assaults of Reason that would cause any dubitation. Nor is it any more wonder that his Intellectuals should be sound in other things, though he be thus delirious in some one point, no more than that he that thinks he sees the devil in a wood, should not be at all mistaken in the circumstance of place, but see the very same path, flowers, and grass that another in his wits sees there as well as himself. To be short therefore, the Original of such peremptory delusions as mankind are obnoxious to, is the enormous strength and vigour of the Imagination; which Faculty though it be in some sort in our power, as Respiration is, yet it will also work without our leave, as I have already demonstrated, and hence men become mad and fanatical whether they will or no. 7. Now what it is in us that thus captivates our Imagination, & carries it wide away out of the reach or hearing of that more free and superior faculty of Reason, is hard particularly to define. But that there are sundry material things that do most certainly change our mind or Fancy, experience doth sufficiently witness. For our Imagination altars as our Blood and Spirits are altered, (as I have above intimated and instanced in our dreams) and indeed very small things will alter them even when we are awake; The mere change of weather and various tempers of the air, a little reek or suffumigation, as in those seeds Pomponi●u Mela mentions, which the Thracians, who knew not the use of wine, wont at their feasts to cast into the fire, whereby they were intoxicated into as high a measure of mirth, as they that drink more freely of the blood of the grape: The virtue of which is so great, that as josephus' phrases it, it seems to create a new soul in him that drinks it, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, It transforms and regenerates the soul● into a new nature. But it doth most certainly bring a new scene of thoughts very ordinarily into their minds that have occasion to meddle with it. Which made the Persians undertake no weighty matter nor strike up a bargain of any great consequence, but they would consider of it first both well-nigh fuddled and sober. For if they liked it in all the representations that those two contrary Tempers exhibited to their minds, they thought themselves well assured that they might proceed safely and successfully therein. And yet wine doth not always so much change the thoughts and alter our temper as heighten it, in so much that its effect proves sometime contrary, only by reason of the diversity o● persons; some being weeping drunk, others laughing, some kind, others raging; as it happens also in those that are stung with the Tarantula. Alii perpetuò rid●nt, alii canunt, alii plorant, etc. as Sennertus observes out of Matthiolus. But that which they both seem most to admire is, That the Fancy of the Tarantulati should be so mightily carried away with Music; for they do not only forget their pain, but dance incessantly. Of which Epiphanius Ferdinandus tells a very remarkable story of an old man ninety four years of age, that could scarce creep with a staff, who yet being bit by the Tarantula, presently upon the hearing of Music leapt and skipped like a young kid. Akin to this is that kind of madness which they call S. Vitus his Dance, which disease Sennertus rightly affirms to proceed from a certain malignant humour gendered in the body, of near cognation with this poison of the Tarantula; which will help us for the explicating of the Causes of stranger workings on the fancy than has yet been mentioned. As for example, in the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which are distempers of the mind, whereby men imagine themselves to be Wolves, Cats, or Dogs. 8. There are several Relations in the forenamed Author concerning the power that nourishment has to work upon imagination, and to change a man's disposition into the nature of that creature whose blood or milk doth nourish him. A Wench at Bresla being struck with an Epilepsy upon the seeing of a Malefactors' head cut off by the Executioner, when several other remedies failed, was persuaded by some to drink the blood of a Cat, which being done, the wench not long after degenerates into the nature and property of that Animal, cries and jumps like a Cat, and hunts mice with like silence and watchfulness that they do, pursuing them as close as she could to their very holes. This Narration he transcribes out of Weinrichius, and has another short glance upon another in the same writer, of one that being long fed with swine's blood, took a special pleasure in wallowing and tumbling himself in the mire: as also of another Girl who being nourished up with Goat's milk, would skip like a Goat and browse on trees as Goats use to do. We might add a fourth, of one, who by eating the brains of a Bear became of a Bear-like disposition; but we will not insist upon smaller considerations. 9 Baptista Porta drives on the matter much further, professing that he had acquaintance with one that could, when he pleased, so alter the imagination of a man, as he would make him fancy himself to be this or that Bird, Beast, or Fish, and that in this madness the party thus deluded would move his body, as near as it was capable, so as such Creatures use to do; and if they were vocal, imitate also their voice. This intoxicating Potion is made of the extract of certain herbs, as Solanum manicum, Mandrake, and others, together with the heart, brain, and some other parts of this or that Animal, with whose image they would infect the fancy of the party. And he doth affirm of his own experience that trying this feat upon some of his comrades, when he was young, one that had gormundized much beef, upon the taking the potion, strongly imagined himself to be surrounded with bulls, that would be ever and anon running upon him with their horns. 10. What happens here in these cases where we can trace the Causes, sometimes falls out where we cannot so plainly and directly find out the reason. For Physicians take notice of such kind of madnesses as make men confidently conceit themselves to be Dogs, Wolves, and Cats, when they have neither eat the flesh nor drunk the blood of any Cat, Dog, or Wolf, nor taken any such artificial potion as we even now spoke of to bring them into these diseases. The causes of which cannot be better guessed at then has been by Sennertus in that of S. Vitus his dance. For as there the body is conceived to be infested by some malignant humour near akin to the poison of the Tarantula, so in these distempers we may well conclude that such fumes or vapours arise into the brain from some foulness in the body (though the particular causes we do not understand) as have a very near analogy to the noxious humours or exhalations that move up and down and mount up into the imagination of those that have drunk the blood of Cats, or have been nourished with the milk of those Animals above named, or taken such intoxicating potions as Baptista Porta has described. 11. We have given several instances of that mighty power there is in natural causes to work upon and unavoidably to change our imagination. We will name something now more general, whose nature notwithstanding is so various and Vertumnus-like, that it will supply the place of almost all particulars, and that is Melancholy; of which Aristotle gives witness that according to the several degrees and tempers thereof men vary wonderfully in their constitutions, it making some slow and sottish, others wild, ingenious, and amorous, prone to wrath and lust, others it makes more eloquent and full of discourse, others it raises up even to madness and Enthusiasm: and he gives an example of one Maracus a Poet of Syracuse, who never versified so well as when he was in his distracted fits. But it is most observable in Melancholy when it reaches to a disease, that it sets on some one particular absurd imagination upon the mind so fast, that all the evidence of reason to the contrary cannot remove it, the parties thus affected in other things being as sober and rational as other men. And this is so notorious and frequent that Aretaeus, Sennertus, and other Physicians define Melancholy from this very effect of it. 12. Aristotle affords us no examples of this kind, Others do. Democritus junior, as he is pleased to style himself, recites several stories out of Authors to this purpose. As out of Laurentius one concerning a French Poet, who using in a fevers Vnguentum populeum to anoint his temples to conciliate sleep, took such a conceit against the smell of that ointment, that for many years after he imagined every one that came near him to sent of it, and therefore would let no man talk with him but aloof off, nor would he wear any new clothes, because he fancied they smelled of that ointment; but in all other things he was wise and discreet, and would talk as sensibly as other men. Another he has of ● Gentleman of Limosen (out of Anthony Verduer) who was persuaded he had but one leg, affrighted into that conceit by having that part struck by a wild Boar, otherwise a man well in his wits. A third he hath out of Platerus, concerning a Countryman of his, who by chance having fallen into a pit where Frogs and Frogs-spawn was, and having swallowed down a little of the water, was afterward so fully persuaded that there were young frogs in his belly, that for many years following he could not rectify his conceit: He betook himself to the study of Physic for seven years together to find a cure for his disease: He traveled also in Italy, France, and Germany to confer with Physicians about it, and meeting with Platerus consulted him with the rest. He fancied the crying of his guts to be the croaking of the frogs, and when Platerus would have deceived him by putting live frogs into his excrements that he might think he had voided them and was cured; his skill in Physic made that trick ineffectual. For saving this one vain conceit, the man was, as he reports, a learned and prudent man. We will add only a fourth out of Laurentius, which is of a Nobleman of his time, a man of reason and discretion in all other things, saving that he did conceit himself made of glass; and though he loved to be visited by his friends, yet had a special care that they should not come too near him, for fear they should break him. Not much unlike to this is that of a Baker of Ferrara, that thought he was composed of butter, and therefore would not sit in the sun, nor come near a fire for fear he should be melted. It would be an infinite task to set down all at large. Sennertus has given some hints of the variety of this distemper, remitting us to Schenkius, Marcellus, Donatus, Forestus and others for more full Narrations. Some, saith he, are vexed and tormented with the fear of death, as thinking they have committed some crime they never did commit, some fancy they are eternally damned, nay they complain that they are already tormented with hell fire, others take themselves to be a dying, others imagine themselves quite dead, and therefore will not eat, others fear that the heavens will fall upon them, others dare not clinch their hands for fear of bruising the world betwixt their fists, some fancy themselves Cocks, some Nightingales, some one Animal, some another, some entertain conference with God or his Angels, others conceit themselves bewitched or that a black man or Devil perpetually accompanies them, some complain of their poverty, others fancy themselves persons of honour, Dukes, Princes, Kings, Popes, and what not? Much to this purpose may you see in Sennertus, and more in Democritus junior. 13. That which is most observable and most useful for the present matter in hand is; That notwithstanding there is such an enormous lapse of the fancy and judgement in some one thing, yet the party should be of a sound mind in all other, according to his natural capacities and abilities; which all Physicians acknowledge to be true, and are ready to make good by innumerable examples. Which I conceive to be of great moment more thoroughly to consider. I do not mean how it may come to pass (for that we have already declared) but what excellent use it may be of, for to prevent that easy and ordinary Sophism which imposes upon many, who, if an Enthusiast speak eloquently, and it may be rationally and piously (you may be sure zealously and fervently enough and with the greatest confidence can be imagined) are so credulous, that, because of this visible dress of such laudable accomplishments, they will believe him even in that which is not only not probable, but vain and foolish, nay, sometime very mischievous and impious to believe; as, That the party is immediately and extraordinarily inspired of God, that he is a special Messenger sent by him, the last and best Prophet, the holy Ghost come in the flesh, and such like stuff as this: which has been ever and anon set on foot in all ages by some Enthusiast or other. Amongst whom I do not deny but there may be some who for the main practical light of Christianity might have their judgements as consistent, as those Melancholists above named had in the ordinary prudential affairs of the world, but as for this one particular of being supernaturally inspired, of being the last Prophet, the last Trumpet, the Angel in the midst of Heaven with the eternal Gospel in his hand, the holy Ghost incorporated, God come to judgement, and the like, this certainly in them, is as true, but far worse, dotage, then to fancy a man's self either a Cock or Bull, when it is plain to the senses of all that he is a Man. 14. But it being of so weighty a concernment I shall not satisfy myself in this more general account of Enthusiasm, that it may very well be resolved into that property of Melancholy whereby men become to be delirious in some one point, their judgement standing untouched in others. For I shall. easily further demonstrate that the very nature of Melancholy is such, that it may more fairly and plausibly tempt a man into such conceits of inspiration and supernatural light from God, than it can possibly do into those more extravagant conceits of being Glass, Butter, a Bird, a Beast or any such thing. 15. For besides that which is most general of all, that Melancholy inclines a man very strongly and peremptorily to either believe or misbelieve a thing (as is plain in that passion of Suspicion and jealousy, which upon little or no occasion will win so full assent of the mind, that it will engage a man to act as vigorously as if he were certain that his jealousies were true) it is very well known that this Complexion is the most religious complexion that is, and will be as naturally tampering with divine matters (though in no better light than that of her own) as Apes and Monkeys will be imitating the actions and manners of men. Neither is there any true spiritual grace from God but this mere natural constitution, according to the several tempers and workings of it, will not only resemble, but sometimes seem to outstrip, by reason of the fury and excess of it, and that not only in Actions, but very ordinarily in Eloquence and Expressions; as if here alone were to be had that live sense and understanding of all holy things, or at least as if there were no other state to be paralleled to it. The event of which must be, if a very great measure of the true grace of God does not intervene, that such a Melancholist as this must be very highly puffed up, and not only fancy himself inspired, but believe himself such a special piece of Light and Holiness that God has sent into the world, that he will take upon him to reform, or rather annul the very Law and Religion he is born under, and make himself not at all inferior to either Moses or Christ, though he have neither any sound Reason nor visible miracle to extort belief. 16. But this is still too general, we shall yet more particularly point out the Causes of this Imposture. Things that are great or vehement, People are subject to suspect they rise from some supernatural cause; insomuch that the wind cannot be more than ordinary high, but they are prone to imagine the Devil raised it, nor any sore Plague or Disease, but God in an extraordinary manner to be the Author of it. So rude Antiquity conceived a kind of Divinity in almost any thing that was extraordinarily great. Whence some have worshipped very tall Trees, others large Rivers, some a great Stone or Rock, othersome high and vast mountains, whence the Greeks confound great and holy in that one word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that signifies both. And the Hebrews by the Cedars of God, the mountains of God, the Spirit of God, and the like, understand high Cedars, great Mountains, and a mighty Spirit or Wind. We may add also what is more familiar, how old Women and Nurses use to tell little Children when they ask concerning the Moon, ●●●ting at it with their fingers, that it is God's Candle, because it is so great a Light in the night. All which are arguments or intimations, that man's nature is v●●y prone to suspe●t some special presence of God in any thing that is great, or vehement. Whence it is a strong temptation with a Melancholist when he feels a storm of devotion or zeal come upon him like a mighty wind, his heart being full of affection, his head pregnant with clear and sensible representations, and his mouth flowing and streaming with fit and powerful expressions, such as would astonish an ordinary Auditory to hear; it is I say a shrewd temptation to him to think that it is the very Spirit of God that then moves supernaturally in him, when as all that excess of zeal and affection and fluency of words is most palpably to be resolved into the power of Melancholy, which is a kind of natural inebriation. And that there is nothing better than nature in it, it is evident both from the experience of good and discreet men, who have found themselves strangely vary in their zeal, devotion and elocution as Melancholy has been more or less predominant in them, and also from what all may observe in those that have been wicked, mad and blasphemous, and yet have surpassed in this mistaken gift of prayer; as is notorious in Hacket, who was so besotted with a conceit of his own zeal and eloquence, that he fancied himself the Holy-Ghost. 17. And when men talk so much of the Spirit, if they take notice what they ordinarily mean by it, it is nothing else but a strong and impetuous motion whereby they are zealously and fervently carried in matters of Religion: so that Fervour, Zeal, and Spirit is in effect all one. Now no Complexion is so hot as Melancholy when it is heated, being like boiling water, as Aristotle observs (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.) so that it transcends the flame of fire, or it is 〈◊〉 heated stone or iron when they are red hot, for they are then more hot by far than a burning Coal. We shall omit here to play the Grammarian, and to take notice how well Aristotle's 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 suits with the very word zeal of which we speak, but shall cast our eyes more carefully upon the things themselves, and parallel out of the same Philosopher what they call Spirit, to what he affirms to be contained in Melancholy. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. The spirit then that wings the Enthusiast in such a wonderful ●anner, is nothing else but that flatulency which is in the melancholy complexion, & rises out of the Hypochondriacal humour upon some occasional heat, as wind out of an AEolipila applied to the fire. Which fume mounting into the head, being first actuated and spirited and somewhat refined by the warmth of the heart, fills the mind with variety of imaginations, and so quickens and enlarges invention, that it makes the Enthusiast to admiration fluent and eloquent, he being as it were drunk with new wine drawn from that Cellar of his own that lies in the lowest region of his body, though he be not aware of it, but takes it to be pure Nectar, and those waters of life that spring from above. Aristotle makes a long Parallelisme betwixt the nature and effects of wine and Melancholy, to which both Fernelius and Sennertus do refer. 18. But this is not all the advantage that Melancholy affords towards Enthusiasm, thus unexpectedly and suddenly to surprise the mind with such vehement fits of zeal, such streams & torents of Eloquence in either exhorting others to piety, or in devotions towards God; but it adds a greater weight of belief that there is something supernatural in the business, in that the same complexion discovers itself to them that lie under it in such contrary effects. For as it is thus vehemently hot, so it is as stupidly cold; whence the Melancholist becomes faithless, hopeless, heartless and almost witless. Which Ebbs of his constitution must needs make the overflowing of it seem more miraculous and supernatural. But those cold and abject fits of his make him also very sensibly and winningly Rhetorical, when he speaks of disconsolation, desertion, humility, mortification, and the like, as if he were truly and voluntarily carried through such things, when as only the fatal necessity of his complexion has violently dragged him thorough the mere shadows and resemblances of them. But he finding himself afterwards beyond all hope or any sense or presage of any power in himself lifted aloft again, he does not doubt that any thing less was the cause of this unexpected joy and triumph, than the immediate arm of God from heaven that has thus exalted him, when it is nothing indeed but a Paroxysm of Melancholy which is like the breaking out of a flame after a long smoking and reeking of new rubbish laid upon the fire. But because such returns as these come not at set times, nor make men sick, but rather delight them, they think there is something divine therein, and that it is not from natural causes. 19 There is also another notorious Mockery in this Complexion, Nature confidently avouching herself to be God, whom the Apostle calls Love, as if it were his very essence; when as indeed it is here nothing else but Melancholy that has put on the garments of an Angel of light. There is nothing more true than that Love is the fulfilling of the Law, and the highest perfection that is compatible to the soul of man; and that this also is so plain and unavoidable, that a man may be in a very high degree mad, and yet not fail to assent unto it. Nay, I dare say, Melancholy itself would be his monitour to remind him of it, if there were any possibility that he should forget so manifest and palpable a Truth. For the sense of Love at large is eminently comprehended in the temper of the Melancholist, Melancholy and wine being of so near a nature one to the other. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, But wine makes men amorous; which the Philosopher proves in that a man in wine will kiss such persons as a sober man would scarce touch with a pair of tongs, by reason of their age and ugliness. And assuredly it was the fumes of Melancholy that infatuated the fancy of a late new fangled Religionist, when he sat so kindly by a Gipsy under an hedge, and put his hand into her bosom in a fit of devotion, and vaunted afterwards of it as if it had been a very pious and meritorious action. 20. But now that Melancholy partakes much of the nature of Wine, he evinces from that it is so spiritous; and that it is so spiritous, from that it is so spumeous: and that Melancholy is flatuous or spiritous, he appeals to the Physicians, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Wherefore the Philosopher assigns another companion to Venus besides the plump youth Bacchus, which the Poets bestow upon her, who, though more seemingly sad, yet will prove as faithful an attendant as that other, and this is Melancholy. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Now besides this flatulency that solicits to lust, there may be such a due dash of Sanguine in the Melancholy, that the complexion may prove stupendiously enravishing. For that more sluggish Dulcour of the blood will be sometime so quickened and actuated by the fierceness and sharpness of the Melancholy humour (as the fulsomeness of sugar is by the acrimony of Lemons) that it will afford far more sensible pleasure; and all the imaginations of love, of what kind soever, will be far more lively and vigorous, more piercing and rapturous, than they can be in pure Sanguine itself. From this complexion are Poets, and the more highly pretending Enthusiasts: Betwixt whom this is the great difference, that a Poet is an Enthusiast in jest, and an Enthusiast is a Poet in good earnest; Melancholy prevailing so much with him, that he takes his no better than Poetical fits, and figments for divine inspiration and real truth. 21. But that it is a mere natural flatuous and spiritous temper with a proportionable Dosis of Sanguine added to their Melancholy, not the pure Spirit of God that thus inacts them; is plainly to be discovered not only in their language, which is very sweet and melting, as if sugar plums lay under their tongue, but from notorious circumstances of their lives. And in my apprehension it will be a sufficient pledge of this truth if we set before our eyes those that have the most highly pretended to the Spirit, and that have had the greatest power to delude the people. For that that pride and tumour of mind whereby they are so confidently carried out to profess, as well as to conceive so highly of themselves, that no less Title must serve their turns, then that of God, the holy-Ghost, or Paraclet, the Messias, the last and chiefest Prophet, the judge of the quick and the dead, and the like; that all this comes from Melancholy is manifest by a lower kind of working of that complexion. For to begin with the first of these Impostors, Simon Magus, who gave out that he was God the father, he proved himself to be but a wretched lecherous man by that inseparable companion of his, Helena, whom he called Selene; and affirmed to be one of the Divine powers, when she was no better than a lewd Strumpet. There was also one Menander a Samaritan, that vaunted himself to be the Saviour of the world, a maintainer of the same licentious and impure opinions with Simon. Montanus professed himself to be the Spirit of God, but that it was the spirit of Melancholy that besotted him, his two drabs Prisca and Maximilla evidently enough declare, who are said to leave their own husbands to follow him. We might add a third, one Quintilla, a woman of no better fame and an intimate acquaintance of the other two, from whence the Montanists were also called Quintillians. Manes also held himself to be the true Paraclet, but lest a sect behind him indoctrinated in all licentious and filthy principles. Mahomet more successful than any, the last and chiefest Prophet that ever came into the world, (if you will believe him) that he was Melancholy, his epileptical fits are one argument, and his permission of plurality of wives and concubines, his lascivious descriptions of the joys of heaven or Paradise, another. But I must confess I do much doubt whether he took himself to be a Prophet or no; for he seems to me rather a pleasant witty companion, and shrewd Politician, than a mere Enthusiast: and so wise as not to venture his credit or success upon mere conceits of his own, but he builds upon the weightiest principles of the Religion of Jews and Christians: such as, That God is the Creator and Governor of the world, That there are Angels and Spirits, That the Soul of man is immortal, and that there is a Judgement and an everlasting reward to come after the natural death of the body. So that indeed Mahometism seems but an abuse of certain principles of the doctrine of Moses and Christ to a political design, and therefore in itself far to be preferred before the vain and idle Enthusiasms of Dâvid George; who yet was so highly conceited of his own light, that he hoped to put Mahomet's nose out of joint, giving out of himself that he was the last and chiefest prophet, when as lef● to the intoxication of his own Melancholy and Sanguine, he held neither heaven nor hell, neither reward nor punishment after this life, neither Devil nor Angel, nor the immortality of the Soul; but though born a Christian, yet he did Mahomitise in this that he also did indulge plurality of wives. It should seem that so dark and fulsome a dash of Blood there was mixed with his Melancholy, that though the one made him a pretended Prophet, yet the other would not suffer him to entertain the least presage of any thing beyond this mortal life. He also that is said to insist in his steps, and talks so magnificently of himself, as if he was come to judge both the quick and the dead, by an injudicious distorting and forcing of such plain substantial passages of Scripture as assure us of the existence of Angels and Spirits, and of a life to come, bears his condemnation in himself, and proclaims to all the world that he is rather a Priest of Venus or a mere sidereal Preacher out of the sweetness and powerfulness of his own natural Complexion, than a true Prophet of God, or a friend of the mystical Bridegroom Christ jesus; to whose very person as to her Lord and Sovereign, the Church his spouse, doth owe all reverential love and honour. But such bloated and high swollen Enthusiasts that are so big in the conceit of their own inward worth, have little either sense or belief of this duty, but fancy themselves either equal or superior to Christ; Whom notwithstanding God has declared supreme head over men and Angels. And yet they would disthrone him, and set up themselves, though they can show no Title but an unsound kind of popular Eloquence, a rhapsody of sleight and soft words, rolling and streaming Tautologies, which if they at any time bear any true sense with them, it is but what every ordinary Christian knew before; But what they oft insinuate by the by, is a bominably false, as sure as Christianity itself is true. Yet such fopperies as these seem fine things to the heedless and pusillanimous: but surely Christ will raise such a discerning spirit in his Church, that by Evidence and conviction of Reason, not by force or external power, such Mock-prophets and false Messiasses as these will be discountenanced and hissed off of the stage; nor will there be a man that knows himself to be a Christian that will receive them. 22, We have I think by a sufficient Induction discovered the condition and causes of this mysterious mockery of Enthusiastical love in the highest workings of it, and shown how it is but in effect a natural complexion, as very often Religious zeal in general is discovered to be: As is also observable from the tumultuous Anabaptists in Germany: For amongst other things that they contended for, this was not the least, to wit, a freedom to have many wives: So that it should seem that for the most part this religious heat in men, as it arises merely from nature, is like Aurum fulminans, which though it fly upward somewhat, the greatest force when it is fired is found to go downward. This made that religious sect of the Beguardi conceit that it was a sin to kiss a woman, but none at all to lie with her. The same furnished Carpocrates and Apelles, `two busy sectaries in their time, the one with his Marcellina, the other with his Philumena to spend their lust upon. 23. But enough of this. Nearest to this Enthusiastical affection of Love is that of joy and Triumph of Spirit, that Enthusiasts are several times actuated withal to their own great admiration. But we have already intimated the near affinity betwixt Melancholy and Wine, which cheers the heart of God and Man, as is said in the Parable. And assuredly Melancholy that lies at first smoaring in the heart and blood, when heat has overcome it (it consisting of such solid particles, which then are put upon motion and agitation) is more strong and vigorous than any thing else that moves in the blood and Spirits, and comes very near to the nature of the highest Cordials that are. Which Aristotle also witnesses, asserting that Melancholy while it is cold, causes sadness and despondency of mind, but once heated, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Ecstasies and Raptures with triumphant joy and singing. 24. There are Three delusions yet behind which because they come into my memory I will not omit to speak of, viz. Mystical interpretations of Scripture, Quakings, and Visions, all which are easily resolved into effects of Melancholy. For as for the first we have already shown that Melancholy as well as Wine, makes a man Rhetorical or Poetical; and that Genius how fancieful it is, and full of allusions and Metaphors and fine resemblances, every one knows. And what greater matter is there in applying moral and spiritual meanings to the history of the Bible, then to the History of Nature? and there is no Rhetorician nor Poet but does that perpetually. Or how much easier is it to make a story to set out a moral meaning, then to apply a moral sense to such stories as are already a foot? And for the former AEsop was old excellent at it without any suspicion of inspiration, and the later Sir Francis Bacon has admirably well performed in his Sapientia Veterum, without any such peculiar or extraordinary illapses of a divine Spirit into him, a business, I dare say, he never dreamt of, and any man that understands him will willingly be his Compurgatour. 25. And for Quaking, which deluded souls take to be an infallible sign they are in actuated by the Spirit of God; that it may be only an effect of their Melancholy is apparent: for none have so high passions as Melancholists; and that Fear, Love or Veneration in the height will cause great Trembling, cannot be denied. And to these passions none are any thing nigh so obnoxious as those of the Melancholy Complexion, because of the deepness of their resentments and apprehensions. That Fear causes trembling there is nothing more obvious, and it is as true of Love, which the Comedian had judiciously noted in that passage where Phaedria upon the sight of his Thais, speaking to Parmeno, Totus tremo, says he, horreóque post quam aspexi hanc. And for Veneration, which consists in a manner of these two mixed together, it is a passion that Melancholy men are sound plunged in whether they will or no, when they are to make their addresses to any person of honour or worth, or to go about some solemn or weighty performance in public, they will quake & tremble like an Aspinleaf; some have been struck silent, others have fallen down to the ground. And that Fancy in other cases will work upon the Spirits, and cause a tumultuous and disorderly comotion in them, or so suffocate the heart that motion will be in a manner quite extinct, and the party fall down dead, are things so familiarly known, that it is enough only to mention them. Wherefore it is no wonder the Enthusiast fancying these natural Paroxysms with which he is surprised, to be extraordinary visits of the Deity, and illapses of the holy Ghost into his Soul; which he cannot but then receive; with the highest Veneration imaginable; it is no wonder, I say, that Fear, and joy, and Love should make such a confusion in his spirits, as to put him into a fit of trembling and quaking. In which case the fervour of his spirits and heat of imagination may be wrought-up to that pitch that it may amount to a perfect Epilepsy, as it often happens in that sect they call Quakers, who undoubtedly are the most Melancholy Sect that ever was yet in the world. 26. Now that Melancholy disposes a man to Apoplexies and Epilepsies is acknowledged both by Philosophers and Physicians. For what is Narcotical and deads' the motion of the Spirits, if it be highly such, proves also Apoplectical. Besides gross vapours stopping the Arteriae Carotides and Plexus Coroides, and so hindering the recourse and supply of Spirits, may do the same. Some would illustrate the matter from the fumes of Charcoal; that has often made men fall down dead. But take any or all of these, Melancholy is as like to afford such noxious vapours as any other temper whatsoever. And that an Epilepsy may arise from such like causes, these two diseases being so near a kin, as Galen writes, is very reasonable; and that the morbific matter is, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as his Master Pelops expresses it, it is evident from the sudden and easy discussion of the fit. 27. But in both these there being a ligation of the outward senses, what ever is then represented to the mind is of the nature of a dream. But these fits being not so ordinary as our natural sleep, these dreams the praecipitant and unskilful are forward to conceit to be Representations extraordinary and supernatural, which they call Revelations or Visions, of which there can be no certainty at all no more than of a Dream. 28. The mention of Dreams puts me in mind of another Melancholy Symptom, which Physicians call Ecstasy, which is nothing else but Somnus praeter naturam profundus, the causes whereof are none other than those of natural sleep, but more intense and excessive; the effect is the deliration of the party after he awakes; for he takes his dreams for true Histories and real Transactions. The reason whereof, I conceive, is the extraordinary clearness and fullness of the representations in his sleep, arising from a more perfect privation of all communion with this outward world, and so there being no interfareings or cross-strokes of motion from his body so deeply overwhelmed and bedeaded with sleep, what the imagination than puts forth of herself, is as clear as broad day, and the perception of the soul is at least as strong and vigorous as it is at any time in beholding things awake, and therefore Memory as thoroughly sealed therewith, as from the sense of any external Object. The vigour and clearness of these Visions differs from those in ordinary sleep, as much as the liveliness of the images let in artificially into a dark room accurately darkened from those in one carelessly made dark, some chinks or crevices letting in light, where they should not. But strength of perception is no sure ground of truth: And such visions as these let them be never so clear, yet they are still in the nature of dreams. And he that regardeth dreams is like him that catcheth at a shadow, or followeth after the wind, as Syracides speaks. 29. Whether it be in any man's power to fall into these Epilepsies, Apoplexies, or Ecstasies when he pleases, is neither an useless nor a desperate question: For we may find a probable solution from what has been already intimated; for the Enthusiast in one of his Melancholy intoxications (which he may accelerate by solemn silence and intense and earnest meditation) finding himself therein so much beyond himself, conceits it a sensible presence of God, and a supernatural manifestation of the Divinity, which must needs raise that passion of Veneration, and most powerful Devotion, which consists of Love, Fear, and Joy, which single passions have been able to kill men or cast them into a trance, how can they then (if they be well followed by imagination and desire in the Enthusiast of a nearer union with this inward Light) fail to cast him into Tremble, Convulsions, Apoplexies, Ecstasies, and what not; Melancholy being so easily changeable into these symptoms? And it is very probable that this may be the condition of some of those they call Quakers. But for St. Augustine's African Presbyter (who was named Restitutus) who by a lamenting voice or mournful tone would be cast into such an Ecstasy, he is found alone in that, and is hardly imitable, it arising from some proper & peculiar constitution of his own. That Cardan and Facius his Father could cast themselves when they would into an Ecstasy, I can as easily believe as that the Laplanders could, and do in my own judgement refer them both to one cause, which Sennertus notes that Cardan somewhere does intimate concerning his Father, that he had 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which I conceive also to be the case of the worse sort of Quakers. But this kind of Enthusiasm I do not so much aim at as that which is Natural. As for those Visions that Enthusiasts see waking, we have already referred their causes to that strength of Imagination in a Melancholy Spirit. 30. And for that fervour of mind whereby they are carried out so confidently to foretell things to come, that there is nothing supernatural in it may be evidenced in that either some probable grounds, that ordinary prudence may discover, might move them to think this or that, the vehemency of their own Melancholy adding that confidence to their presage as if God himself had set it upon his Spirit; or else in that they most frequently presage false, and therefore when they foretell true, it is justly imputed to chance. As a man that dreams a nights, it is a hard case if in so many years' dreams he light not on some 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as they are called, such as are plainly and directly true, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as they that shoot oft may some times hit the mark, (as Plutarch speaks) but 'tis more by luck then good skill. 31. And yet notwithstanding humbly conceive that there may be such a presage in the spirit of a man that is to act in things of very high concernment to himself or to the public, as may be a sure guide to him, especially if he continue sincerely devout and pious. For it is not at all improbable but such as act in very public affairs in which Providence has a more special hand, that these agents driving on her design may have a more special assistance and animation from her. Of which, as others have not the sense, so neither can they imagine the manner of it. And this is the case, I think, wherein that of Syracides may be verified, That a man's own heart will tell him more than seven watchmen on an high Tower. But this is Enthusiasm in the better sense, and therefore not so proper for our discourse who speak not of that which is true, but of that which is a mistake; the Causes whereof we having so fully laid down, we will now consider the Kinds of it, burr briefly and only so far forth as suits with our present purpose and design. Wherefore setting aside all accuracy, we shall content ourselves to distribute it from the condition of the Persons in which it resides, into Political and Philosophical. For Enthusiasm most-what works according to the natural Genius of the party it doth surprise. 32. Wherefore those whose temper carries them most to Political affairs, who love rule and honour and have a strong sense of civil rights, Melancholy heating them makes them sometimes fancy themselves great Princes (at least by divine assignment) & deliverers of the people sent from God, such as were in likelihood the false Messiasses that deceived the people of the Jews, as Theudas and that Egyptian Impostor, also Barcocab, jonathas, Dositheus and several others, who its likely, it being the common fame amongst the Jews that the Messias the deliverer was about that time to come, according to the heat and forwardness of their own Melancholy, conceited themselves to be him. Which is the easier to believe, there being several instances in History of those that have fancied themselves Monarches, Popes, and Emperors, when as yet they have been but Footboys, Grooms, and Servingmen. Whether there might not be as much of Villainy as Melancholy in some of these false Messiasses, if it be suspected, it will be hard to take off the suspicion. But there was a Germane in whom we may more safely instance not many years ago here in England, that styled himself a Warrior of God, David the second, who in deep compassion of the sufferings of his Country would very fain have got some few forces here in England to carry over; with which he was confident he could have silenced the enemy and settled all Germany in peace. The man seemed to be a very religious man, and a great hater of Tyranny and oppression, and very well in his wits to other things, only he was troubled with this infirmity that he fancied himself that David the Prophets foretell of, who should be that peaceable Prince and great Deliverer of the Jews. He published a short writing of his which I had the opportunity of seeing, which was full of zeal and Scripture-eloquence: I saw his person in London, if he that showed me him was not mistaken. He was a tall proper man, of a good age, but of a very pale wasted melancholy countenance. Another also of later years I had the hap to meet withal, whose discourse was not only rational but pious, and he seemed to have his wits very well about him, nor could I discover the least intimation to the contrary, only he had this flaw that he conceited that he was by God appointed to be that fifth Monarch of which there is so much noise in this age, which imagination had so possessed him, that he would sometime have his servant to serve him all in plate, and upon the knee, as a very learned and religious friend of mine told me afterward. 33. Wherefore I do not look upon this man as so sober as the former, nor on either as comparable to that David that was born at Delft, lived first in lower Germany with those of his sect, after came to Basil, Anno 1544. and there died, 1556. and was digged up again, 1559. Wherein his prophecy of himself was in an ill-favoured manner fulfilled, who to uphold the fluctuating minds of his followers, whom he would have persuaded that he was immortal, told them at his death, that he should rise again within three years, presaging that of himself that he denied would ever come to pass in any one else. 34 This David George a man of very low parentage, was yet in the judgement of his very enemies, one of notable natural parts, a comely person to look upon, and of a graceful presence. He was also square of body, yellow-bearded, grey eyed bright and shining, grave and sedate in speech; in a word, all his motions, gestures and demeanours were so decent and becoming, as if he had been wholly composed to honesty and godliness. He lived very splendidly and magnificently in his house, and yet without the least stir or disorder. He was a religious frequenter of the Church, a liberal reliever of the poor, a comfortable visitor of the sick, obedient to the Magistrate, kind and affable to all persons, discreet in all things, very cunning in some, as in his closeness and reservedness in his Doctrine to those of Basil, where he lived, to whom he communicated not one jota of it, but yet he sedulously dispersed it in the further parts of Germany both by books and letters, the main heads whereof you shall hear as follows. 1. That the doctrine hitherto delivered by Moses, the Prophets, Christ himself, and his Apostles, is maimed and imperfect, published only to keep men in a childish obedience for a time, till the fullness and perfection of David George his Doctrine should be communicated to the world, which is the only doctrine that can make mankind happy, and replenish them with the knowledge of God. 2. That David George is the true Christ and Messias, the dear Son of God, born not of the flesh but of the holy Ghost and Spirit of Christ, which God had reserved in a secret place, his body being reduced to nothing, and has infused it wholly into the soul of David George. 3. That this David the Messias is to restore the house of Israel, and reerect the Tabernacle of God, not by the cross, afflictions and death, as the other Messias; but by that sweetness and love and grace that is given to him of his Father. 4. That the power of remission of sins is given to this David George, and that it is he that is now come to judge the world with the last judgement. 5. That the holy Scriptures, the sayings and testimonies of the Prophets, of Christ and of his Apostles do all point, if rightly understood in the true mystery of them, to the glorious coming of David George, who is greater than Christ himself, as being born of the spirit and not of the flesh. 6. That all sin and blasphemy against the Father or the Son may be remitted or pardoned, but the sin against the holy Ghost, that is, against David George, is never to be remitted. 7. That the resurrection of Christ out of the grave, and the resurrection of the dead is a mere mystery or Allegory. 8. That Angels and Devils are only good men and evil men, or their Virtues and Vices. 9 That Matrimony is free, no obligation, and that no man thereby is confined to one woman; but that procreation of children shall be promiscuous or in common to all those that are born again or regenerated by the spirit of David George. These things are recorded in the Life and Doctrine of David George, published by the Rector and University of Basil 1559. 35. As for his own writings not a little admired by some, his moving eloquence, his powerful animations to the great duties of Godliness, I have already laid down such natural Principles as they may be easily resolved into, without any recourse to any supernatural Spirit. For a man illiterate, as he was, but of good parts, by constant reading of the Bible will naturally contract a more winning and commanding Rhetoric then those that are learned, the intermixture of tongues and of artificial phrases debasing their style, and making it sound more after the manner of men, though ordinarily there may be more of God in it then in that of the Enthusiast. 36. If he may with some zeal and commotion of mind recommend to hi● Reader, Patience, peaceableness, Meekness, Brotherly kindness, Equity, Discretion, Prudence, self-denial, Mortification, and the like, there is nothing in all this but what his own Sanguine temper may suggest without any inspiration from God. For there is no Christian virtue to be named which concerns manners, but Complexion will afford a spurious imitation of it: and therefore they answering in so near similitude one to another, it will be an easy thing to colour over those mere Mock-graces with Scripture Phrases; so that he that has but these complexional Virtues and a scriptural style, amongst the less skilful will look like an Apostle or Prophet, but amongst the rude Multitude he may boast himself to be what he will without suspicion or contradiction. The most unlikely of all these imitations is Self-deni●ll, which seems abhorrent from a Sanguine temper; But Enthusiasm is not without a mixture of Melancholy and we are speaking now of Enthusiastic Sanguine, in which the fiercer Passions will also lodge, and therefore this Self-denial & Mortification may be nothing else but the Sanguines cenflict and victory over the most harsh and fierce Melancholy. And that it is the Reign of Sanguine, not the Rule of the Spirit, is discoverable both from the complexion of the head of this sect, as also from the general disposition of his followers, and that tender love they bear to their own dear carcases, who would not, I dare say, suffer the least aching of their little fingers by way of external Martyrdom for any Religion; and therefore their prudence and discretion consists most in juggle, equivocations, and slight tergiversations, peaceable compliances with anything rather then to suffer in body or goods: which is the natural dictate of Sanguine triumphant; which dominion yet seems far better than the Tyranny of Choler and Melancholy, whose pragmatical ferocity can neither prove good to itself nor just to others; being prone to impose, and as forward to avenge the refusal of every frivolous and impertinent foppery or abhorred falsity with inhuman and cruel persecutions. 37. Now that Sanguine was the complexion of David George, the foregoing description of his person will probably intimate to any Physiognomer. For it is very hard to find an healthy body very comely and beautiful, but the same proves more than ordinarily venereous and lustful. We might instance in several both men and women. Helena, Lais, Faustina, Alcibiades, Ishmael Sophi of Persia, and Demetrius, who is said to have been of an admirable countenance, and majestic graceful presence, mingled with gravity and benignity, also exceeding full of clemency, justice, piety and liberality but so libidinous and voluptuous, that no King was ever to be compared to him. 38. But two surer signs are yet behind of this Prophets natural constitution, which are, His denying of a life to come and existence of Angels or Spirits, and his allowing of plurality or community of wives. The former whereof I must confess I cannot so much impute to any thing as to a more luscious and fulsome mixture of Sanguine in his Enthusiastic complexion. For nothing will so slake a man's desires, or dead his belief of that more spiritual and immaterial state and condition, as this sweet glut of blood that so thickens and clouds the Spirits, that the mind cannot imagine or presage any thing beyond the present concernment of this mortal Body. And of the latter I think it is acknowledged by all, that no such genuine cause can be assigned as this same complexion of Sanguine that disposes men so strongly to the love of women. 39 Wherefore this Enthusiast being overborne by the power of his own constitution into the misbelief of those great promises of Eternal life, set forth in the Scripture, took the holy writers thereof either to be mistaken, or only to have intended Allegories by what they writ; and that fervour that he found in himself to love, and peace, and equity and the like, boiling so high as to the driving of him into a persuasion that he was inspired, he conceited his misbelief of those precious promises of Immortality and glory in the heavens, a special piece of illumination also; and the resurrection of the dead to be nothing else but to be raised into a like ardency towards such things with himself, and to a like misbelief with him of that celestial crown the Apostle speaks of. And therefore he not being able to raise his mind by faith to heaven, he brought heaven to earth in his vain imagination: Which was less pains than Mahomet took, who was fain to walk to the mountain, when he saw the mountain would not move to him. 40. This is a brief account of David George, whose error the Father of our modern Nicolaitans did drink in so carefully, as if he were loath one drop should spill beside. Never was that in Solomon so plainly verified in any as in these two, As face answers to face, so the heart of man to man. Wherefore concerning them both I dare pronounce, that though they equalised themselves to Christ, and made themselves Judges of the quick and the dead, yet they were more devoid of true judgement in matters of religion than the meanest of sincere Christians; and though they have so deified, or (as they phrase it) begodded themselves all over, I might say bedaubed themselves with the feigned and counterfeit colours or paint of high swelling words of vanity to amaze the vulgar, yet they were in truth mere men, of shallow minds and liquorsome bodies, cleaving to the pleasures of the flesh, and so deeply relishing the sweet of this present life, that all hope or desire of that better was quite extinct in them; and therefore their settled and radicate ignorance made them so Enthusiastically confident in their own error. 41. But that my zeal to the Truth may not turn to the injury of any, I cannot pass by this Advertisement; That this poison we speak of is so subtly conveyed, and silently supposed in the reading these writings, that a good man and a true Christian may be easily carried away into an approbation of them without any infection by them (as not minding what they imply or drive at) or yet any defection from the main principles of Christianity; and indeed by how much the heat seems greater toward the highest perfection of holiness, the Reader is made the more secure of the Writers soundness in the main Essentials of Religion, though it be far otherwise at the bottom. For Madness and Melancholy drive high, and we have proved by divers instances that a man may be most ridiculously and absurdly wild in some one thing, and yet sound and discreet in the rest, as Gazeus handsomely sets it out in a story of an old man that conceited himself God the Father. And Acosta verifies it in a true history of his own knowledge concerning a certain learned and venerable Professor of Divinity in the K●●gdome of Peru, whom he doth affirm to have been as perfectly in his senses, as to soundness of brain, as himself was at that time when he wrote the Narration; Which being something long ● shall transcribe only what precisely makes to my purpose. This Peruvia● Doctor would sadly and soberly affirm that he should be a King, yea and a Pope too, the Apostolical Sea being translated to those parts, as also that holiness was granted unto him above all Angels and heavenly hosts, and above all Apostles, yea, that God made proffer unto him of Hypostatical union, but that he refused ●o accept of it. Moreover that he was appointed to be Redeemer of the world as to matter of Efficacy, which Christ, he said, had been no further then to Sufficiency only. That all Ecclesiastical estate was to be abrogated, and that he would make new Laws, plain and easy, by which the restraint of Clergymen from marriage should be taken a way, and multitude of wives allowed, and all necessity of Confession avoided. Which things he did maintain before the Judges of the Inquisition with that earnestness and confidence, with so many and so large citations out of the Prophets, Apocalypse, Psalms, and other books, with such unexpected Applications, and Allegorical Interpretations of them, that the Auditotory knew not whether they should laugh more at his fancy, or admire his memory. But himself was so well assured of the matter, that nothing but death could quit him of the delirium. For he died a Martyr to this piece of madness of his, to the eternal infamy of his Judges, who were either so unwise as not to know that Melancholy may make a man delirious as to some one particular thing, though his Intellectuals be sound in others, or else so cruel and barbarous as to murder a poor distracted man. The story you may read more at large in a late Treatise concerning Enthusiasm; what I have transplanted hither, is further to evidence the truth of what Physicians say of Melancholy, that it may only befool the understanding in some one point, and leave it sound in the rest; as also to confirm what I did above observe, that Enthusiasts for the most part are intoxicated with vapours from the lowest region of their Body, as the Pythiae of old are conceived to have been inspired through the power of certain exhalations breathed from those caverns they had their recess in. For what means this bold purpose of contriving a new law for plurality of wives amongst Christians, but that his judgement was overclouded by some venereous fumes and vapours? 42. That other kind of Enthusiasm I propounded was Philosophical, because found in such as are of a more speculative and Philosophical complexion; and Melancholy here making them prone to Religion and devotion, as well as to the curious contemplation of things, these natural motions and affections towards God may drive them to a belief that he has a more than ordinary affection towards them, and that they have so special an assistance and guidance from him, nay such a mysterious, but intimate and real union w●th him, that every fine thought or fancy that steals into their mind, they may look upon as a pledge of the Divine savour, and a singular illumination from God; imitating in this the madness of Elionora Meliorina a Gentlewoman of Mantua, who being fully persuaded she was married to a king, would kneel down and talk with him, as if he had been there present with his retinue; and if she had by chance found a piece of glass in a muckhill, light upon an oyster shell, piece of tin or any such like thing that would glister in the Sunshine, she would say it was a jewel sent from her Lord and husband, and upon this account filled her cabinet full of such trash. In like manner those inspired Melancholists stuff their heads and writings with every flaring fancy that Melancholy suggests to them, as if it were a precious Truth bestowed upon them by the holy Spirit, and with a devotional reverence they entertain the unexpected Paroxysmes of their own natural distemper, as if it were the power and presence of God himself in their Souls. 43. This disease many of your Chemists and several Theosophists, in my judgement, seem very obnoxious to, who dictate their own conceits and fancies so magisterially and imperiously as if they were indeed Authentic messengers from God Almighty. But that they are but Counterfeits, that is, Enthusiasts, no infallible illuminated men, the gross fopperies they let drop in their writings will sufficiently demonstrate to all that are not smitten in some measure with the like Lunacy with themselves. I shall instance in some few things concealing the names of the Authors, because they are so sacred to some. 44. Listen therefore attentively, for I shall relate very great mysteries. The virtues of the Planets do not ascend, but descend. Experience teaches as much, viz. That of Venus or Copper is not made Mars or Iron, but of Mars is made Venus, as being an inferior sphere. So also jupiter or Tin is easily changed into Mercury or Quicksilver, because jupiter is the second from the firmament, and Mercury the second from the Earth. Saturn is the first from the heaven, and Luna the first from the Earth. Sol mixeth itself with all, but is never bettered by his Inferiors. Now know that there is a great agreement betwixt Saturn or Led, and Luna or Silver, jupiter and Mercury, Mars and Venus, because in the midst of these Sol is placed. What can it be but the heaving of the Hypochondria that lifts up the mind to such high comparisons from a supposition so false and foolish? But I have observed generally of Chemists and Theosophists, as of several other men more palpably mad, that their thoughts are carried much to Astrology, it being a fancyfull study built upon very sleight grounds, and indeed I do not question, but a relic of the ancient superstition and Idolatry amongst the rude Heathens, which either their own Melancholy, or something worse, instructed them in. There are other pretty conceits in these Writers concerning those heavenly Bodies, as, That the Stars and Planets, the Moon not excepted, are of the same quality with precious stones that glister here on the earth, and that though they act nothing, yet they are of that nature as that the wand'ring Spirits of the air see in them as in a lookingglass things to come, and thereby are enabled to prophecy. That the Stars are made of the Sun, and yet that the Sun enlightens them. That our eyes have their original from the Stars, and that that is the reason why we can see the Stars. That our eyes work or act upon all they see, as well as what they see acts on them. That also is a very special mystery for an inspired man to utter; That there is only Evening and Morning under the Sun. That the Stars kindle heat in this world every where for generation, and that the difference of Stars makes the difference of Creatures. That were the heat of the Sun taken away, he were one light with God. That all is God's self. That a man's self is God, if he live holily. That God is nothing but an hearty Loving, friendly Seeing, good Smelling, well T●sting, kindly Feeling, amorous Kissing, etc. Nor the Spirit, say I, that inspires this mystery any thing but Melancholy and Sanguine. That God the Father is of himself a dale of darkness, were it not for the light of his Son. That God could not quell Lucifer's rebellion, because the battle was not betwixt God and a beast, or God and a man but betwixt God and God, Lucifer being so great a share of his own essence. That Nature is the Body of God, nay God the Father, who is also the World, and whatsoever is any way sensible or perceptible. That the Starre-powers are Nature, and the Starre-circle the mother of all things, from which all is subsists and moves. That the Waters of this world are mad, which makes them rave and run up and down so as they do in the channels of the Earth. That the blue Orb is the waters above the Firmament. That there be two kinds of Fires, the one cold and the other hot, and that Death is a cold fire. That Adam was an Hermaphrodite. That the Fire would not burn, nor there have been any darkness, but for Adam's fall. That it is a very suspicable matter that Saturn before the fall was where Mercury, and Mercury where Saturn is. That there are Three souls in a man, Animal, Angelical, and Divine; and that after Death the Animal Soul is in the grave, the Angelical in Abraham's bosom, and the Divine soul in Paradise. That God has eyes, ears, nose, and other corporeal parts. That every thing has sense, imagination, and a fiducial Knowledge of God in it, Metals, Meteors and Plants not excepted. That this earth at last shall be calcined into Crystal. That at the centre of the earth is the Fire of hell, which is caused and kindled by the Primum mobile and influences of the Stars. That the Arctic pole draws waters by the Axletree, which after they are entered in, break forth again by the Axletree of the Antarctic. That the Moon as well as the Stars are made of a less pure kind of fire mixed with air. That the pure Blood in man answers to the Element of fire in the great world, his heart to the Earth, his Mouth to the Arctic pole, and the opposite Orifice to the Antarctic pole. That the proper seat of the Mind or Understanding is in the mouth of the Stomach or about the Spleen. That Earthquakes and Thunders are not from natural causes, but made by Angels or Devils. That there were no Rainbows before Noah's flood. That the Moon is of a conglaciated substance, having a cold light of her own, whereby the light of the Sun which she receives and casts on us becomes so cool. 45. Hitherto our Collections have been promiscuous, what follows is out of Paracelsus only; as for example: That the variety of the Altitudes of the Sun does not cause Summer and Winter, because the Sun has the same heat, be he higher or lower, but that there be aestival and Hybernall Stars that are the grand causes of these seasons. That the absence of the Sun is not the cause of night, for as much as his light is so great that it may illuminate the earth all over at once as clear as broad day, but that Night is brought on by the influence of dark Stars that ray out darkness and obscurity upon the earth, as the Sun does light. That the Gnomis, Nymphae, Lemures and Penates, Spirits endued with understanding as much or more than Men, are yet wholly mortal, not having so much as an immortal soul in them. That the Stars are as it were the Phials, or Cucurbits, in which the Meteoricall Sal. Sulphur, and Mercury are contained, and that the winds which are made of these, by the Aethereal Vulcan's, are blown forth out of these Emunctories, as when a man blows or breaths out of his mouth. That the Stars are as it were the pots in which the Archaeus or heavenly Vulcan prepares pluvious matter, which exhaled from thence first appears in the form of clouds, after condenses to rain. That Hail and Snow are also the fruits of the Stars, proceeding from them as flowers and blossoms from herbs or trees. That Thunder is caused by the Penates, who taking Aethereal Sulphur, Sal-nitre and Mercury, and putting them into their Aludel, that is their Star, after a sufficient preparation there, the Star than pours them forth into the air, and so they become the matter of Thunder, whose sound is so great and terrible, because it is reechoed from the arched roof of Heaven, as when a Gun is let off under an hollow vault. That the Lightnings without thunder are as it were the deciduous flowers of the aestival Stars. That the Stars eat and are nourished, and therefore must ease themselves, and that those falling Stars, as some call them, which are found on the earth in the form of a trembling jelly are their excrement. That those Meteors called Dracones volantes have a brutish understanding and sense in them. That the Parelii and Paraselenae are made by the Penates as by Artificers, that sergeant the form and shape of a silver Pot in adulterate metal. That all Humane and natural understanding is in the Stars, and conveyed from thence to man, and that he must suck it from thence to feed his soul, as he takes in meat to nourish his body. That the reason of Divination is this, That a man has a sydereall body besides this terrestrial which is joined with the Stars; and so when this sydereall body is more free from the Elements, as in sleep, this body and the Stars confabulating together, the mind is informed of things to come. That the Stars are struck with a terror or horror of the approach of any man's death, whence it is that no man dies without some sign or notice from them, as the dances of dead men, some noise in the house or the like. That as by a divine faith the dead are raised and mountains cast into the midst of the Sea, so by the faith of nature the influence of the Stars, who know all the secrets of nature, is to be commanded, and thereby a man may know naturally what is to come. That Giants, Nymphs, Gnomis and Pigmies were the conceptions and births of the imaginative power of the influence of the Stars upon matter prepared by them, and that they had no souls, as it is most likely the Inhabitants of the more remote parts of the world have none, as not being the offspring of Adam. That a Fowler by the help of his Star need not go after birds, for they will fly after him, and so Fish's swim to the Fisherman, and wild beasts follow the hunter upon the same account of his Stars. That the separation of the three parts of the world, Europe, Asia, Africa, is a certain representation of the three Chemical principles, Sal, Salphure and Mercury, of which three the whole world was made. That there is an artificial way of making an Homunculus, and that the Fairies of the woods, Nymphs and Giants themselves had some such original, and that these Homunculi thus made will know all manner of secrets and mysteries of art, themselves receiving their lives, bodies, flesh, bone, and blood from an artificial principle. 46. These are the rampant and delirious Fancies of that great boaster of Europe Paracelsus, whose unbridled imagination and bold and confident obtrusion of his uncouth and supine inventions upon the world has, I dare say, given occasion to the wildest Philosophical Enthusiasms that ever was broached by any either Christian or Heathen. That last conceit of his some have endeavoured to Allegorise, as the Persians do the Alcoran, ashamed of the gross sense of it, but in my apprehension so frigidly and unsutably, that it would confirm a man the more, that the letter is the intended truth; and if one compare it with what he writes of Nymphs, Giants, and Fairies in his Scientia Astronomica, he will make no further doubt of it. 47. There is some affectation of Religion, I confess, in his writings and far more in his followers, who conceive themselves taught of God, when I plainly discern, their brains are mee●ly heated and infected by this strong spirit of Phantastrie that breathes in Paracelsus his books. I know it is no part of Prudence to speak slightly of those that others admire, but that Prudence is but Craft that commands an unfaithful silence. And I know not how any honest man can discharge his conscience in prudentially conniving at such falsities as he sees ensnare the minds of men, when they do not only abuse their Intellectuals by foppish and ridiculous conceptions, but insinuate such dangerous and mischievous opinions as supplant and destroy the very Fundamentals of Christian Religion. For I appeal to any man, what is nearer to ancient Paganism then what this bold writer has uttered concerning the Stars? or what Sanctuary so safe for the Atheist that derides and eludes all Religion, than such a miraculous influence of the heavens as Paracelsus describes in his Scientia Astronomica? Wherefore I should be very much amazed at the Madness and Inconsistency of him and his followers, who have ever and anon a fling against Heathen Philosophy, when themselves take into their writings the very dregs of it, viz. the gross principles of the ancient Pagan superstition and Idolatry, did I not remember that they are Enthusiasts and follow not the guidance of Reason, but the strength of Fancy. jupiter est quodcunque vides, etc. This taken in the coursest sense, I make no question but it was the grand Principle from whence did flow so many varieties and impurities of the Pagan superstition, they fancying they met God in every object of their senses; and our exorbitant Enthusiasts profess, That every thing is God in love or wrath: Which, if I understand any thing, is no better than Atheism. For it implies that God is nothing else but the Universal Matter of the world, dressed up in several shapes and forms, in sundry properties and qualities; some grateful, some ungrateful; some holy, some profane; some wise, some senseless; some weak, some strong, and the like. But to slice God into so many parts is to wound him and kill him, and to make no God at all. 48. Again, how does Paracelsus justify the Heathens worshipping the Stars, he making them such knowing, powerful, and compassionate spectators of humane affairs! And why might they not pray to them as Anne Bodenham the Witch did to the Planet jupiter for the curing diseases, if they have so much power and knowledge as to generate men here below, and confer gifts upon them? For it would be no more than ask a man's Father or Godfather blessing. For if it be admitted that any one nation is begot by the Stars, the Atheist will assuredly assume that they are all so. Moreover how shall we repair the loss (and damage done to the authority of our blessed Saviour his miracles? whereby not only Christianity, but the first Fundamentals of all true Religion are eminently established, viz. the discovery of a Special and Particular Providence of God; and an hope of a Life to come. For if the Stars can make such living creatures of prepared matter that have sense and understanding, which yet have no immortal souls, but wholly return into dead mater again, why is it not so with men as well as them? And if they can contribute the power of such wonder-working wisdom as was in Moses and in Christ, or what is so very nigh to it, what footsteps does there remain of proof that there is any God or Spirits? For all is thus resolvable into the power of the stars. A thing that that zealous and industrious Atheist Caesar Vaninus triumphs in exceedingly in his Amphitheatrum aeternae Providentiae: Where he citys several Astrological passages out of Cardan under pretence to refute them, in which he fetches the original of those three eminent Lawgivers, Moses, Christ, and Mahomet, from the influence of the stars. The law of Moses is from Saturn, says Cardan, that of Christ from jupiter and Mercury, that of Mahomet from Sol and Mars: The Law of the Idolaters from the Moon and Mars. And in another place Cardan imputes that sweetness, and meekness, and wisdom, and eloquence that was in our Saviour, whereby he was able to dispute in the Temple at twelve years of age, to the influence of jupiter. Pomponatius also acknowledges the wisdom and miracles of Christ, but refers all to the stars, a man as far lapsed into Atheism, I conceive, as Vaninus himself; so that these wild fancies of the Enthusiasts are in truth the chief Props or Shelters that Atheists uphold or defend themselves by. But how fancieful and confounded an account there is of Astrology, let any man that has patience as well as sobriety of reason, judge. 49. I do not speak these things as if I thought either Paracelsus or his followers thus Atheistical, but to show their Phantastrie and Enthusiasm, they so hotly pretending to matters of Christianity and Religion, and yet handling them so grossly and indiscreetly, blurting out any garish foolery that comes into their mind, though it be quite contrary to the Analogy of Faith, nor has any show of ground in solid Reason, only to make themselves to be stared upon and wondered at by the world. But the event of it is, that as some admire them, so others execrate them, as men of an impious and diabolical spirit. Which I confess I think too harsh a censure, well meaning men being liable to Melancholy and Lunacies as well as to Agues and burning Fevers. Yet a man should be so far off from thinking the better of any discovery of Truth by an Enthusiastic spirit, that he should rather for that very cause suspect it, because that temper that makes men Enthusiastical is the greatest enemy to Reason, it being more thick and muddy, and therefore once heated intoxicate them like wine in the must, and is more likely to fill their brains full of odd fancies then with any true notions of Philosophy. But men of a purer blood, and finer spirits, are not so obnoxious to this distemper: For this is the most natural seat of sublimer Reason; when as that more mechanical kind of Genius that loves to be tumbling of and trying tricks with the matter (which they call making experiments) when desire of knowledge has so heated it that it takes upon it to become Architectonical and fly above its sphere, it commits the wildest hallucinations imaginable, that material or corporeal fancy egregiously fumbling in more subtle and spiritual speculations. This is that that commonly makes the Chemist so pitiful a Philosopher, who from the narrow inspection of some few toys in his own art, conceives himself able to give a reason of all things in Divinity and Nature; as ridiculous a project, in my judgement, as that of his that finding a piece of a broken oar on the sand, busied his brains above all measure to contrive it into an entire ship. 50. What I have hitherto spoken, I would have so understood as coming from one that neither contemns the well-meaning of the Theosophist, or disallows of the industry of the Chemist, but I shall ever excuse myself from giving any credit to either, any further than some lusty miracle, transcendent medicine, or solid Reason shall extort from me. 51. We have spoken of the kinds of Enthusiasm so far as we held it serviceable for our design, we shall now touch upon the Cure of this Disease. Where waving all pretence to the knowledge of Physic or acquaintance with the Apothecary's shop, we shall set down only such things as fall under a moral or Theological consideration, giving only instructions for the guidance of a man's life in reference to this grand error of Enthusiasm: which a sober man cannot well determine whether it be more ridiculous, or deplorable and mischievous. Now the most sovereign medicine that I know against it, is this Diatrion or Composition of Three excellent Ingredients, to wit, Temperance, Humility, and Reason, which as I do not despair but that it may recover those that are somewhat far gone in this Enthusiastic distemper, so I am confident, that it will not fail to prevent it in them that are not as yet considerably smitten. 52. By Temperance I understand a measurable Abstinence from all hot or heightening meats or drinks, as also from all venereous pleasures, and tactual delights of the body, from all softness and effeminacy, a constant and peremptory adhesion to the perfectest degree of chastity in the single life, and of Continency in wedlock, that can be attained to. For it is plain in sundry examples of Enthusiasm above named, that the more hidden and lurking fumes of lust had tainted the fancies of those Pretenders to Prophecy and Inspiration. We will add also to these, moderate exercise of Body, and seasonable taking of the fresh air, a due and discreet use of Devotion, whereby the Blood is ventilated and purged from dark oppressing vapours; Which a temperate diet, if not fasting, must also accompany; or else the more hot and zealous our addresses are, the more likely they are to bring mischief upon our own heads, they raising the feculency of our intemperance into those more precious parts of the Body the Brains, and animal Spirits, and so intoxicating the mind with fury and wildness. 53. By Humility I understand an entire Submission to the will of God in all things, a Deadness to all self-excellency and preeminency before others, a perfect Privation of all desire of singularity or attracting of the eyes of men upon a man's own person: As little to relish a man's own praise or glory in the world, as if he had never been born into it; but to be wholly contented with this one thing, that his will is a subduing to the will of God, and that with thankfulness and reverence he doth receive what ever Divine Providence brings upon him; be it sweet or sour, with the hair or against it, it is all one to him, for what he cannot avoid it is the gift of God to the world in order to a greater good. But here I must confess, That he that is thus affected, as he seeks no knowledge to please himself, so he cannot avoid being the most knowing man that is. For he is surrounded with the beams of Divine wisdom as the low depressed Earth with the rays of the stars his deeply and profoundly humbled soul being as it were the Centre of all heavenly illuminations, as this little globe of the Earth is of those celestial influences. I profess I stand amazed while I consider the ineffable advantages of a mind thus submitted to the Divine will, how calm, how comprehensive, how quick and sensible she is, how free, how sagacious, of how tender a touch and judgement she is in all things. When as pride and strong desire ruffles the mind into uneven waves and boisterous fluctuations, that the aeteranl light of Reason concerning either Nature or Life, cannot imprint its perfect and distinct image or character there; nor can so subtle and delicate motions and impressions be sensible to the understanding disturbed and agitated in so violent a storm. That man therefore who has got this Humble frame of Spirit, which is of so mighty concernment for acquiring all manner of wisdom as well Natural as Divine, cannot possibly be so foolish as to be mistaken in that which is the genuine result of a contrary temper, and such is that of Enthusiasm, that puffs up men into an opinion that they have a more than ordinary influence from God that acts upon their Spirits, and that he designs them by special appointment to be new Prophets● new Lawgivers, new david's, new Messiasses, and what not? when it is nothing but the working of the Old man in them in a fanatical manner. 54. By Reason I understand so settled and cautious a Composure of mind, as will suspect every high flown and forward fancy that endeavours to carry away the assent before deliberate examination; she not enduring to be gulled by the vigour or garishness of the representation, nor at all to be born down by the weight or strength of it; but patiently to try it by the known Faculties of the Soul, which are either the Common notions that all men in their wits agree upon, or the Evidence of outward Sense, or else a clear and distinct Deduction from these. What ever is not agreeable to these three, is Fancy, which testifies nothing of the Truth or Existence of any thing, and therefore ought not, nor cannot be assented to by any but mad men or fools. And those that talk so loud of that higher Principle the Spirit with exclusion of these, betray their own ignorance, and while they would by their wild Rhetoric dissuade men from the use of their Rational faculties under pretence of expectation of an higher and more glorious Light, do as madly, in my mind, as if, a company of men travailing by night with links, torches and lanterns, some furious Orator amongst them should by his wonderful strains of Eloquence so befool them into a misconceit of their present condition, comparing of it with the sweet and cheerful splendour of the day, that they should through impatience and indignation beat out their links, and torches and break a pieces their lanterns against the ground, and so choose rather to foot it in the dark with hazard of knocking their noses against the next Tree they meet, and tumbling into the next ditch, then to continue the use of those convenient lights that they had in their sober temper prepared for the safety of their journey. But the Enthusiasts mistake is not only in leaving his present guide before he has a better, but in having a false notion of him he does expect. For assuredly that Spirit of illumination, which resides in the souls of the faithful is a Principle of the purest Reason that is communicable to the humane Nature. And what this Spirit has, he has from Christ (as Christ himself witnesseth) who is the eternal 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the all-comprehending Wisdom and Reason of God, wherein he sees through the natures and Ideas of all things with all their respects of Dependency and Independency, Congruity and Incongruity, or what ever habitude they have one to another, with one continued glance at once. And what ever of Intellectual light is communicated to us is derived from hence, and is in us Particular Reason, or Reason in Succession, or by piecemeal. Nor is there any thing the holy Spirit did ever suggest to any man but it was agreeable to, if not demonstrable from, what we call Reason. And to be thus persuaded, how powerful a Curb it will be upon the exorbitant impressions and motions of Melancholy and Enthusiasm, I leave it to any man to judge. 55. To these three notable and more general Helps, we might add some particular Considerations whereby we may keep off this Enthusiastical pertinacity from ourselves, or discover it when it has taken hold upon others. As for example; If any man shall pretend to the discovery of a Truth by inspiration that is of no good use or consequence to the Church of God, it is to me little less than a Demonstration, that he is Fanatical. If he heaps up Falsehoods as well as Truths, and pretends to be inspired in all, it is to me an evidence he is inspired in none of those mysteries he offers to the world. 56. There are certain advantages also that Enthusiasts have, which are to be taken notice of, whereby they have imposed upon many; as, That they have spoken very raisedly and divinely, which most certainly has happened to sundry persons a little before they have grown stark mad; and that they may hit of something extraordinary is no pledge of the truth of the rest. For this unquiet and tumultuous spirit of melancholy shaking their whole bodily frame, is like an Earthquake to one in a dungeon, which for a small moment makes the very walls gape and cleave, and so lets in light for a while at those chinks; but all closes up again suddenly, and the prisoner is confined to his wont darkness; This therefore was a Chance in nature, not a gracious visit of the Spirit of God. 57 Hereunto you may also join the luck of Prophecy, be it sleeping or waking; for such things have happened to mad men and fools, and Aristotle offers at a pretty reason that may reach both. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. To which he also adds why Extaticall men foresee future things, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. All which intimates thus much, That an alienation of mind and rest from our own motions fits us for a reception of impressions from something else, and so by a quick sense and touch we may be advertised through a communication of motion from the Spirit of the world what is done at a distance, or passe● which turning off again make the Prediction false: For every thing that offers to be, does not come into actual being. Wherefore all these Presages are not 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 but may be only 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, they are the words of Aristotle, but such as some skilful Platonist will most easily explain. All that I aim at is this. That Prophecy may arise from on this side of the pure and infallible Deity, and it is our mistake that we think that what predictions fall out true, are certainly foreknown by the Foreteller. For the present conspiracy of causes that shoot into the vacant mind may corrupt and alter, and be blown away like clouds, that at first seem to assure the husbandman of a following rain. 58. But there is yet a stronger allurement than Prophecy to draw on belief to the Enthusiast, which is a semblance of doing some miracle, as the curing some desperate disease; as it happened very lately in this Nation. For it is very credibly reported, and I think cannot be denied, That one by the stroking of a man's arm that was dead and useless to him, recovered it to life and strength. When I heard of it, and read some few pages of that miraculous Physicians writing, my Judgement was that the cure was natural, but that his blood and spirits were boiled to that height that it would hazard his brain, which proved true; for he was stark mad not very long after. There may be very well a healing and sanative Contagion as well as morbid and venomous. And the Spirits of Melancholy men being more massy, and ponderous, when they are so highly refined and actuated by a more than ordinary heat and vigour of the body, may prove a very powerful Elixir, Nature having outdone the usual pretences of Chemistry in this case. 59 Whatever credit the Enthusiast may conciliate to himself from his moving Eloquence, his mysterious style and unexpected notions, they are easily to be resolved into that principle of Melancholy above named, the sense of which complexion is so deep and vigorous, that it cannot fail to enable the Tongue to tell her story with a great deal of life and affection; and the imagination is so extravagant that it is far easier for her to ramble abroad and fetch in some odd skue conceit from a remote obscure corner, then to think of what is nearer and more ordinarily intelligible. But these things are so fully and plainly comprehended in those General causes of Enthusiasm we have already declared, besides what we have particularly touched upon before, that it will not be worth our labour to insist any longer upon them. When we have satisfied a Scruple or two concerning what we have said of Melancholy and Enthusiasm, I think we shall have omitted nothing materially pertinent to this present Speculation. 60. And the first is, How we can distinguish betwixt Religion and Melancholy, we having attributed so notable effects thereunto. The second is, whether we have not reviled and vilified all Enthusiasm whatsoever, and invited men to a cold Pharisaical stupidity and acting, merely according to an outward letter without an inward testimony of life. The meaning of the first scruple must be restrained to such things as in their externals are laudable and approvable, viz. whether such as they, be out of a Divine or Natural principle, whether from God or Complexion. For in those things that are at their very first view discerned to be culpable, it is plain that they are not from God. I answer therefore, That there are three main discriminations betwixt the Spirit and the most Specious Complexion. The first is, That that Piety or Goodness which is from the Spirit of God is universal, extirpating every vice and omitting nothing that is truly a divine virtue. The second is, A belief of those Holy Oracles comprehended in the Old and New Testament, they being rightly interpreted, and particularly, of that Article, That jesus Christ, even he that died on the cross at jerusalem betwixt two thiefs, is the Son of God, and Sovereign of men and Angels, and that he in his own person shall come again to judge the quick and the dead. The third and last is, An universal Prudence, whereby a man admits nor acts nothing, but what is solidly rational at the bottom, and of which he can give a good account, let the success be what it will. He that finds himself thus affected, may be sure it is the Spirit of God, not the power of Complexion or Nature that rules in him. But this man to others, if they be unbelieving and so rude and unprepared as not to be capable of Reason, he is nothing to them, unless he can do a miracle. How vain then is the Enthusiast that is destitute of both? But those ancient Records of miracles done in the behalf of Christianity, are a sufficient Testimony of the truth of our Religion to those whose hearts are rightly fitted for it. 61. To the Second scruple I answer, That there has not one word all this time been spoken against that true and warrantable Enthusiasm of devout and holy souls, who are so strangely transported in that vehement love they bear towards God, and that unexpressible Joy and Peace they find in him. For they are modest enough and sober in all this, they witnessing no other thing to the world then what others may experience in themselves, and what is plainly set down in the holy Scriptures, That the kingdom of God is Righteousness and Peace and Joy in the Holy-Ghost. But in none of these things do they pretend to equalise themselves to Christ, whom God has exalted above men and Angels, but do profess the efficacy of his Spirit in them to the praise and glory of God, and the comfort and encouragement of their drooping Neighbour. But what is above this, without evident Reason or a Miracle, is most justly deemed to proceed from no supernatural assistance but from some hypochondriacal distemper. 62. Moreover for these Rapturous and enthusiastical affections even in them that are truly good and pious, it cannot be denied but that the fuel of them is usually natural o●●●ntracted Melancholy, which any man may perceive that is religious, unless his Soul and Body be blended together, and there be a confusion of all; as it is in mistaken Enthusiasts, that impute that to God which is proper to Nature. But Melancholy usually disposes, and the mind perfects the action through the power of the Spirit. And a wise and holy man knows how to make use of his opportunity according to that Monition of the Apostle, If a man be sad, let him pray; if cheerful, let him sing Psalms. 63. But there is also a peculiar advantage in Melancholy for divine speculations; and yet the mysteries that result from thence, are no more to be suspected of proving mere fancies, because they may occasionally spring from such a constitution, then Mathematical Truths are, who owe their birth to a Mathematical complexion; Which is as truly a complexion as the Religious complexion is; and yet no sober man will deny the truth of her Theorems. And as it would be a fond and improper thing to affirm that such a complexion teaches a man Mathematics, so it would also be to affirm that Melancholy is the only mother of Religion. 64. But most certain it is and observation will make it good, That the souls of men while they are in these mortal bodies are as so many Prisoners immured in several prisons with their fingle loopholes looking into several quarters, and therefore are able to pronounce no further than their proper prospect will give them leave. So the several Complexions of men's bodies dispose or invite them to an easy and happy discovery of some things, when yet notwithstanding if you confer with them concerning other some that lie not within their prospect or the limits of their natural Genius, they will be enf●●●ed either to acknowledge their ignorance, or if they will take upon them to judge (which is the more frequent) they will abundantly discover their error and mistake. Which sometimes seems so gross and invincible that a man may justly suspect that they want not only the patience but even the power of contemplating of some objects, as being not able to frame any conception of what they are required to think of; and such are the duller sort of Atheists that rank the notion of a Spirit and consequently of a God in the list of Inconsistencies and ridiculous Nonsense. Wherein though they seek to reproach Religion, they seem to me mainly to shame themselves, their Atheism being very easy to be paralleled with Enthusiasm in this regard. For as some Enthusiasts being found plainly mad in some one thing, have approved themselves sober enough in the rest; so these Atheists though they show a tolerable wit and acuteness in other matters, yet approve themselves sufficiently slow and heavy in this. FINIS. OBSERVATIONS UPON Anthroposophia Theomagica, And Anima Magica Abscondita. By ALAZONOMASTIX PHILALETHES. Psalm. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wit's end. LONDON, Printed by I. Flesher. 1655. To Eugenius Philalethes the Author of Anthroposophia Theomagica, and Anima Magica Abscondita. SIR, THE Great deserved fame that followed this noble work of yours (the due recompense of all eminent performances) engaged me to peruse the same, with much eagerness of mind, and yet with no less attention; I being one of those, that profess themselves much more willing to learn, then able to teach. And that you may see some specimen of the fruits of your labour and my proficiency, I thought fit to present you with these few Observations. Which, considering the barrenness of the Matrix, (as you Chemists love to call it) in which they were conceived, may be termed rather many than few: And that imputed to the alone virtue, or Magical Multiplication, or Theomagical fecundity of your Divine Writings, not at all to the sterility of my disfurnished Brain. Which now notwithstanding, having gathered both warmth and moisture from the heat and luxuriancy of your youthful fancy, finds itself after a manner transformed into your own complexion, and translated into the same temper with yourself. In so much that although I cannot with the height of a protestation in the presence of my glorious God (as yourself has gallantly done (in pag. 50. lin. 17. of Anthropos. Theomag.) affirm that the affection and zeal to the truth of my Creator has forced me to write, yet I dare profess in the word of an honest man, that nothing but an inplacable enmity to immorality and foolery has moved me at this time to set Pen to Paper. And I confess my indignation is kindled the more, having so long observed that this disease is grown even Epidemical in our Nation. viz. to desire to be filled with high-swollen words of Vanity, rather than to feed on sober Truth, and to heat and warm ourselves rather by preposterous and fortuitous imaginations, then to move cautiously in the light of a purified mind and improved Reason. Wherefore I being heightened with the same Zeal of discountenancing of Vanity and conceitedness, that yourself is of promoting the Truth, you will permit to me the same freedom in the prosecution thereof. For as we are grown near akin in temper and complexion, so we ought mutually to allow each other in our Actings alike, according to our common Temper and Nature, and the accustomed Liberty of the Philalethean Family. In confidence whereof till we meet again in the next Page, I take leave and subscribe myself, A Chip of the same Block Alazonomastix Philalethes. Observations upon Anthroposophia Theomagica, and Anima Magica Abscondita. SECT. I. Eugenius taxed of vain glory. Three main ways he attempts to approve himself an extraordinary knowing man to the world. His affectation of seeming a Magician discovered in his so highly magnifying Agrippa, in the dress of his Title-page, and his submissive address to the Rosie-brotherhood. His indiscreet exprobration of ignorance to the Aristoteleans for not knowing the very essence or substance of the Soul. His uncivil calling Aristotle an Ape, and ignorant taxation of his School concerning the frame of the world. The disproportionable Delineation of Eugenius his World-Animal; and his unjust railing against Aristotle's writings, which he uncivilly terms his Vomit. ANd now brother Philalethes, that we are so well met, let us begin to act according to the freeness of our tempers, and play the Tom Tell-truths. And you indeed have done your part already. My course is next. Which must be spent in the Observations I told you of, upon those profound Treatises of yours, Anthroposophia Theomagica, and Anima Magica Abscondita. And my first and general Observation is this, That the genius of my brother Eugenies magical Discourse is such, that Simon Magus-like, he seems to have a very liquoursome desire to be thought to be 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, some great man in the World. And for the prosecution of this main end, he lays himself out chiefly in these three subordinate designs. First, to be thought to have found out some new concerning Truths, hitherto undiscovered. Secondly, to be more learned & knowing then Aristotle, that great light of these European parts, for these many hundred years together: and not only so, but to be so far above him, that he may be his Master, that he may tew him, and lug him, and lash him more cruelly, than any Orbilius or choleric Pedagogue, his puny scholars. Thirdly and lastly, that he may strike home for the getting of a fame of profound learning indeed, he does most affectedly and industriously raise in the Reader a strong surmise and suspicion that he is very deeply seen in Art Magic, and is a very knowing Disciple of Agrippa, and puts in as far for the name of a Magician, as honesty will permit, and safety from that troublesome fellow Hopkins the Witchfinder. And indeed the very clatter of the Title of his Book, Anthroposophia Theomagica, sounds not much unlike some conjuration, or charm, that would either call up, or scare away the Devil. And Zoroaster forsooth, at the bottom of the page, that old reputed Magician, must stand as an Assistant to this preludiall Exorcism; with this Oracle in his mouth, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Audi ignis vocem. That is in plain English, Hear the voice or noise of fire. Me thinks I smell a Gunpowder-plot. What can this voice of fire be? Why! how now Anthroposophus! you intent certainly to make the Rosy Brotherhood merry with squibs and crackers. For certainly your mysteriousness does not mean those lesser or greater fire-squirts, Carbines or Cannons. So might the Fratres R. C. be received with like solemnity that those Apostles at Rome, the Cardinals. But the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, (which implies a subsultation, or skipping this way and that way) which is in the context of this Oracle, seems to allude to, and prognosticate of, Fire-crackers and Squibs rather than Cannons or Carbines. But how ever if this dogtrick fail, Anthroposophus has another as puerile and innocent a Present, to entertain that Reverend Fraternity: And that's a very quaint and trim Latin Epistle, which he, like a good Schoolboy, to show them what a good Proficient he is grown in his Latin Grammar, presents to their assembled Gravities. 'Tis a good child, Anthroposophus! and 'tis well done. Qui nescit obedire, nescit imperare. He that knows not how to submit himself in the form of a breeching boy to the Fratres R. C. how can he know so unmercifully to whip and domineer over poor Aristotle? Surely, Anthroposophus! when the Rosy brethren ride swooping through the Air in their theomagical chariots, they will hail down sugar plums, and Carua's on thy blessed pate, if thou hast but the good hap at that time to walk abroad with thy hat off, to cool thy heated noddle. But stay a while, I am afraid I am mistaken. It may well be, that Anthroposophus rides along with them, as being the Prolocutor of their Assembly. For he writes himself Oratoris vestri. How can that belong to a short Epistle, unless it were some Title of office? But it may be my Gentleman, being not so dextrous and quick in Latin as in English, measured the length of it more by his labour then the lines, and thought that that which took him so much pains, could not prove so little as an Epistle; and therefore would insinuate that it was an Oration made to the Fratres R. C. I suppose at their meeting at Friar Bacon's brazen head in Oxford. Well ● be it what it will be, my observation here, Anthroposophus, is, that you would also by your address to the Fratres R. C. make the world bel●eve, that you are now mellowing a pace, and are not much unripe for admission into that Society. And then Anthroposophus would be a rare Theomagician indeed. But enough of this vein of mirth and levity. Now Philalethes! your brother Tel-troth, intends to fall more closely on your bones, and to discover whether you have not a greater mind to seem to be wise then to be so indeed, or to make others so. But yet you may assure yourself, I will only find flaws, not make any in you; but rather candidly pass over what may receive any tolerably good interpretation, nor touch the sore any where, but where I may hope to heal it, either in yourself or others. And that this may be done without any tedious taking a pieces of what you have put together, I shall fairly pass from page to page without any analytical Artifice. And truly from the First page to the middle of the Fourth page of your Epistle to the Reader, there be many pretty, smart, elegant, humourous contextures of phrases and things. But there, presently after Friar Bacon's Fool and his fellow, you fall upon our Peripatetics as such superficial Philosophasters, because they cannot lay open to you the very essence of the Soul. Why! Anthroposophus! can you tell the very essence of any Substantial thing? Hereby you show yourself very raw & unexercised in meditation, in that you have not yet taken notice what things are knowable, what not. And thus may you have as ill a trick put upon you, for want of this discerning, as the old dim and doting woman had, that with her rotten teeth endeavoured to crack a round pebble stone in stead of a nut, which was a thing impossible. Nor will any man's understanding, be it as sharp as it will, enter the bare essence of any thing. But the nearest we can get, is, to know the powers, and operations, the respects, and fitnesses that things have in themselves, or toward others. Which is so true, that any man in a little search, will presently satisfy himself in the evidence thereof. From the middle of this Fourth page to the middle of the sixth, is continued a dance of Antics, or various ridiculous shift and postures of phansie● to make Aristotle and his followers contemptible. But such general rail, as they are mis-beseeming the Writer, so they teach the Reader nothing but that the Author of them is a Mome, or a Mimic, and more like an Ape by far then him that he compares to one. If this man clap the wings so when he has really got the foil, (for hitherto he has charged Aristotle with no particular piece of ignorance but of what is impossible to be known) what would he do if he h●d the victory? The second particular taxation (for generals I hold nothing, Dolosus ambulat in universalibus) is that the Peripatetics fancy God to have made the World, as a Carpenter of stone and timber. But this is false, because they give an inward principle of motion to all natural bodies, and there is one continuity of all, as much as of the parts of water among themselves. But their grand fault is that they do not say the World is Animate. But is not yours far greater, Anthroposophus! that gives so ridiculous unproportionable account of that Tenet? The whole World is an Animal, say you, whose flesh is the earth, whose blood is the water, the air the outward refreshing spirit in which it breath●, the interstellar skies his vital waters, the Stars his sensitive fire. But are not you a mere Animal yourself to say so? For it is as irrational and incredible, as if you should tell us a tale of a Beast, whose blood and flesh put together, bears not so great a proportion to the rest of the more fluid parts of the Animal, suppose his vital and animal spirits, as a mite in a cheese to the whole globe of the earth. And beside this, how shall this water which you call blood, be refreshed by the air that is warmer than it? And then those waters which you place in the outmost parts towards his dappled or spotted skin the coelum stellatum, what over-p●oportionated plenty of them is there there? In so much that this creature you make a diseased Animal from its first birth, and ever labouring with an Anasarca. Lastly, how unproperly is the air said to be the outward refreshing spirit of this Animal, when it is ever in the very midst of it? And how rashly is the Flux and Reflux of the Sea assimilated to the pulse, when the pulse is from the heart, not the brain; but the flux and reflux of the Sea from the Moon not the Sun, which they that be more discreetly fantastical than yourself, do call Cor Mundi. Wherefore, Anthroposophus! your fancies to sober men, will seem as vain and puerile, as those of idle children that imagine the fortuitous postures of spaul and snivel on plaster-walls, to bear the form of men's or dog's faces, or of Lions, and what not? And yet see the supine stupidity and senselessness of this man's judgement, that he triumphs so in this figment of his as so rare and excellent a truth, that Aristotle's Philosophy must be groundless superstition and Popery in respect of it, this the primevall truth of the creation; when as it is a thousand times more froth, than His is vomit. My friend Anthroposophus! is this to appear for the truth (as you profess) in a day of necessity? Certainly she'll be well holp at a dead lift, if she find no better champions than yourself. Verily Philalethes, if you be no better in your Book then in your Preface to the Reader, you have abused Moses his Text beyond measure. For your Principles will have neither heaven nor earth in them, head nor foot, reason nor sense. They will be things extra intellectum, and extra sensum, mere vagrant imaginations seated in your own subsultorious & skip-jack fancy only. But what they are we shall now begin to examine, according to the number of pages. Anthroposophia Theomagica. SECT. II. 1. Mastix makes himself merry with Eugenius his rash assertion, that all Souls at their entrance into the body have an explicit knowledge of things. 22. And that after a whole Spring's experience he had found out those two known principles of Aristotle, Matter, and Privation. His absurd hope of seeing Substances. 3. The vanity of Devotion without purification of the mind. That Aristotle agrees with Moses in acknowledging the World to be framed by a knowing Principle, 4. Life always accompanied with a natural warmth. 5. Eugenius his fond mistake, as if either the Divine Light or Ideas could be kept out any space of time from shining in the opakest matter. 6. The little fruit of that rarity of Doctor Marci in making the figure of a Plant suddenly rise up in a glass. 7. Eugenius his natural Idea (which he affirms to be a subtle invisible fire) no Idea at all. 8. His vain boasting of himself as if he were more knowing and communicative than any that has wrote before him. 9 His terming the Darkness or the first Matter the fuliginous spawn of Nature. 10. His inconstancy in creating and uncreating this Matter. 11. The horrible confused Qualm he fancies in the moist Matter at the creation of the world, Heat and Siceitie the two active qualities in the Principle of Light assisting by their Midwifery. Observation 1. Pag. 2. l. 11. So have all souls before their entrance, etc. But hear you me Mr. Anthroposophus! are you in good earnest that all Souls before their entrance into the body have an explicit methodical knowledge? and would you venture to lose your wit so much by imprisoning yourself in so dark a dungeon, as to be able to write no better sense in your Preface to the Reader? But I'll excuse him, it may be he was riding before his entrance into the body on some theomagical jade or other, that stumbled and flung him into a mystical quagmire against his will, where he was so soused and doused and bedaubed and dirtyed, face and eyes and all, that he could never, since the midwife raked him out all wet and dropping like a drowned mouse, once see clearly what was sense and what nonsense to this very day. Wherefore we will set the saddle on the right Horse; and his Theomagick Nag shall bear the blame of the miscarriage. Observation 2. Pag. 3. Lin. 3. I took to task the fruits of one Spring, etc. Here Anthroposophus is turned Herbalist for one whole Spring, damned to the grass, and fields like Nabuchadnezzar when he went on all four among the Beasts. But see how slow this Snail amongst the herbs is, in finding out the truth; when he confesses it was the work of one whole Spring to find out, That the Earth or seeds of flowers are nothing like the flowers. There's not any old Garden-weeder in all London, but without a pair of spectacles will discover that in four minutes, which he has been a full fourth part of a year about. But certainly, he intends a great deal of pomp and ceremony, that will not take up such a Conclusion as this, (viz. That things that are produced in Nature, are out of something in Nature which is not like the things produced) but upon the full experience and meditation of one entire Spring. And now after this whole Spring's meditation and experience, he is forced to turn about to him whom he so disdainfully flies, and confess two of the three principles of the Aristotelean Physics. viz. Mat●er and Privation, that homo is ex non homine, arbour ex non arbore, etc. But this Matter, he says, (and it is the wisest word he has spoken yet) he knows not what it is. But presently blots his credit again with a new piece of folly, intimating he will find it out by experience. Which is as good sense as if he should say, he would see it when his eyes are out. For it is alike easy to see visibles without eyes, as to see invisibles with eyes. But he flies off hence, and is in quest after a Substance, which he smells out like a nosegay in Nature's bosom; which Substance he hopes to see by Art. Why! Eugenius, are you so sharp sighted that you can see Substances? A kind of Philosophic Hog, he can see the wind too I warrant you. But how can you hope to see that Substance, when Nature only exposes it, as you say, to her own vital celestial breath? And tell what this Breath is, and do not amaze us with strange words, or else keep your breath to yourself to cool your pottage. Observation 3. Pag. 4. Here a fit of devotion has taken him, and I am neither so irreligious nor uncivil as to interrupt him. But now Sir you have done, I hope it will not be any offence to address my discourse to you again. And it will not be unseasonable to tell you, that Truth is not to be had of God Almighty for an old song, no nor yet for a new one. And that no man is to measure his wisdom by his devotion, but by his humility and purity of mind and unprejudicate reason; nor that any man is wiser by making others seem more contemptibly foolish, as your juvenility has thought good to deal with poor Aristotle & his Orthodox Disciples all this time. Nay, and that you may not take Sanctuary at Moses his Text, let me also tell you, that before you prove any thing thence, you ought first to make good, that Scripture is intended for natural Philosophy as well as a divine life. But we need not arm ourselves so well yet; for from the fourth page to the eight page nothing is said, but that God from a knowing Principle made the World. Which Aristotle also seems to assert, while he is so frequent in telling the ends of natural things, which could not be sense, unless he supposed that Nature was guided by a knowing Principle, which is to acknowledge a God after the best manner. And that subtle Philosopher julius Scaliger uses no contemptible arguments to prove, that Aristotle's Philosophy furnisheth us also with the knowledge of a Trinity in God, so that Anthroposophus is very unkind and uncivil to so good a Master. Observation 4. Pages 8. and 9 What an Aristotelean would dispatch in a word or two, viz. that Life is always accompanied with a natural warmth, he is mysteriously fumbling out and drayling on to the length of almost two whole pages. Observation 5. Pag. 9 Lin. 10. The divine light pierced the bosom of the matter, etc. This compared with what is at the bottom of the fourth page, we see that this rare philosopher tells us, that the Matter is an horrible empty darkness. And me thinks his description is an hideous empty fancy, and conveys not so much to the understanding as Aristotle's description of the Matter, which he would describe to be, The first subject out of which every thing is. This latter is more clean and sober, the other more slabby and fantastical. And to call it Primitive waters is but yet metaphors and poetry: For you do not mean waters such as we wash our hands in. But they must be waters and dark, that you may bring in the conceit of the light shining in them, that like as in rivers and pools the images of trees & birds, and clouds and stars, and what not, may be seen in them. And this must help us to conceive, that upon the breaking through of the light, the divine Ideas shone in the waters, and that the holy Spirit, not being able to see till then, by looking then upon those images, framed the matter into form. But I pray you tell me, Mr. Anthroposophus! that would be so wise as if you stood by while God made the World, do not you think that God can now see in the dark, or behold his own Ideas in the depth of the Earth? You'll say you do not mean this Natural light but a divine light. If so, was ever the matter so st●ff and clammy dark, as to be able to keep it out? So that the divine Ideas shone in the Water so soon as God was, and the Spiritus Opifex could see to begin his work ab omni retro aeternitate. And it could never be dark in your blind sense. Is it not so Anthroposophus? Observation 6. Lin. 25. Si plantam quasi momento nas●i, etc. If Anthroposophus had such a device as this in a glass, what a fine gew-gaw would it be for the lad? What fine sport would he make with his companions? He would make them believe then that he was a Conjurer indeed. But what other use there would be of it, Anthroposophus! truly I do not know. For it would not state one controversy in Philosophy more than what may be done without it. For whether there be any such things as rationes seminales, or whether these forms visible arise from heat, which is motion, and the conspiracy of fitted particles, is as well and safely determined from your experiments of one spring, as from this strange whim-wham in a glass. But weak stomaches and weak wits long most after rarities. Observation 7. Pag. 10. Lin. 4. Twofold Idea, divine, natural, etc. Anthroposophus! Your natural Idea, is but an idea of your own brain. For it is no more an idea than a sheath is a knife, or the spittle that wets the seal is the seal● or the grease the saw, or the water the Grindlestone. But you must strike betwixt this and the divine Idea, or else you will miss of your natural one. And so will be forced to do that of penury, which he did of choice and for brevity sake, divide your Text into one part. But your quotation of Moses here near the bottom of the page, is either nothing to your natural Idea, or if you mean it of the divine, is no new notion, but nimmed out of Philo the jew. And yet in the beginning of the following page you magnify yourself, as one that concerning this primitive supernatural part of the Creation as you call it, though you have not said so much as you can say by far, (as being a Nip-crust or Niggard of your precious speculations) yet you have produced not a little new. Observation 8. Pag. 11. Lin. 5. Some Authors, etc. And the reason why the world is beholding to this Gentleman more than to any for new discoveries of mighty truths, is, that whereas some Authors have not searched so deeply into the Centre of Nature, and others not willing to publish such spiritual mysteries, this new Writer is the only man, that is both deeply seen into the Centre of Nature, and as willing also to publish these spiritual mysteries. So that he goes beyond them all. O brave Anthroposophus! What a fine man would you fain appear to the World. In the residue of this page, Anthroposophus his fancy is pudled so and jumbled in the Limbus or Huddle of the Matter, that he cannot distinguish betwixt God and the Creature; For he knows not whether the Chaos be created or uncreated. How much wiser are you now then Aristotle, Mr. Eugenius! that made the world Eternal? If you can admit this; by the rule of proportion you might swallow the greatest Gudgeon in Aristotle without kecking or straining. Observation 9 Pag. 12. Lin. 11. Fuliginous spawn of Nature. A rare expression! This Magicician has turned Nature into a Fish by his Art. Surely such dreams float in his swimmering Brains as in the Prophets, who tells us so Authentic stories of his delicious Albebut. Observation 10. Lin. 12. The created Matter. Before the Matter was in an hazard of not being created, but of being of itself eternal. Certainly Eugenius! you abound with leisure that can thus create and uncreate, do and undo because the day is long enough. Observation 11. Lin. 21. A horrible confused qualm, etc. Here Nature like a childbearing woman has a qualm comes over her stomach, and Eugenius like a man-midwife stands by very officiously to see what will become of it. Let her alone, Eugenius! it is but a qualm, some cold raw rheum. Margaret will escape wel● enough. Especially if her two Handmaids Heat and Siccity, which you mention, do but help with their Aquavitae bottles. What a rare mode or way of Creation has Eugenius set out? Certainly it cannot but satisfy any unreasonable man, if there be any men without reason; and I begin to suspect there is, for Eugenius his sake, such as feed as savourly on the pure milk of fancy, as the Philosopher's Ass on Sowthistles. SECT. III. 12. He asserts, that there was a vast portion of light in the Extract from the Chaos which surrounded the whole earth. 13. He compares Ptolemees Heavens to a rumbling confused Labyrinth. 14. He calls the Firmament Cribrum Naturae. 15. Affirms that the light before the fourth day equally possessed the whole creation. 16. That the Night peeps out like a baffled Giant when the Sun is down. 17. That the shadow of the Earth is Nature's black bag. 18. He prays to be delivered from the dark Tincture which at last by the Protochymist shall be expelled beyond the Creation. 19 He allows only two Elements, Earth and Water. ●0. He speaks of Water and Fire (which is Apuleius his Psyche and Cupid) of their bedding together. 21. Cites an obscure Aphorism out of Sendivow. 22. Affirms that the Air is the Magicians ba●k door. 23. And our animal Oil the fuel of the vital and sensual fire in us. Observation 12. Pag. 13. THis page is spent in extracting from the Chaos●, a thin spiritual celestial substance to make the Caelum Empyreum of, and the Body of Angels, and by the by, to be in stead of a Sun for the first day. But then in the second Extraction was extracted the agile air filling all betwixt the Mass and the Coelum Empyreum. But here I have so hedged you in Mr. Anthroposophus, that you will hardly extricate yourself in this question. The Empyreal substance encompassing all● how could there be Morning and Evening till the fourth day? for the mass was alike illuminated round about at once. And for your interstellar water you do but fancy it employed in Moses text, & can never prove that he drives at any thing higher in the letter thereof, than those hanging bottles of water, the clouds. Observation 13. Pag. 14. Lin. 12. A rumbling confused Labyrinth. 'Tis only Erratum Typographicum. I suppose you mean, a rumbling Wheel-barrow; in allusion to your Wheelwork and Epicycles aforementioned. But why small diminutive Epicycles? Eugenius! you are so profound a Magician, that you are no Astronomer at all. The bigness of them is as strong a presumption against them as any thing: they are too big to be true. Observation 14. Lin. 26. This is Cribrum Naturae. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, I warrant you. The very sieve that jupiter himself pisses through, as Aristophanes sport's it in his Comedies. Observation 15. Pag. 15. Lin. 20. Equally possessed the whole Creature. Therefore again I ask thee, O Eugenius! how could there be Evening and Morning, the light being all over equally dispersed? Observation 16. Lin. 29. Like a baffled Giant. Poetical Eugenius! Is this to ●ay the sober and sound principles of Truth and Philosophy? Observation 17. Pag. 16. Lin. 1. A Black Bag. I tell thee Eugenius! Thy fancy is snapped in this female Black-bag, as an unwary Retiarius in a Net. Does Madam Nature wear her Black-bag in her middle parts? (for the Earth is the Centre of the World) or on her head as other matrons do? That Philalethes may seem a great and profound Student indeed, he will not take notice whether a black-bag be furniture for Lady's heads or their haunches: Well! let him enjoy the glory of his affected rusticity and ignorance. Observation 18. Lin. 5. Good Lord deliver us. How the man is frighted into devotion by the smut and griminesse of his own imagination. Observation 19 Lin. 15. Earth and water, etc. Concurrunt element a ut Materia, ergo duo sufficiunt, says Cardan. ●Tis no new-sprung truth, if true, Mr. Eugenius! But seeing that AEthereal vigour and celestial heat with the substance thereof, (For coelum pervadit omnia) is in all things, and the air excluded from few or no living Creatures, if we would severely tug with you, Mr. Anthroposophus! you will endanger the taking of the foil. Observation 20. Pag. 18. Lin. 22. Both in the same bed. Why did you ever sneak in Eugenius, and take them, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, in the very act? 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as the Lawyers speak? This is but poetical pomp in prose. And Ovid Philosophizes better in verse, where speaking of heat and moisture, he expresses himself apertly and significantly. Quip ubi temperiem sumpsere humorque calorque Concipiunt, & ab his generantur cuncta duobus. Observation 21. Lin. 27. Spiritus aquae invisibilis congelatus melior est quam terra Vniversa. Now as you are Philalethes, tell me truly if you understand any determinate and useful sense of this saying. If you do, why do you not explain it? if you do not, for ought you know, it may be only a charm to fox fishes. And I pray you, Philalethes! make trial of the experiment. Observation 22. Pag. 19 Lin. 29. It is the Magician's Backdoor. Here I cannot but take notice at the great affectation of Philalethes to appear to be deeply seen in Magic. But I suppose if he were well searched, he would be found no Witch, nor all his Backdoor of air worth the wind of an ordinary man's backdoor. Observation 23. Pag. 20. Lin. 2. The air is our Animal oil, the fuel of the vital. Now Eugenius! you are so good natured as to give Aristotle one of his two elements again, that you wrested from him. If this be our animal oil, and fuel of the vital, it is plain our animal and vital spirits are from the air, and that the air is one element amongst the rest. And your moist silent Fire that passes through all things, must be a principle of all things, and may be well attempered heat to your forenamed oil. So that Aristotle and you that before seemed as disagreeing as fire and water, now in a love-fit again embrace as close as your Apuleius his Psyche and Cupid. But why will you be thus humorous Mr. Eugenius! and be thus off and on to the trouble of others and yourself? SECT. IV. 24. Eugenius having finished his general exposition of the World, Mastix gives an account of it, shows the contradiction in it, discovers the vanity of drawing the letter of the Scripture to a rigid Philosophical meaning. 25. Eugenius his ill manner of laying down the Fundamentals of Sciences, 26. His celestial Earth, Magnet, or jacob's Ladder. 27. His little Suns and Moons in every Compound of Nature that are Mimulae majoris animalis, and wantonly imitate the two great Luminaries of the World. 28. His enigmatical Receipt of the Medicine or Philosopher's stone. 29. His fixing of the Earth into a pure Diaphanous Substance. 30. His praetension of explaining the Nature of Man. 31. His censure of all that know not the earth Adam was made out of (which is the Philosophical Medicine) as Quacks and Pisspot Doctors. 32. His two portions the Soul consists of, Ruach and Nephesh 33. And how the Angels scorning to ●t●end Adam according as they were commanded, contrived to supplant him. Observation 24. Pag. 21. l. 9. PErformed an exposition of the World. An excellent performance! Which if a man take● a narrow view of he will find to amount to no more than this, That God made a dark Mass of Matter, out of which he extracted, (Chymist-like) first an Empyreal body, ●hen an aereal, etc. Which is a very lank satisfaction to the noble reason of man. Nay, Anthroposophus! I believe you have spoke such stuff that will amount to little better than a contradiction ●o free reason. For you make as if the Mass did contain in a far l●sse compass above all measure, all that was after extracted. Wherefore there was, (for these are all bodies) either a penetration of dimensions then, or else a vacuum now: & the ascending particles of the Mass lie some distance one from another. Besides I observe that in you, that I do in all others, that fantastically and superstitiously force Philosophy out of the sacred Writ (which is intended certainly for better purposes). For as Ovid in his Metamorphoses, after a long pursuit of a Fabulous story, at last descends to something in Nature and common use, (as that of Daphne turned into a Laurel, which tree is in Nature and according to the accustomary conceit of the Heathens was holy to Apollo) so these running a Wild-Goose chase of Melancholy imaginations and fancies, think it evidence enough for what they have said, to have the thing but named in some Text of Scripture. Nay even those that are so confident they are inspired, and live of nothing but the free breathe of the Divine Spirit; if you observe them, it is with them as with the Lark, that is so high in the air, that we may better hear her then see her, as if she were an inhabitant of that Region only and had no alliance to the Earth, yet at last you shall see her come down and pi●k on the ground as other birds. So these pretended inspired men though they fly high, and seem to feed of nothing but free truth, as they draw it from Gods own breathing; yet they took their ground first from the Text, though they ran a deal of fancyfull division upon it; and if a man watch them, he shall find them ●all flat upon the Text again, and be but as other Mortals are for all their free praetensions and extraordinary assistances. But let us leave these Theosophists (as they love to be called) to themselves, and trace on the steps of our Anthro posophus! Observation 25. Pag. 22. He exhorts us in the foregoing page to be curious & diligent in this subsequent part of his discourse, as being now about to deliver the Fundamentals of Science. But Anthroposophus! you are so deeply Magical that you have conjured yourself down, below the wit of an ordinary man. The Fundamentals of Science should be certain, plain, real and perspicuous to reason; not muddy and imaginary as all your discourse is from this to your 28 page. For in this present page & the former, setting aside your superstitious affectation of Trinities & Triplicities, which teach a man nothing but that you are a very fantastical and bold man, and lift at that which is too heavy for you; you do nothing but scold very cholerickly at the Colliers and Kitchen-maids, and like a dog return again to the Vomit, I mean that vomit you cast a while ago on Aristotle. Is that so elegant an expression that you must use it twice in so little a space? where is your manners Anthroposophus! Observation 26. Pag. 23. Lin. 14. and 24. The Magnet, the Mystery of Union, Not one of ten thousand knows the substance or the use of this Nature. Yet you tell it us in this page, that it will attract all things Physical or Metaphysical, at what distance soever. But you are a man of ten thousand, Anthroposophus! and have the Mystery, questionless, of this Magnet. Whence I conclude you King or Prince of the Gypsies, as being able at the farthest distance to attract metal out of men's purses. But take heed that you be not discovered, lest this Jacob's Ladder raise you up with your fellow Pickpockets to Heaven in a string. Observation 27. Pag. 24. This page is filled with like Gipsy gibberish, as also the 25th. yet he pretends to lend us a little light from the Sun and Moon. Which he calls the great Luminaries and Conservators of the great World in general. How great, Anthroposophus! do you think would the Moon appear if your Magic could remove you but as far as Saturn from her? will she not appear as little as nothing? Besides, if Eugenius ever tooted through a Galileo's Tube, he might discover four Moons about jupiter, which will all prove competitors with our Moon for the Conservatour-ship of the Universe. But though Eugenius admits of but one great broad-faced Sun and Moon, yet he acknowledgeth many Mimulae or Monky-faced Suns and Moons, which must be the Conservatriculae of the many Microcosmes in the great World. Certainly Anthroposophus! the speculum of your understanding is cracked, and every fragment gives a several reflection, and hence is this innumerable multitude of these little diminutive Suns and Moons. But having passed through much canting language, at the bottom of the page we at last stumble on the Philosopher's Stone, which he intends I suppose to fling at Aristotle and brain the Stagirite at one throw. Observation 28. Lin. ult. A true Receipt of the Medicine, R. Limi coelestis parts, etc. Come out Tom-Fool from behind the hangings, that peaks out with your Devil's head and horns, and put off your vizard, and be aper● and intelligible, or else why do you pretend to lay the Fundamentals of Science, and crave our diligence and attention to a non-significant noise and buzz? Unless you will be understood; it may as well, for aught any body knows, be a plaster for a galled horses back, or a Medicine for a Mad-dog, as a receipt of the Philosopher's Stone. Observation 29. Pag. 27. In this page Magicus prophesies of a vitrification of the Earth, and turning of it into a pure diaphanous substance. To what end? Magicus! That the Saints and Angels at each pole of the Earth may play at Boe-peep with one another through this crystallized Globe? Magicus has rare imaginations in his noddle. Observation 30. Pag. 28. At the end of this page Magicus begins to take to task the explication of man's nature. But Magicus you must first learn better to know yourself, before you attempt to explain the knowledge of man to others. Observation 31. Pag. 29. Lin. 10. The Philosophical Medicine. This is the Philosopher's stone. And they that are ignorant in this point are but Quacks and Pisspot Doctors. Ho! Dr. H. Dr. P. Dr. R. Dr. T. and as many Doctors more as will stand betwixt London and Oxenford, if you have not a sleight of Art to Metamorphize yourselves into Triorchises, and have one stone more than Nature hath bestowed upon you (which is forsooth the Philosopher's Stone) have amongst you blind Harpers, Magicus will not stick to teem Urinals on your heads, and crown you all, one after another, with the Pisspot, and honour you with the Title of Quacksalvers. What? Magicus! Is it not sufficient that you have no sense nor wit, but you will have no good manners neither? Observation 32. Pag. 30. This thirtieth page teaches that the Soul of man consists of two parts, Ruach and Nephesh, one Masculine and the other Feminine. And Anthroposophus is so tickled with the Application of the conceit unto Marriage, which he very feelingly and savourly pursues, that he has not the patience to stay to tell us how these two differ, he being taken up so with that powerful charm and thence accrueing Faculty of Crescite & Multiplicamini. Observation 33. Pag. 31. This page has the Legend that the Alcoran has concerning the envy of the Angels. But all goes down alike with him, as if every thing printed were Gospel. In so much that I am persuaded that he doubts not but that every syllable of his own Book is true, now it has passed the Press. SECT. V. 34. Eugenius broaches an old truth for a new doctrine. 35. His error that the sensitive part in man is a portion of Anima Mundi. 36. His rash rejection of Peripatetical forms. 37. His odd conceit of blind men's seeing in their sleep. 38. And of the flowers of Herbs, framed like eyes, having a more subtle perception of heat and cold then other parts of them have. 39 His distinguishing the Rational or Angelical spirit in man from the Sensitive. 40. Mastix commends Eugenius for his generous discourse of the excellency of the Soul. 41. Rebukes him for his enmity with the Peripatetics and School-Divines, and for his rash swearing and protesting solemnly before God that he wrote only out of Zeal to the truth of his Creator. 42. Check● his bold entitling of his own writings to the Sacrosanctity of Mysteries. 43. Taxes his vain idolising of Ag●ippa. 44. Shows him the fruitless effects of Enthusiastic Poetry without the true knowledge of things. 45. Approves of several collections of his concerning God and the Soul, but disallows of his rash censure of Aristotle's Philosophy, challenging him to show any solution of Philosophic controversies by his Chemical experiments. 46. Sports himself with his solicitude of what acceptance his writings will have in the world. 47. As also with his modest pride in disclaiming all affectation of Rhetoric. 48. And his lank excuse in that he wrote in the days of his mourning for the death of his brother. 49. His ridiculous Tergiversation in not submitting his writings to the censure of any but God alone. Observation 34. Pag. 32. THis page ridiculously places Peter Ramus amongst the Schoolmen against all Logic and Method. And at the last line thereof bids us arrigere aures, and tells he will convey some truth never heretofore discovered, viz. That the Sensitive gust in a man is the forbidden fruit; with the rest of the circumstances thereof. Which Theory is so far from being new, that it is above a thousand years old. It is in Origen and every where in the Christian Platonists. Observation 35. Pag. 38. Lin. 27. It is part of Anima Mundi. Why! is Anima Mundi (which, you say, in men and beasts can see, feel, taste and smell) a thing divisible into parts and parcels? Take heed of that Anthroposophus! lest you crumble your own soul into Atoms; indeed make no soul, but all body. Observation 36. Pag. 39 Lin. 22. Blind Peripatetical forms. What impudence is this O Magicus! to call them so unless you make your Anima Mundi more intelligible? This is but to rail at pleasure, not to teach or confute. Observation 37. Pag. 40. Lin. 2. As it is plain in dreams. Blind men than see in their sleep it seems, which is more than they can do when they are awake. Are you in jest Eugenius! or in good earnest? If you be, I shall suspect you having a faculty to see when you are asleep, that you have another trick too, that is, to dream when you are awake. Which you practised I conceive very much in the compilement of this book, there being more dreams than truth by far in it. Observation 38. Lin. 11. Represent the eyes. How fanciful and poetical are you Mr. Magicus! I suppose you allude to the herb Euphrasia or Eyebright: Which yet sees or feels as little light or heat of the Sun, as your soul does of reason or humanity. Observation 39 Lin. 27. Angelical or rational spirit. Does not this see and hear too in man? If it do not, how can it judge of what is said or done? If it does; then there are two hearing and seeing souls in a man. Which I will leave to Anthroposophus his own thoughts, to find out how likely that is to be true. Observation 40. 46, 47, 48, 49. Pages. Truly, Anthroposophus! these pages are of that nature, that though you are so unkind to Aristotle, as to acknowledge nothing good in him; yet I am not so inveterate a revengeful assertor of him, but I will allow you your lucida intervalla. What you have delivered in these pages concerning the Soul of man, bating a few Hyperboles, might become a man of a more settled brain than Anthroposophus. But while you oppose so impetuously what may with reason be admitted, and propound so magisterially what is not sense, I must tell you Anthroposophus! that you betray to scorn and derision even those things that are sober in the way that you affect, and hazard the soiling of the highest and most delicate truths, by your rude and unskilful handling of them: And now the good breath, that guided you for these four pages together, is spent, you begin to rave again after the old manner, and call Galen Antichrist in the fiftieth page; Observation 41. Pag. 50. And quarrel again with the Peripatetics, and provoke the School-divines. And then you fancy that you have so swinged them, that in revenge they'll all fall upon you at once, and so twerilug you: when as they good men feel not your strokes, and find themselves something else to do, then to refute such crazy Discourses as this. It is I only, it is I, your brother Philalethes, that am moved with pi●ie towards you● and would, if I could, by carefully correcting you in your distempers, bring you to a sober mind, and set you in your right senses again. And I beseech you brother Philalethes● forbear this swearing: An honest man's word is as good as his Oath. No body will believe you more for swearing, than he would without it, but think you more melancholic and distracted. Observation 42. Lin. 21. Whiles they contemn mysteries, etc. In this heat all that Philalethes writes must be termed Holy mysteries. His project certainly is, now neither Episcopacy nor Presbytery can be settled, to get his book established jure divino. A crafty colt! Ha, ha, he! Philalethes, Are you there with your Bears? Observation 43. Lin. 29. Next to God I owe all I have to Agrippa. What? more then to the Prophets, and Apostles, Anthroposophus? The business is, for your fame-sake, you have more desire to be thought a Conjurer then a Christian. Observation 44. Pag. 53, 54. Great glorious penman! A piping hot paper of verse●●ndeed, Anthroposophus! But say truly! What can you do in or out of this heat more than other men? Can you cure the sick? Rule and counsel States and Kingdoms more prudently for the common good? Can you find bread for the Poor? Give a rational account of the Phoenomena of Nature, more now then at another time? or more than other men can do? Can you tell me the nature of Light? the causes of the Rainbow? what makes the flux and reflux of the Sea? the operations of the Loadstone, and such like? Can you tell us in a rational, dependent, and coherent way the nature of such things as these, or foretell to us what will be hereafter, as certainly and evidently as the Prophets of old? But if there be neither the evidence of Reason, nor the testimony of notable effect, you can give us; you must give me leave Anthroposophus! to conjecture; That all this is but a frisk and dance of your agitated spirits, and firinesse of your fancy, of which you will find no fruit, but a palsied, unsteady apprehension, and unsound judgement. Observation 45. Pag. 55. From this page to the 62. your theomagical Nag has been pretty surefooted, Philalethes! And it is a good long lucidum intervallum you have ambled out. Nay and you have done very well and soberly in not plainly pretending any new thing there. For they are both old and well seasoned, if the Church be so pleased to esteem of them. But what you have toward the latter end of the 62 page, that is, a word of yourself, and another o● the common Philosophy, has in it a spice of the old malady, pride and con●●it●dnesse: as if you had now finished so famous a piece of work, as that all the world would stand amazed, and be inquisitive after you, ask who is this Philalethes, and what is he? Presbyterian or Independent? Sir, may it please you, He is neither Papist, though he bid fair enough for Purgatory in his Exposition of St. Peter in the foregoing page; nor Sectary, though he had rather style himself a Protestant than a Christian: but be he what he will be, he is so great in his own conceit, that though you have not the opportunity to ask his judgement, yet he thinks it fit unasked to set himself on the seat of Judicature, and disgorge his sentence on our ordinary Philosophy. He means you may be sure the Aristotelean in use for so many hundred years in all the Universities of Europe. And he pronounces of it, that it is An inconsistent hotchpotch of rash conclusions, built on mere imagination without the light of Experience. You must suppose he means Chemical experiments, for you see no small pretensions to that in all his Treatise. And this very Title page, the first of the book, has the privilege to be first adorned with this magnificent term of Art, Protochymistry. But tell me, Mr. Alchemist! in all your skill and observation in your Experiments, if you have hit on any thing that will settle any considerable point controverted amongst Philosophers, which may not be done as effectually at less charges. Nay, whether you may not lose Nature sooner than find her by your industrious vexing of her, and make her appear something else than what she really is; Like men on the rack or overwatched witches, that are forced many times to confess that which they were never guilty of. But it being so unsatisfactory to talk in general, and of so tedious purpose to descend to particulars, I will break off this discourse. Only let me tell you thus much Mr. Philalethes! that you are a very unnatural son to your mother Oxenford, and to her sister University; for if they were no wiser than you would make them, you would hazard them and all their children to be begged for fools: And there would be a sad consequent of that. But your zeal and heated melancholy considers no such things, Anthroposophus! Observation 46. Pag. 65. Lin. 3. I have now done, Reader! but how much to my own prejudice I cannot tell. Verily nothing at all Philalethes! For you have met with a friend that hath impartially set out to you your own follies and faults. And has distorted himself often into the deformities of your postures, that you may the better see your ●elf in another, and so for ●hame amend. Observation 47. Lin. 8. Paint and trim of Rhetoric. How modest are you grown Philalethes! Why? this affectation of humour and Rhetoric is the most conspicuous thing in your book. And shines as oriently, as false gold and silver lace on a linsey-wolsey coat. Observation 48. Lin. 22. Of a brother's death. Some young man certainly that killed himself by unmerciful studying of Aristotle. And Philalethes writ this book to revenge his Death. Observation 49. Lin. 18. I expose it not to the mercy of man, but to God. See, the man affects an absolute Tyranny in Philosophy. He'll be accountable to none but God. You no Papist Philalethes? Why! you would be a very Pope in Philosophy, if you would not have your Dictates subject to the canvas of man's reason. Observations upon his Advertisement to the Reader. THe first thing you require is, that he that attempts your Book, should make a plain and positive Exposition of all the passages. Why man? that is more assuredly than yourself can do. For you are so weak and supine in many things that are intelligible, that I am confident you are worse in that which you have made less intelligible. For as Socrates reading an obscure Author, when he found all things he understood very good, did charitably conclude, what he understood not was much better: so I finding in this obscure Treatise of yours, many things very ill, I also in charity will think you had the wit to conceal those things which are the worst; or, which will serve the turn, that you understand them not yourself. But have an itching desire that some Reader skilfuller than yourself, should tell you whether you have wrote sense or nonsense: Like the Country Clown, that desired his young Master to teach him to write, and being asked how he would be able to read his own writing, being as yet never acquainted so much as with the christ-crosse-row, made answer he would get some body else to read it for him. And so you Philalethes! though you can read your own writing, yet you desire to get some body else to understand it for you, or to interpret to you what you have writ. Your second request is not much unlike the former, and too big a business for yourself to do, and therefore you beg it of another. Your third request is to have your book handled after your own manner and method. Which is as ridiculous, as if you should request your enemy to smite softly, or to strike after such a fashion; & at such a part as you will appoint him. Can it be reasonable for you to expect from an Aristotelean (for you must think it would be they of all men that would fly about your ears first) when you have used their Master Aristotle, as they would not, to be used of them as you would But notwithstanding Philalethes! you see I have been fair with you, and, though provoked, I shall continue the same candour in my Observations on your following piece. But before I pass, I must take notice of your two admonitions to the ingenuous Reader, for I suppose you mean me, Philalethes! The first is, that I would not despise your endeavours, because of your years, for they are but few. Why man! who knew that but yourself, if you could have kept your own counsel? Your name is not at your book, much less your age. But indeed many things are so well managed of you, that if you had not told us so, we might have shrewdly suspected, you have scarcely reached the years of discretion. But you are so mightily taken with your own performance, that to increase admiration, and for the bringing in a phrase or sentence out of Proclus, you could not withhold from telling us that you are but a young man, and so we easily believe it. But the more saucy Boy you to be so bold with Reverend Master Aristotle, that grandeval Patriarch in points of Philosophy. For the second admonition, it is little more than a noise or clatter of words, or if you will, a mere rattle for a boy to play with. And so I leave it in your hand to pass away the time, till I meet you again in your Anima Magica Abscondita. Upon the Preface to the READER. NOw God defend! what will become of me! In good faith, Philalethes! I do not know what may become of you in time, But for the present, me thinks, you are become a fool in a play, or a Jack-pudding at the dancing on the Ropes, a thing wholly set in a posture to make the people laugh. Fie! Fie! Philalethes! Do these humorous and Mimical schemes of speech become so profound a Theomagician, as yourself would seem to be? Does this ridiculous levity become a man of your profession? You do not a little disparage yourself by these boyish humours, my good Philalethes! For mine own part, I am neither so lightheaded no● light-footed, as to dance the Morisco with you measure to measure, through this whole toy of yours to the Reader. I shall dispatch what I have to say at once. Your main drift here is to prove Agrippa's Dogs no Devils, and their Master no Papist, and consequently yourself no unlawful Magician or Conjurer. And truly if the assembly of Divines be no more suspicious of you then myself, I am abundantly satisfied, that you are rather a giddy fantastic than an able Conjurer, so that without any offence to me, you may take Wierus his office if you will, and for want of employment, lead about Agrippa's beagles in a string. In the mean time I shall busy myself almost to as little purpose in the perusal of your Anima Magica Abscondita. Upon Anima Magica Abscondita. SECT. I. 1. Eugenius his maimed citation of Aristotle's definition of Nature. 2. His illogical exception against him for using of a general Notion in this definition, and a difference expressing only what Nature does, not what she is. 3. His ridiculous exception against Magirus his definition of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or forma, Quae absolvit, expolit, informat rem naturalem, ut per eam una ab altera distinguatur. 4. His barbarous translation of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Consummatio or Finitatio, and a repetition of his former cavil. 5. He exhorts the Peripatetics to change their Abstractions into Extractions, that they may discern the substantial forms themselves in the inward closet of Matter. 6. Tells us that the motions of the heavens are from an internal Principle, and that Intelligences are fabulous. 7. Reproaches the Scribblers concerning Mat●er and Form, as writing nothing to their own credit, or profit of the Reader. 8. Informs us that the Anima mundi retained in the Matter and missing a vent organizeth bodies. 9 His misapplication of that Hemistichium of Virgil— Auraï simplicis ignem. The passive spirit the inmost vestment of the soul applying to Generation, and that the vital liquor or aethereal water attracts the passive spirit. 10. His chain of Descent whereby the soul is caught in the Matter. 11. His declaring of the foregoing mystery makes him suspect that he has too publicly prostituted the secrets of Nature. Observation 1. ANd here Philalethes! in the very threshold you begin to worry the poor Perepateticks more fiercely than any English mastive, and bark and scold into the air (that is, in general) more cursedly and bitterly then any Butter-quean; but at last in the first line of the second page, you begin to take to task some particular Documents of Aristotle's. viz. The description of Nature, of Form, and of the Soul. Whereby we shall understand of what great judgement and perspicacity you are in other points of Philosophy. And first of the Definition of Nature, which you say is defined, Principium motus & quietis. A little thing serves your turn, Anthroposophus! is this the entire Definition of Nature, in Aristotle? But what you unskilfully take no notice of, I willingly wink at, and will deal with you only about those things that you produce and oppose. Observation 2. Pag. 3. Lin. 19 Nature is a Principle. Here you cavil that Nature is said to be a Principle, because you cannot find out the thing defined by this general intimation. But here, Philalethes! you are a pitiful Logician, and know not so much in Logic as every Freshman in our University doth, viz. that that part of the Definition which is general does not lead us directly home unto the thing defined, and lay our hand upon it; but it is the difference added that does that. As if so be we should say only that, Homo est animal, that assertion is so floating and hover, that our mind can settle on nothing, which it may safely take for a man; for that general notion belongs to a slay, or a mite in a cheese as well as to a man; but adding rationale, than it is determined and restrained to the nature of man. And your allegation against the difference here annexed in the definition of Nature, is as childish. For you only allege that it tells us what nature does, not what it is. My dear Philalethes! Certainly thou hast got the knack of seeing further into a millstone then any mortal else. Thou hast discovered, as thou thinkest, Dame Nature stark naked, as Actaeon did Diana; but for thy rash fancy deservest a pair of Ass' ears, as well as he did his Bucks-horns for his rash sight. Can any substantial form be known, otherwise then by what it can do or operate. Tell me any one substantial form that thou knowest any better way than this, & Phillida solus habeto, take Phillis to thyself, and her black-bag to boot. Thou art, good Anthroposophus! I perceive, a very unexperienced novice in the more narrow and serious search and contemplation of things. Observation 3. Pag. 4. Lin. 23. This is an express of the office and effect of forms, but not of their substance or essence. Why! Philalethes! as I said before, have you ever discovered the naked substance or Essence of any thing! Is colour, light, hardness, softness, etc. is any of these or of such like, essence & substance itself? if you be so great a Wizard, show some one substantial form in your Theomagical glass. Poor Kitling! how dost thou dance and play with thine own shadow, and understandest nothing of the mystery of substance and truth! Observation 4. Pag. 5. Here in the third place you cavil at Aristotle's Definition of the Soul, and by your slubbering and barbarous translating of the term 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 smother the fitness of the sense. What more significant of the nature of a Soul, than what this term 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is compounded of? viz. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. — Totamque inf●sa per artus Mens agitat molem. Or if we read the word as Cicero, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, it will be more significant, as being made up of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. And that which does inwardly pervade and penetrate, that which does hold together, and yet move this way and that way, and lastly still moving possess and command an organical body, etc. what is this but a Soul, or what better Definition can be given of it then this? But here this peremptory opposer does still inculcate the same cavil, that the naked substance or essence of the soul, is not set out by this, but its operations. But still out of the same ignorance, supposing that a substantial Form can be better known then by its proper operations. And this ignorance of his makes him so proud, that he does Fellow at every word, if not Sirrah, Prince Aristotle; because he has not done that which is impossible to do, unbare to us the very substance of the Form. What an imperious boy is this! a wrangling child in Philosophy, that screams and cries after what is impossible, as much as peevish babes, after what is hurtful. And in this humorous straining and wriggling bemarres both his Mother and his Aunt, both the Universities at once, casting dirt and filth upon their education of youth, as if they taught nothing, because they cannot teach what is impossible to be learned. Observation 5. Pag. 8. Here Anthroposophus begins to be something earnest and rude with Nature, not content any longer to use his adulterous fancy, but to break open with his immodest hands her private closet, search her Cabinet, and pierce into her very Centre. What rare extractions he will make thence, I leave to himself to enjoy. Sure I am, that if any skilful Cook, or Chemist, should take out Philalethes brains, and shred them as small as mincemeat, and tumble them never so much up and down with a trencher-fork, he would not discover by this diligent discussion any substantial Form of his brains, whereby they may be discovered from what lies in a Calves head. Nay, if they were stewed betwixt two dishes, or distilled in an Alembek, neither would that extraction be any crystalline mirror to see the substantial form stark naked in, and discover the very substance of that spirit, that has hit upon so many unhappy hallucinations. But you are a youth of rare hopes, Anthroposophus! Observation 6. Pag. 9 Lin. 20. Where by the way I must tell you, etc. viz. That the Heavens are not moved by Intelligences. Who cannot tell us that? But indeed you are forward to tell us any thing, that does but seem to sound high, or make any show. There's no body now but would laugh to hear, that a particular Angel turns about every Orb, as so many dogs in wheels turn the spit at the fire. So that it seems far below such a grand Theomagician as you are, to tell us such incredible fopperies as these to be false. Observation 17. Lin. 10. For the Authors credit and benefit of the Reader. Good Philalethes! What credit do you expect from your scribbling, though it be the only thing you aim at in all your Book? when yet nothing of truth but this aim of yours is to be understood throughout all this writing. Observation 8. Lin. 15. This Anima retained in the Matter and missing a vent, etc. A similitude, I suppose, taken from the bunghole of a barrel; or more compendiously from bottled bear; or it may be from the corking up close the urine of a bewitched party, and setting it to the fire. For Anthroposophus will not be less than a Magician in all things, nor seem less wise then or witch or devil. But me thinks, Anthroposophus! your expression of the nature of this Anima, that must do such fine feats in the world, by the efformation of things and organizing the matter into such useful figuration and proportion in living creatures, had been as fitly and as much to your purpose expressed; if you had fancied her tied up like a pig in poke, that grunting and nudling to get out, drove the yielding bag out at this corner and that corner, and so gave it due order and disposition of parts. But, O thou man of mysteries! tell me I pray thee, how so so subtle a thing as this Anima is, can be either barreled up, or bottled up, or tied up in a bag, as a pig in a poke! when as the first material rudiments of life be so lax and so fluid, how can they possibly hopple or incarcerate so thin and agile a substance as a Soul? so that the union betwixt them is of some other nature, than what such gross expressions can represent, and more theomagical than our Theomagician himself is aware of. Observation 9 Pag. 11. Here Anthroposophus tells us rare mysteries concerning the Soul, that it is a thing stitched and cobbled up of two parts. viz. of aura tenuissima, and lux simplicissima. And for the gaining of credence to this patched conceit, he abuses the authority of that excellent Platonist and Poet Virgilius Maro, taking the fag end of three verses which all tend to one drift, but nothing at all to his purpose. AEneid. 6. Donec longa dies perfecto temporis orbe Concretam exemit labem, purumque reliquit AEthereum sensum, atquo aurai simplicis ignem. This is not spoken of the Soul itself, but of the Aethereal Vehicle of the Soul, and so is nothing to your purpose Mr. Philalethes! You tell us also in this page in what shirts or sheets the Souls wrap themselves when they apply to generation, (as your phrase is) as if you were Groom of their bedchamber, if not their Pa●der. You tell us also of a radical vital liquor that is of like proportion and complexion with the superior interstellar waters, which is as learnedly spoken, as if you should compare the Sack at the Globe-Tavern, with certain supernal Wine-bottles hung round Orion's girdle: Which no man were able to smell out, unless his nose were as Atlantic as your rauming and reaching fancy. And yet no man that has not lost his reason, but will think this as grave a truth in Philosophy as your interstellar waters. But Interstellar, indeed, is a pretty word and sounds well, and it is pity but there were some fine Philosophic notion or other dld belong to it. But now, Philalethes! if I would tyrannize over you as you do over Aristotle, for the manner of your declaring the nature of the Soul, where you pretend to show us the very naked essence of it, and first principles whereof it doth consist, you have laid yourself more bare to my lash, than you endeavoured to lay bare the Soul to our view: for you do plainly insinuate to us, That either the Soul is Light, or else a thin Air, or that it is like to them. If only like these bodies of Light and Air, how pitifully do you set out the nature of the Soul, when you tell us the principles of it only in a dry metaphor? Is not the nature of the Soul far better known from the proper operations thereof (as Aristotle has defined it) then from this fantastical metaphorical way? But if you will say that the Soul is properly Light or Air, then be they never so thin, or never so simple (unless you will again use a metaphor) the Soul must be a Body. And how any corporeal Substance thick or thin, fluid or dry, can be able to think, to reason, to fancy, etc. nay to form matter into such cunning and wise frames and contrivancies as are seen in the bodies of living Creatures, no man of less ignorance and confidence than your self will dare to endeavour to explain, or hold any way probable. Observation 10. Pag. 12. In this page you are curiously employed in making of a Chain of Light and Matter, surely more subtle and more useless than that that held the Flea prisoner in the Mechanics hand. But this is to hold the Anima, the passive Spirit and celestial Water together. Our Theomagician here grows as imperious as wrathful Xerxes. Will you also fetter the Hellespont Philalethes? and bind the wind and waters in chains? Buc let's consider now the link of this miraculous chain of his. Light. Matter. Anima of 3 of 1 portions Passive spirit of 2 of 2 portions Celestial waters of 1 of 3 portions This is your chain, Philalethes! Now let's see what Apish tricks you'll play with this your chain. The three portions of light must be brought down by the two, the two (if not indeed five, the two and three being now joined) brought down by one, and so the whole chain drops into the water. But would any Ape in a chain if he could speak, utter so much incredible and improbable stuff, with so much munky and mysterious ceremony? His very chain would check his both thoughts and tongue. For is it not far more reasonable that three links of a chain should sway down two, and two or five one, then that one should sway two or five, or two three? Or do we find when we fling up a clod of earth, that the whole ball of the Earth leaps up after that clod, or the clod rather returns back to the Earth, the greater ever attracting the less, if you will stand to magnetical Attraction. But truly Philalethes! I think you do not know what to stand to, or how to stand at all; you are so giddy and intoxicated with the steam and heat of your disturbed fancy and vain mind. Observation 11. Pag. 13. Lin. 8. But me thinks Nature complains of a prostitution, etc. Did not I tell you so before, that Philalethes was a pander? and now he is convinced in his own conscience and confesses the crime, and his ears ring with the clamours and complaints of Madam Nature, whom he has so lewdly prostituted. Sad Melancholist! thou art affrighted into the confession of crimes that thou art not only not guilty of, but canst not be guilty of if thou wouldst. Is there never a one of our City Divines at leisure to comfort him and compose him? I tell thee, Madam Nature is a far more chaste and discreet Lady, then to lie obnoxious to thy prostitutions. These are nothing but some unchaste dreams of thy prurient and polluted fancy. I dare quit thee of this fact, Philalethes! I warrant thee, Thou hast not laid Madam Nature so naked as thou supposest, only thou hast, I am afraid, dreamed uncleanly, and so hast polluted so many sheets of paper with thy Nocturnal Conundrums, which have neither life, sense, nor shape, head nor foot, that I can find in them. SECT. II. 12. That Spiders and other brute creatures have knowledge in them from the first Intellect. 13. That the Seminal Forms of things are knowing and discerning Spirits. 14. That the World is from God, and all true wisdom: which is to be found by experiments, not in Aristotle's writings. 15. Because of the abuse of Logic he takes up the Litany of St. Augustine. 16. His three Magical Principles; viz. The first created Unity; the Binarius or this Unity defiled with Matter; the Ternarius or this Binarius refined by Art. 17. That this Ternarius (which he calls the Magician's Fire, Mercurius Philosophorum, Microcosmos, and Adam) is the Magical maze where Students lose themselves; And that this Magical fire moves in shades and Tyffanies here below, above in white etherial vestures. 18. His Periphrasis of Agrippa (after a long citation out of him) This is he with the black Spaniel, etc. 19 His self-condemnation for going counter to all the World in making use of Scripture for physiology. 20 The Mosaical Heaven and Earth are Mercury and Sulphur. Uxor Solis a certain principle in every Star and in the whole world. The coition of these two, their Ejection of seed, with many such lascivious Metaphors. 21. Light a certain Principle that applied to any body whatsoever perfects it in suo genere, and that this light is only multipliable. Observation 12. Pag. 14. HEre Philalethes is taken like a Fly in a Spiders Web. He is altogether for subtleties. But spins but a thick thread from them, such as any Rustics hand would draw out as well as his own, viz. That Spiders have some light of knowledge in them. Who knows not that Philalethes? But in the fifteenth page Observation 13. Pag. 15. He is so lavish of what he has so little of himself, that he bestows it on every plastic material Form; and not a Rose can grow in Nature but some seeing and knowing Hyliard with his invisible pencil must draw it, and thus by his mere rash dictate does he think he has dashed out that long and rational dogma in Philosophy of the particular 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or rationes seminales. Whose fondness in this groundless assertion it were easy to confute; but he that will not bring any reasons for what he says, is not worthy to have any reasons brought against him. For as for that only slight reason which he intimates, that the Matter being contrived into such a rational or artificial disposure of parts, the immediate Artificer thereof must have animadversion and reason in it, it is only said, not proved, and will reach no further, but that the ratio seminalis must at least proceed from something that is knowing, and be in some sense rational, but not have Reason and Animadversion in itself. The like confidence and ignorance is repeated and insisted upon in the 16 and 17 pages: but I let them pass. Observation 14. Pag. 18,19. These pages contain a certain preachment, which would have done well if it had been from some one that had more wit in knowing when to preach and when to hold his peace, and more charity to abstain from such undeserved chide of Aristotle. But your unmeasureable and unmerciful chastisings of him, and so highly advancing and soothing up yourself in your own windy conceits and fluttering follies make all your serious applications ridiculous and ineffectual. Observation 15. Pag. 20. Petition of St. Augustine, A Logica libera nos Domine, lin. 7. Assuredly, Philalethes, ever since the Church Litanie was put down, has used this of St. Augustine, and that with such earnestness and devotion that he has even extorted from Heaven the full grant of his Petition, and has become as free and clean from all sense and reason, as he is luxuriant and encumbered with disturbed and unsettled fancies and undigested imaginations. Observation 16. Pages 21. Lin. 3. These three Principles are the Clausses of all Magic, etc. Here Philalethes like the Angel of the bottomless Pit, comes jingling with the Keys of Magic in his hands. But he opens as Hokus Pokus does his fists, where we see that here is nothing and there is nothing. But something he will seem to say, viz. That the first Principle is one in one, and one from one. He that has so many years so devoutly prayed against Logic, do you expect when he speaks to hear reason? This is as much as to say nothing. One in one, and one from one? Suppose a ripe Apple should drop into the rotten hollow of the tree that bore it. Is this Apple your mysterious Magical principle? It may be that, as well as any thing else, by this description. For it is one Apple, in one hollow, from one tree. O but he adds. It is a pure white Virgin. Some religious Nun I warrant you. No she may not be a Nun neither. For she is uxor Dei & stellarum. It seems then, there is a kind of Plato's Commonwealth betwixt God and the Stars, and they have community of wives amongst them. But if she be so pure a Virgin-wife as you make her, how come some of her Husbands to wear horns as they do, viz. Aries, Capricorn and others? But is this to Philosophise, or to play the Theomagician, Philalethes! thus to tell us of virgins, or wives with white petticoats, or to tell us that from this one there is a descent into four, & c? This is but idle treading of the air, and only a symptom of a light swimmering fancy, that can have patience to write such hover undeterminate stuff as this, that belongs either almost to any thing or nothing. You even weary your Reader out, Philalethes! with such Metaphysical dance and airy fables. Observation 17. Pag. 22. Lin. 5. This is a Labyrinth and wild of Magic where a world of Students have lost themselves. And you Philalethes! have not scaped scot-free. For you have lost your reason before as I told you, and your so much and so confidently conversing with mere Unities and Numbers, which in themselves design nothing, will teach you in time, to speak words without any inward phantasm of what you say. So that you shall bid fair for the losing of your fancy too, and then you will be as you are near it already, Vox, praeterea nihil, a mere noise and clatter of words. Lin. 13. It moves here below in shades and tiffanies, etc. What a description is this of the Magician's fire? I suppose you mean the Magicians Thais. It moves in shades, that is, (for the text is very dark and wants a Commentary) in the Evening or Twilight. Tiffanies, is plain English, but white etherial vestures, must be white Petticoats and white Aprons, or else white Aprons upon Blue Petticoats, and that she is exposed to such a public prostitution passing through all hands, every one having the use of her body; this Theomagicians' fire seems to me to be no other than some very common strumpet. But if you mean any thing but a Strumpet, you have a wondrous infected fancy, that dresses up your theomagical notions in such whorish attire. But of a sudden my Theomagician has left those more gross and palpable expressions, and now dances very high in the air quite out of the Ken of our eye, like some Chemical Spirit that has broke its Hermetical prison, and flown away out of the Artist's sight and reach; being far more invisible and thin now, than the finest Tiffany that ever took his sight, and more arid and slight then the faintest shade. I tell you once more, Anthroposophus! that Ternaries, and Qu●ternaries, and Decades and Monads, and such like words of number have no useful sense nor signification, nor virtue, if unapplied to some determinate substance or thing. But our great Theomagician having no project in this writing that I see, but to amaze the world, contents himself only to rattle his chain, and to astonish the rude and simple as if some Spirit or Conjurer was at hand, and so those words that are most sonorous and consist of the greatest number of syllables, please him better, then what have more solid signification, and a more settled and sober sense. Observation 18. Pag. 24. Lin. 17. He with the black Spaniel. As for your adored Magus with the black Spaniel, and that dark Disciple of Libanius Gallus, what I have said to you already, will serve here too. But my controversy is with you only, Philalethes! a sworn enemy of Reason and Aristotle, and me thinks you are very like yourself still in the twenty seventh page. Observation 19 Pag. 27. Lin. 22. I am certain the world will wonder I should make use of Scripture to establish Philosophy, etc. Here, Philalethes, you seem self-condemned even from your own speech, being conscious to yourself, that all the world will be against you in this superstitious abuse of the Scripture. For are you wiser than all the world beside in this matter, because you have prayed away all your Logic in St. Augustine's Litany? What profane boldness is this to distort that high Majesty of the holy Scripture to such poor and pitiful services, as to decide the controversies of the World and of Nature? As well becoming it is, as to set pies and pasties into the oven with the sacred leaves of the Bible? This is but a fetch of imperious Melancholy and Hypocritical superstition, that under pretence of being more holy would prove more Tyrannical, and leave the understanding of man free in nothing at all, but bring in a philosophy too, jure Divine! And I can further demonstrate to you (beside what I have intimated from the transcendency of the Scripture, and high scope and aim thereof) that the Scripture teacheth no secret or principle of Philosophy, of which there is any doubt amongst men in their wits. For either (as where it seems to speak ex professo of any such things) it does it so obscurely that men rather father their own notions fetched from elsewhere, upon the Scripture; or else if it speak more plainly and literally, yet it being allowed by all sober men as well Jews as Christians, (as it is indeed undeniably evident from the passages themselves in Scripture) that it speaks so ordinarily according to the rude and vulgar use & apprehension of men, there can be no deciding collections in matters of Philosophy safely gathered out of it. Though I will not deny but that some Philosophic truths may have an happy and useful illustration and countenance from passages in Scripture; and their industry is not to be vilified that take any pains therein. But I do not believe that any man that has driven the proper use of the Scripture home to the most full and most genuine effect of it in himself, but will be so wise and so discreet, that he will be ashamed in good earnest to allow any such Philosophic abuse of it. But questionless the Scripture is the beginner, nourisher and emprover of that life and light which is better than all the Philosophy in the world. And he that stands in this light, the firmer and fuller he is possessed of it, he is the more able to judge both of Nature, Reason, and Scripture itself. But he that will speak out of his own rash heat, must needs run the hazard of talking at randum. And this I make the bolder in charity to pronounce, because I observe that the reverential abuse, and religious misapplication of the holy Writ to matters of Philosophy, for which it was not intended, does in many well-meaning men eat out the use of their Reason, for the exercise whereof Philosophy was intended. And hence so much spurious and fantastic knowledge multiplies now adays, to the prejudice of man's understanding, and to the intangling him in vain and groundless imaginations, fortuitously sprung up from uncircumspect Melancholy, dazzled and stounded with the streamings and flashes of Its own pertinacious fancy: Which sometime is so powerful as to overmaster the Melancholist into a credulity, that these flaring of false light in his dark Spirit are not from himself, but from a Divine Principle, the Holy Ghost. And then bidding a due to Reason, as having got some Principle above it, measures all truth merely by the greatness and powerfulness of the Stroke of the Phantasm. What ever fills the imagination fullest, must be the ●ruest. And thus a rabble of tumultuary and crass representations must go for so many Revelations, and every heaving up by an hypochondriacal flatulency must be conceited a rapture of the Spirit; they professing themselves to receive things immediately from God, when they are but the casual figurations of their anxious fancy, busily fluttering about the Text; which they always eye (though they dissemble it) as Hauks and Buzzards, fly they never so high, have their sight bend upon the Earth. And indeed if they should not forge their fancies into some tolerable suitableness with the letter of the Scripture, they would never be able to believe themselves, or at least to beget belief in others, that they are inspired: And so that high conceit insinuated into them by that wonderful yet ordinary imposterous power of Melancholy would fall to nothing, and they appear not so much as to themselves either Prophet's or inspired. But this I have touched elsewhere. I will let it go. Only let me cast in thus much: That he that misbelieves and lays aside clear and cautious reason in things that fall under the discussion of Reason, upon the praetence of hankering after some higher prinple, (which a thousand to one proves but the infatuation of Melancholy and a superstitious hallucination) is as ridiculous as if he would not use his natural eyes about their proper object till the presence of some supernatural light, or till he had got a pair of Spectacles made of the Crystalline Heaven, or of the Coelum Empyreum, to hang upon his Nose for him to look through. The truth is, He that lays aside Reason, casts away one of the most Sovereign Remedies against all melancholic impostures. For I conceive it would be very hard for men either to be deluded themselves, or to delude others by their conceited inspirations, if they would expect that every Revelation should be made good either by sound Reason, or a palpable and conspicuous Miracle. Which things if they were demanded of the inspired people when they come to seduce, surely they would sneak a way like the common Fiddlers, being asked to play a Lesson on the Organs, or on the Theorbo. Observation 20. Pag. 28, 29. In the former page you could not part till you had made God and Nature mysteriously kiss. In this, you metamorphize Mercury and Sulphur into two Virgins, and make the Sun to have more Wives than ever Solomon had Concubines. Every Star must have in it, Vxor Solis. But what will become of this rare conceit of yours, if the Stars themselves prove Suns? And men far more learned than yourself are very inclinable to think so. But now he has fancied so many Wives, he falls presently upon copulation helter skelter, and things done in private betwixt Males and Females, etc. Verily, Anthroposophus! if you had but the patience to consider your own Book seriously, and examine what Philosophic truth you have all this while delivered since your contemning of Aristotle's definition of Nature, Form, and Soul; you shall find in stead of his sober description from the proper operations and effects of things, nothing but a dance of foolish and lascivious words: almost every page being hung with Lawns and Tiffanies, and such like Tapestry, with black Shadowing hoods, white Aprons and Petticoats, and I know not what. And this must be a sober and severe Tractate of Anima Abscondita. As if the Soul were dressed in woman's apparel, the better to be concealed, and to make an escape. And to as much purpose is your heaps of liquorsome Metaphors, of Kissing, of Coition, of ejection of Seed, of Virgins, of Wives, of Love-whispers, and of silent Embraces, and your Magician's Sun and Moon, those two Universal Peers, Male and Female, King and Queen Regent's, always young and never old; what is all this but a mere Morris-dance and May-game of words, that signify nothing, but that you are young, Anthroposophus! and very sportful, and yet not so young but that you are marriageable, and want a good wife, that your sense may be as busy as your fancy about such things as those, and so peradventure in due time, the extravagancy of your heat being spent, you may become more sober. Observation 21. Pag. 30. Lin. 8. It is light only that can be truly multiplied. But if you tell us not what this light is, we are still but in the dark. I do not mean whether Light be a Virgin or a Wife, or whose Wife, or what clothes she wears, Tiffanies or Cobweblawns, but in proper words what the virtue and nature of it is. Whether Corpus or Spiritus, Substance or Accident, etc. But, Anthroposophus! you do not desire at all to be understood, but please yourself only to rant it in words, which can procure you nothing but the admiration of fools. If you can indeed do any thing more than another man, or can by sound reason make good any more truth to the World than another man can, than it is something; if not, it is a mere noise and buzz for children to listen after. SECT. III. 22. Certain notable Quotations of Eugenius his out of Scripture and other writers. 23, He presages what ill acceptance his high mysteries will have with the School-Divines. 24. He acknowledges the Scriptures obscure and mystical. 25. Some Philosophers that have attained to the Ternarius, could not for all that obtain the perfect Medicine; there being but six Atuhors he ever met with that understood that mystery fully. 26. That this Medicine transforms the body into a glorified state, and that the material parts are never seen more. The divine Spirit swallowing them into Invisibility. 27. He complains how ready the world will be to boy him out of countenance for his presumption in so high mysteries, especially the reverend Doctors, who, he says, sustain their gravity on these two crutches, pretended Sanctity and a Beard. 28. He advises us not to tamper with this Theomagical Medicine rashly. 29. Adding a monition out of the Poet. 30. That the Spirit whereby a man becomes magically wise & a lawful worker of miracles, is the Christian Philosophers stone and the white stone. 31. He entreats the Reader not to mistake him as if he had as yet attained to this stone, because God is no debtor of his. 32. He only affirms himself to be an Indicatour of it to others, as a Mercury to a traveller on the way. 33. And that if you could show him one good Christian capable of the secret, he would show him an infallible way to come by it. Observation 22. Pag. 31. FRom this 31 page to the 41, you have indeed set down the most courageous and triumphant testimonies, and of the highest, and most concerning truth that belongs to the soul of man, the attainment whereof is as much beyond the Philosopher's stone, as a Diamond is beyond a pebble stone. But the way to this mystery lies in a very few words, which is, a peremptory & persistent unraveling & releasing of the Soul by the power of God, from all touch and sense of sin and corruption. Which every man by how much the more he makes it his sincere aim, by so much the more wise and discreet he will appear, and will be most able to judge what is sound and what is flatuous. But to deal plainly with you, my Philalethes! I have just cause to suspect that there is more wind than truth as yet in your writings. And that it is neither from reason nor from experience, that yond seem to turn your face this way; but high things and fiery and sonorous expressions of them in Authors, being suitable to your youthfulness and Poetical fancy, you swagger and take on presently, as if, because you have the same measure of heat, you were of the same fraternity with the highest Theomagicians in the World. Like as in the story, where the Apples & Horsdung were carried down together in the same stream, the Fragments of Horsdung cried out, Nos poma natamus. Pardon the homelyness of the comparison. But you that have flung so much dirt upon Aristotle, and the two famous Universities, it is not so unjust if you be a little pelted with dung yourself. Observation 23. Pag. 42. Lin. 12. I know some illiterate School-Divines, etc. He cannot be content to say any thing that he thinks is magnificently spoken, but he must needs trample upon some or other by way of triumph and ostentation, one while clubbing of Aristotle, another while so pricking the Schoolmen, and provoking the Orthodox Divines, that he conceits they will all run upon him at once, as the jews upon the young Martyr St. Steven, and stone him for his strange mysteries of his Theomagick stone. Truly, Anthroposophus! there are some good things fall from you in your own style, and many cited out of considerable Authors, but you do so soil and bemar all with your juvenile immoralities and Phantastries, that you lose as much in the one a you get in the other. Observation 24. Pag. 44. Lin. 4. The Scripture is obscure and mystical, etc. And therefore say I, Philalethes! a very uncertain foundation to build a Philosophy on; but indeed such a mystical Philosophy as you would build, may be erected upon any ground, or no ground, may hang as a castle in the air. Observation 25. Pag. 45. Lin. 3. I never met in all my reading but with six Authors, etc. But how do you know that these six did perfectly understand the Medicine, and this stupendious mystery, unless you understood it perfectly yourself? So that you would intimate to the world that you do perfectly understand it. Observation 26. Lin. 25. After this the material parts are never more to be seen. This is the nature of the Medicine then, not to rectify a visible body but to destroy it. Like the cure of the headache, by cutting off the neck. Death indeed will cure all Diseases. But you will say this is not death, but a change or translation. Nor the other a medicine, but Spiritus medicus. So that in multitude of words you do but obscure knowledge. Observation 27. Pag. 46. Lin. 5. Boy me out of countenance, etc. Here Philalethes is mightily well pleased to think that one of his greenness of years should arrive to this miraculous ripeness and maturity of knowledge in the most hidden mysteries of Theosophy. And comparing himself with the Reverend Doctors, finds the greatest difference to be this, that they indeed have more beard, but he more wit. And I suppose he would intimate unto us, that they have so little wit that they know not the use of their own limbs. For if he make their beards their crutches, they cannot scape going on their heads, as if they were not inverted but rightly postured plants, or walking Stipites. In good truth you are a notable Wagg, Philalethes! Observation 28. Lin. 10. Let me advise thee, I say, not to attempt any thing rashly. And I commend your wit, Anthroposophus! in this point. For you are so wary of putting your finger into the fire, that like the Monkey you will rather use the Cat's foot then your own, as you will evidently show anon. Observation 29. Lin. 22. Orandum est ut sit mens sana in corpore sano. Keep yourself there Philalethes! 'Tis a great deal better piece of devotion then that of Augustine, A Logic â libera nos Domine. Observation 30. Pag. 48. 49. Lin. 22. This is the Christian Philosophers Stone, And, this is the white Stone. Which you, Philalethes! have covered over with so much green moss, that you have made it more hidden then ever before. Having little will, and less power to show it, but in all likelihood a great purpose of ostentating yourself. Observation 31. Pag. 49. Lin. 10. But Reader! be not deceived in me, I am not a man of any such faculties, etc. I warrant you, Anthroposophus! I am not so easily deceived in you. You have walked before me in very thin transparent Tiffanies all this while; or, if you will, danced in a net. I suspected you from the very first that you would prove so good and so wise as you now plainly profess yourself. But that you are no better than you are, you say is because God is no debtor of yours. Why! does God Almighty run so much in some men's Arrears that he is constrained to pawn to them that precious Jewel, or to give them the White stone, to quit scores with them? How far is this from Popery, Philalethes! that you seem elsewhere so much to disclaim? Observation 32. Lin. 13. I can affirm no more of myself, etc. Right! Philalethes! Right! Your fancy was never so happy as in transfiguring yourself into a Wooden Mercury, that points others the way which itself knows not, nor can ever go, but stands stock still. Observation 33. Lin. 18. Show me but one good Christian, etc. Why! then it seems Philalethes! that you are no good Christian yourself, and uncapable of the secret you are so free to impart to others. Or it is your discretion to attempt nothing yourself rashly, but as I said before to do as the Ape or Monkey, take the Cat's foot to rake the Chestnut out of the fire. SECT. IV. 34, He speaks here of the natural celestial Medicine more ordinary than the former, which after the middle Nature-fire is sublimed per Trigonum & Circulum and the Terra media, which is betwixt the Unarius and Binarius, is separated from the Magical compounded Earth, becomes the true Petra Crystallina, a bright Virgin Earth, Terra Maga in aethere clarificata, carrying in its belly Wind and Fire; to which if you unite the Heaven in a triple proportion, applying a generative heat to both, they will attract from above the Star-fire of Nature, and thus you shall have gloriam totius mundi, & fugiet à te omnis obscuritas. 35. Though the law of Nature be infallible in itself, yet God can repeal in particular what he has enacted in the general. 36. Eugenius his slight ground of Faith, which is the hope or desire that what we believe might be true. 37 Certain moral instructions of his to his student of Magic. 38. His salutation of the river Yska from whom he pretends to have learned many virtues. 39 He walks all night long by this river side a stargazing. 40. He endeavours to make his mind as clear as Yska's Crystalline streams. 41. Admires the lowness of his banks. 42. As also their homely clothing, one and the same all the year long. 43. He learns a lesson of Simplicity from hence. 44. Is transported in beholding the pure type of piety in the River. 45. Is astonished at the benignity of his streams, they enriching those shores that infringe their liberty by keeping them in their channel. 46. He takes instruction from the River to swim up to Heaven in his tears, as the River runs down to the Sea, but expresses himself so obscurely, that he seems to suppose the River to run to Heaven to show him the way thither. Observation 34. Pag. 50. HE tells us here an obscure Enigmatical story of attaining the Natural celestial Medicine, and that without any retractation, as if he himself had been a potent and successful Operator in the Mystery. But let me once more take notice of the fondness of this affected obscurity in words, that no man be any whit taken with that sleight of imposture, and become guilty of that passion of fools, causeless admiration. For the most contemptible Notion in the World, may be so uncertainly and obscurely set out by universal and hover terms taken from Arithmetic and Geometry which of themselves signify no real thing, or else from the Catachrestical use of the terms of some more particular and substantial Science, that the dark dress thereof may bring it into the creditable suspicion o● proving some venerable mystery; when as, (if it were but with faithfulness and perspicuity discovered and exposed to the judgement & free censure of sober men) it would be found but either some sorry inconsiderable vulgar truth, or light conjectural imagination, or else a ghastly prodigious lie. But say in good sadness, Philalethes! is not all this that you tattle in this page, a mere vapour and tempestuous buzz● of yours, made out of words you meet in Books you understand not? and casual fancies sprung from an heedless Brain? Is it any thing but the activity of your desire to seem some strange mysterious Sophist to the World; and so to draw the eyes of men after you? Which is all the Attraction of the Star-fire of Nature you aim at, or can hope to be able to effect. Did your Sculler, or shuttle Skull ever arrive at that Rock of Crystal you boast of? Or did you ever, saving in your fancy, soil that bright Virgin Earth? did your eyes, hands, or Experience ever reach her? Tell me what Giant could ever so lustily show you Lincoln-Calves, or hold you up so high by the ears, as to discover that Terra Maga in AEthere Clarificata. Till you show yourself wise and knowing in effect, give me leave to suspect you a mere ignorant boaster from your Airy unsettled words. And that you have nothing but fire and wind in your Brains, what ever your Magical Earth has in its belly. Observation 35. Pag. 51. Lin. 6. He can repeal in particular. Now, Anthroposophus! you make good what I suspected, that is, that you do not tell us any thing of this celestial natural Medicine, of your own Experience. For you being conscious to yourself of being no good Christian, as you confessed before, and God having not given so full a charter to the Creature but he may interpose and stop proceedings, surely at least you had so much wit, as not to try where there was so just cause of fear of frustration and miscarriage. So that you go about to teach the World what you have not to any purpose learned yourself. Observation 36. Lin. 27. And who is he that will not gladly believe, etc. A most rare and highly raised notion. You resolve then that holy expectance of the Saints of God concerning the life to come, into that fond kind of credulity and pleasant self-flattery, Facilè credimus quod fieri volumus, and yet you seem to unsay it again toward the end of this Period. And we will permit you, Anthroposophus! to say and unsay, to do and undo; for the day is long enough to you, who by your Magic and celestial Medicine are able to live till all your friends be weary of you. Observation 37. Pag. 52. In this whole page Anthroposophus is very Gnomicall and speaks Aphorisms very gracefully. But as moral as he would seem to be, this is but a prelude to a piece of Poetic ostentation, and he winds himself into an occasion of showing you a Paper of verses of his. If you do but trace his steps, you shall see him waddle on like some Otter or Water-Rat and at last flounce into the River Vsk. Where notwithstanding afterward he would seem to dress himself like a Water-Nymph at those Crystal streams, and will sing as sweet as any Siren or Mermaid. And truly, Master Anthroposophus, if that heat that enforces you to be a Poet, would but permit you in any measure to be prudent, cautiously rational, and wise, you would in due time prove a very considerable Gentleman. But if you will measure the truth of things by the violence and overbearing of fancy and windy Representations, this Amabilis insania will so intoxicate you, that to sober men you will seem little better than a refined Bedlam. But now to the Poetry itself. Observation 38. Pag. 53. 'Tis day my Crystal Vsk, etc. Here the Poet begins to sing, which being a sign of joy is intimation enough to us also to be a little merry. The four first verses are nothing else but one longwinded good-morrow to his dear Yska. Where you may observe the discretion and charity of the Poet, who being not resaluted again by this Master of so many virtues, the River Vsk; yet learns not this ill Lesson of clownishness, nor upbraids his Tutor for his Rusticity. Was there never an Echo hard by to make the River seem affable and civil, as well as pure, patient, humble, and thankful? Observation 39 Lin. 17. And weary all the Planets with mine eyes. A description of the most impudent Stargazer that ever I heard of, that can outface all the Planets in one Night. I perceive then, Anthroposophus! that you have a mind to be thought an Astrologian as well as a Magician. But me thinks, an Hill had been better for this purpose then a River. I rather think that your head is so hot and your mind so ill at ease, that you cannot lie quiet in your bed as other Mortals do, but you sleeping waking are carried out, like the Noctambuli in their dreams, and make up a third with Will with, the Wisp, and Meg with the Lantern, whose natural wander are in marish places, and near Rivers sides. Observation 40. Lin. ultima. Sure I will strive to gain as clear a mind. Which I dare swear you may do at one stroke, would you but wipe at once all your fluttering and fortuitous fancies out of it. For you would be then as clearly devoid of all show of knowledge, as Aristotle's Abrasa Tabula, or the wind, or the flowing, water of written characters. Observation 41. Pag. 54. Lin. 3. How I admire thy humble banks! Why! be they lower than the River itself? that had been admirable indeed. Otherwise I see nothing worthy admiration in it. Observation 42. Lin. 4. But the same simple vesture all the year. This River Yska then I conceive, according to your Geography, is to be thought to crawl under the AEquatour, or somewhere betwixt the Tropics. For were it in Great Britain or Ireland, certainly the palpable difference of seasons there, would not permit his banks to be alike clad all the year long. The fringe of reed and flags, besides those gayer Ornaments of herbs and flowers, cannot grow alike on your Yskaes' banks all Summer and Winter. So that you fancy him more beggarly than he is, that you may afterward conceit him more humble than he ought to be. Observation 43. Lin. 5. I'll learn simplicity of thee, etc. That's your modesty, Anthroposophus! to say so: For you are so learned that you may be a Doctor of Simplicity yourself, and teach others. Observation 44. Lin. 9 Let me not live, but I'm amazed to see what a clear type thou art of piety. How mightily the man is ravished with the contemplation of an ordinary Watercourse! A little thing will please you I perceive, as it does children, nay amaze you. But if you be so much enamoured on your Yska, do that out of love that Aristotle did out of indignation, embrace his streams, nay drown yourself, and then you will not live. You are very hot Antroposophus! that all the cool air from the River Yska will not keep you from cursing yourself, with such mortal imprecations. Observation 45. Lin. 11. Why should thy floods enrich those shores, etc. Why! how now! what's the matter, Philaleehes● that you and the banks no better agree? If you could so soon fall into the River as you fall out with the shore, you would to your great honour like Aristotle, be drowned indeed. In good truth you are a very sickle-headed Gentleman, Philalethes! thus in a moment to reproach what you did so highly admire even now, viz. the banks of Yska, which you then made so simple, so humble, and so innocent, that you fancied them an eximious pattern of those virtues for yourself to imitate. But now all of a sudden, your Poetical rapture I suppose spoiling your memory, you sling dirt on those banks that before you looked on as holy ground; and accuse them of injury, tyranny, and cruelty against the streams of your beloved Yska. But any ordinary Advocate may easily make good the Banks part against the River. For I say unto thee, O thou man of light imaginations! that the banks of Yska are just, in keeping but the ground that ever was allotted them; but where ever they have lost ground, it is the violence and the usurpation of the injurious River, that has worn them away and overrun them in an hostile manner. Besides I say, that the Banks aforesaid are very charitable and pious as well as just, and do not return revenge for injury. For whereas the aforesaid River, both by open force and secret undermining, doth daily endeavour to wear away and destroy the Banks, and encroach upon the neighbouring ground, (which attempt is as sottish and foolish as unjust, for so the River would be lost and drunk up by the Earth; Nor can there be any River without banks, more than an Hill without a valley;) yet notwithstanding all this provocation of the River aforesaid, the Banks are so patient, charitable, and of so Christianlike nature, that they preserve in being and good plight their inveterate enemy, and keep up that carefully and stoutly in its right form and perfection, that daily practices and plots their expected destruction. What do you answer to this, Philalethes! All that virtue and piety which you fancy in the River, you see now plainly growing upon the Banks. So that you may gather it, if you have a mind to it, without wetting your finger. Observation 46. Lin. ultima. Help me to run to Heavon, as thou dost there. Ha, ha, he! Why! I pray thee, does Yska run to Heaven there? No it runs down into the Sea, as the Devils and the Herd of Swine did; whither I hope you do not desire to go for company, Philalethes! But I wonder you being a whole day and a night on the banks of Yska, that no fish not so much as a small Stittlebag has leapt up into your fancy all this time. You might have learned many rare lectures of Morality from them too. As for example; in stead of due vigilancy you might learn from the fishes eyes never closing, to sleep and dream waking; or in stead of being mute as a fish when you have nothing to say, to say nothing to the purpose, or to express yourself as unintelligibly as if you had said nothing. But these and the like accomplishments naturally growing in you, you wanted no outward emblems to remind you of them, so that I hold you here excusable. But before I leave this rare Poem of yours, let me only take notice thus far: that your Leyitie and Fantastrie does much eclipse the glorious suspicion of your theomagical Faculty. For it will seem very incredible that so light and fanciful a Poet should ever prove a grave and wonder working Magician. SECT. V. 47. He recommends the walking and meditating by River sides and in Groves. 48. He discredits all modern writers saving Michael Sendivow and the Author of Physica Restituta. 49. He taxes that incomparable Philosopher Des-Cartes, as if he wrote nothing but whimsies. 50. He conceits himself to have been strutting on the stage all this while in the view of the World, but at last gives place to the next Actor. 51. He suspects some Peripatetic will take the next turn, whom he professes he shall at all adventures receive with scorn and laughter. 52. He takes it for granted that whosoever shall presume to write against him, will but prove himself a fool, and professes that the best way to convince such is to neglect them. Observation 47. Pag. 55. l. 1. THis is the way I would have thee walk in etc. viz. In Majestic Groves, and Woods, and by River sides. You are not then I perceive, an Anti-Peripatetick, Philalethes! though you be so violent an Anti-Aristotelean. But with such pompous gravity to give such slight Precepts as of walking by Rivers sides and in Groves, etc. argues more than enough of moping distempered Melancholy in you, and that it may, if you take not heed, make you indulge so much to delusive fancy, that you will be never able to set your eye again upon solid Reason, but range and ramble like one lost in a Wood Observation 48. Lin. 9 To trust no Modern but Mich. Sendivow, and Physica Restituta. How mightily are these two heholden to you, Philalethes, if you had but so many grains of judgement and discretion as to make you able to pass sentence upon any considerable Author? But what do you mean by trusting? To give faith and credence to them as to Holy Writ? If so, I perceive you have also a Triplicity of Bibles, viz. the usual one, Mich. Sendivow, and Physica Restituta. But we ordinary Mortals hope to be as wise and as happy with our single one, as you with your advantage of three. Observation 49. Lin. 13. With the Whymzies of Des-Cartes. This young man has as little manners as wit, to speak thus reproachfully of the most admirable Philosophy, that ever yet appeared in these European parts since Noah's flood. Certainly, Anthroposophus! you are set upon it to demonstrate yourself a pure pitiful Novice in Knowledge, whom only Ignorance makes so magisterially confident. But for thy want of due sagacity, I will take thee by the Nose, O Philalethes, with this one Dilemma, which shall pinch thee as hard, as St. Dunstan did the roaring Fiend with a red-hot pair of tongs. Thus; Either thou hast read Des Cartes his natural Philosophy, or thou hast not. If thou hast read it, thus to contemn it and term it a Whymzie, (whereas there was never any thing proposed to the World in which there is more wary, subtle, and close contexture of reason, more coherent uniformity of all parts with themselves, or more happy conformity of the whole with the Phaenomena of Nature) is to proclaim to all that understand Des-Carte's Philosophy, that thou hast a very broken, impatient, and unsteddie Apprehension, or a very dull and slow wit, and such as cannot discern when it lighteth upon what is most exactly rational, and when not. But what is most exactly rational, as his Philosophy indeed is to any competent Judge of Reason, is least of all whymzicall; but whymzies more naturally lodge in their brains that are loosely fanciful, not in theirs that are Mathematically and severely wise. So that this reproach returns upon thine own addle pate, O inconsiderate Philalethes! But if thou didst never read his Philosophy, and yet pronouncest thus boldly of it; that is not only impudently uncivil, but extremely and insufferably unjust. Observation 50. Pag. 56. Lin. 6. I will now withdraw, and leave the Stage to the next Actor. Exit Tom Fool in the play. Observation 51. Lin. 8. Some Peripatetic perhaps whose Sic probo shall serve me for a Comedy. So it seems if a man had seriously argued with you all this time, you would only have returned him laughter in stead of a solid answer, and so from Tom Fool in the Play, you would have become a natural Fool. But we have had the good hap to prevent you, & in stead of Sic probo's, to play the Fool for company, that is, to answer a fool according to his foolishness, that is, to rail and call names, and make ridiculous. Into which foolish postures as often as I have distorted myself, so often have I made myself a fool that you may become wise, and amend that in yourself, that you cannot but dislike in me. Nor would I ever meddle with you, as merry as I seem, but upon this and the like serious intentions. And must needs reckon it amongst the rest of your follies, that you expected that some severe Peripatetic would have laid battery against you, with syllogism upon syllogism, and so all confuted your Book, that there had not been left one line entire. But assure yourself Philalethes! the Peripatetics are not altogether given so much to scolding, that they will contest with a shadow, or fight with the wind. Nor so good marks-men, as to levelly at a Wild-goose flying. You are so fluttering and unsettled in your notions, and obscure in your terms, that unless you will be more fixed, and sit fair, and draw your Woodcocks head out of the bush or thicket, they will not be able to hit your meaning. Which I suspect you will never be persuaded to do, that you may keep yourself more secure from Gunshot. Observation 52. Lin. 13. And the best way to convince fools, etc. How wise Anthroposophus is to what is evil! Here he makes sure of calling him Fool first who ever shall attempt to write any thing against his Book. But it is no such mischief, Anthroposophus! to be called fool. The worst jest is when a man is so indeed. And if you had but the skill to winnow away all the chaff of humorous words and uncouth freaks and fetches of fancy, and affected phrases, which are neither the signs nor causes of any wisdom in a man; all that will be left of this learned discourse of yours, will prove such a small mo●tie of that knowledge your presumptuous mind conceited to be in herself, that you would then very sadly of your own accord (which would be your first step to become wise indeed) confess yourself a Fool. And this I understand of your knowledge in Nature. Now for that in Morality; It is true, you often take upon you the gravity to give precepts of life, as especially in the 52 and 55 pages of this Tractate. But you do it so conceitedly, with such chiming and clinching of words, Antithetal Librations, and Symphonical rappings, that to sober men you cannot but seem rather like some idle boy playing on a pair of Knick-knacks to please his own ear and fancy, than a grave Moralist speaking wholesome words and giving weighty counsel of life and manners. So that the best that you do, is but to make the most solemn things ridiculous, by your Apish handling of them. I suppose because a Religious Humour has been held on in some Treatises, with that skill and judgement, or at least good success, that it has won the approbation and applause of most men; an eager desire after fame has hurried you out upon the like attempt. And though you would not call your Book Religio Magici, as that other was Religio Medici; yet the favourable conceit you had of your own Worth, made you bold to vie with him, and in imitation of that, you have stuffed your Book here and there with a tuft of Poetry, as a Gammon of Bacon with green herbs, to make it taste more savourly. But all will not do, poor Magicus! For now your design is discovered, you are as contemptible as any Juggler is before him that knows all his tricks aforehand. And you run the same fortune that AEsop's Ass, who ineptly endeavouring to imitate the Courtship and winning carriage of his Masters fawning and leaping Spaniel, in stead of favour found a club for his rude performance. But you, Magicus! do not only paw illfavouredly with your fore-feets, but kick like mad with your hinder feet, as if you would dash out all the Aristoteleans brains. And do you think that they are all either so faint-hearted, that they dare not, or so singularly moralised, that Socrates-like, if an Ass kick they will not kick again? Yes certainly next to yourself they are as like as any to play the Asses, and to answer you kick for kick, if you will but stand fair for them. But you h●ve got such a Magical sleight of hiding your head, and nipping in your buttocks, like the Hobgoblin that in the shape of an Horse dropped the children off one by one off his tail into the water, that they cannot find you out nor feel whereabout you would be, else certainly they would set a mark upon your hinder parts. For if I, my dear Eugenius! who am your brother Philalethes, am forced out of care and judgement to handle you so seeming harshly and rigidly as I do, what do you think would become of you, si incideres in ipsas Belluas, if you should fall amongst the ireful Aristoteleans themselves? would you be able to escape alive out of their hands? Wherefore good brother Philalethes! hereafter be more discreet, and endeavour rather to be wise then to seem so, and to quit yourself from being a fool, then to fancy the Aristoteleans to be such. FINIS. Upon the Author's generous design, in his Observations, of discovering and discountenancing all mysteriously masked nonsense, and imposturous fancy; the sworn Enemies of Sound-Reason and Truth. NObly designed! let not a Sunday suit Make us my Gaffer for my Lord salute: Nor his Saints clothes deceive, O comely dress! Like to a Long-lane Doublets wide excess. How like a Sack it sits? Less far would fit, Did he proportion but his garb and Wit. The Wight mistakes his size, each wiseman sees His men's Fourteens shrink to a children's Three. Fill out thy Title, man! think'st thou canst daunt By pointing to the sword of john of Gaun●? Thou canst not wield it yet; an empty name Does no more feats than a mere painted flame. Rare Soul! whose words refined from flesh and blood Are neither to be felt nor understood: But if they sacred be, because not sense; To Bedlam, Sirs! the best Divines come thence. Your newfound Lights may like a falling Star, Seem heavenly Lamps, when they but Jellies are. An high swollen Wombs bid fair, but time grown nigh The promised birth proves but a Tympany. Should Superstition, what it most doth fly, Seek to take shelter in Philosophy? And Sacred Writ, sole image of sure Truth, Be pulled by th'nose by every idle youth? And made to bend as seeming to incline To all the fooleries he'll call Divine? Find out the Word in Scripture, all is found Swarms of Conceits buzz up from this one ground. As if the Cobbler all his trade would show From mention made of Gibeon's clouted shoe: Or Bakers their whole Art at large would read From the short record of the mouldy Bread. Is this the spirit? thus confusedly mad? Antipodal to him the Chaos had? Fell boisterous blast ● that with one Magic puff Turns the Schools Glory to a Farthing snuff● And against that ancient Sage the World adores, Like to a Lapland whirlwind loudly roars. Yet from thy travels in the search of things, Ridiculous Swain! what shallow stuff thou bring'st! What clothes they wear, Vails, Tiff'nies, dost relate, Thou art Philosophies Tom Coriat. Else brave Des Cartes, whom fools cannot admire, Had ne'er been singed by thy wild Whimzie fire. Poor Galen's Antichrists though one Purge of his Might so unmagick thee as make thee wise. Physic cures frenzy, knows inspired wit O●t proves a mere Hypochondriack fit. Agrippa's Cur sure kennels in thy weamb, Thou yelpest so and barkest in a dream; Or if awake, thou dost on him so fawn, And bite all else that hence his Dog thouart known. But I will spare the lash, 'twas my friend's task Who rescuing Truth engaged put on this mask. Thus does some careful Prince disguised go, To keep his Subjects from the intended blow; Nor could his lofty soul so low descend, But to uncheat the World; a noble end! And now the night is gone, we plainly find 'Twas not a Light but rotten Wood that shined. We owe this day (my dearest friend) to thee, All eyes but Night-birds now th' Imposture see. I. F. FINIS. THE SECOND LASH OF Alazonomastix; Containing a Solid and Serious REPLY to a very uncivil Answer to certain OBSERVATIONSUpon Anthroposophia Theomagica, And Anima Magica Abscondita. Proverb. He that reproves a scorner, gets to himself a blot. Ecclesiastic. Be not proud in the device of thine own mind, lest thy soul rend thee as a Bull. LONDON, Printed by I. Flesher. 1655. To his singularly accomplished friend Mr. john Finch. SIR, I Know that your modesty cannot but be much amazed at this unexpected Dedication. But the causes once discovered admiration will cease. Eugenius, as children use to do (who fallen into the dirt by their own folly, commonly make a lamentable complaint to their Father or Mother against them that help them up, as if they had flung them down) has told a hideous story to his Tutor, as if I had soiled him and dirtied him, when as I only reminded him that he lay in the dirt, which in this case is all one as to help him out of it. Wherefore, that I might hold up the humour every way of opposing my Adversary (as I must for fashion-sake call him) he making his false and grievous Accusation to his Tutor, I thought fit to direct this my true and pleasant Reply to you my Pupil. But if I should say, that this is so much as the least part of what moved me to this act, I confess I should dissemble. For to say nothing of the Nobleness of your Descent, which is held ordinarily a sufficient ground for such a respect as this: it is indeed the Sweetness and Candour of your nature, your great Civility and Pleasantness of Conversation, your miraculous Proficiency in the choicest parts of Philosophy, your egregious Perspicacity and kindly Wit, your generous Freedom of spirit, and true Nobleness of mind (whom the surly countenance of sad Superstition cannot awe, but the lovely face of Virtue, and radiant Beauty of Divine Knowlodge do most potently command to approve and prosecute what is really best) that has extorted this Testimony of love and respect from Your affectionate friend to serve you, ALAZ. PHILALETHES. To his learned Friend Alazonomastix Philalethes, Upon his Reply. DEar friend! as oft as I with care peruse This strange Reply of thine, I cannot choose But wonder at thy rare Complexion, Where Wit, Mirth, judgement thus conspire in one. Where Inspirations which make others mad, Unto thy Reason, grace and credit add; And Passion, that like dungeon dark, does blind, Proves the free fiery chariot of thy mind. Go surly Stoic, with deep furrowed brow, Nature's rude Pruner, that wilt not allow What's right and good. Here nought too much appears, Unless on thy shorn head thine own large ears. Since Mastix merry rage, all now believe Passion's an arm of man, no hanging sleeve. Brave generous Choler! whose quick motions pierce Swift like the lightning through the Universe; And in their hasty course as on they fare, Do cleanse men's souls of vice, as that, the Air. Noble Contention! which like brushing winds That sweep both Land and Sea, doth purge our minds. It is thy free and ever-active fire That rooseth men from snorting in the mire: And roosed, thy awe makes them to tread the stage In a due Order and right Equipage. Thy hiss more dreadful is then wounding sting Of serpent's teeth, that certain death do bring: And conscious souls start at thy laughter loud As at a Thunderclap broke from a cloud, When Jove some flash of world rebuking wit Le's fly, and faultless Gods all laugh at it: For so ridiculous vice in ugly guise Is made the sport and pastime of the wise. But when fond men themselves to their own face Have their foul shapes reflected, the disgrace And conscience of deformity so stings Their gauled minds, and fretted entrails wrings, That even grown wild with pain in vain they tyre Themselves to shake off this close searching fire; That sticks like burning pitch, and makes them wood As Hercules wrapped in the Centauris blood. This is thy fate, Eugenius! Thy odd look Reflected to thyself from Mastix book Has so amazed thee with the sudden glance, That all thy wits be struck into a trance. But Grief and Vengeance thou dost so revive, As if to them alone thou wert alive. And only takest care with language foul To soil his person, that would cleanse thy soul. Thus the free cheerful Sun with his bright rays Shines upon dunghills, fens, and foul high ways, While they return nought back for his pure beams But thick unwholesome mists and stinking steams. But yet at length near his Meridian height dispels the Morning-fogs by fuller light. Go on brave Mastix then, those noisome fumes Thy first appearance raised, sure this consumes. Johannnes Philomastix. To the Reader. Reader, IF thou hast perused my Observations upon the two Magical Treatises of Eugenius Philalethes, and his Answer to them, I do not doubt but that seeming and personated sharpness of mine will now seem just nothing at all, to thy indifferent judgement; if thou compare it with his unchristian bitterness and inhuman rail against me. For mine own part, I was so far from all malice, that if I have trespassed, it was from that over-pleasantnesse of temper I was in, when I wrote: which made me perhaps too heedless how much I might displease the party with whom I dealt, being secure of the truth of that saying in the Poet, — Ridentem dicere verum Quis vetat?— But I find that I have so nettled him unawares, as if his senses lay all in his backside, and had left his brains destitute: Which hath made him very illfavouredly wrong both himself, the Rod, and the Corrector. Verily if I had thought his retentive faculty had been so weak, I would not have fouled my fingers with meddling with him. Nor would I now lay on this second gentle lash (I seeing the disposition of my young Eugenius) if it were not as well to wipe myself, as to whip him. I could have been content to have been represented to the world as ignorant of Nature and Philosophy, as he hath by his bold and very bad speeches to me, endeavoured to represent me. For I am not bound in conscience to know Nature, but myself; nor to be a deep Philosopher; but to be and approve myself a plain and honest Christian. This forced me to this Reply. But I thought fit to cast in also, what will prove me no less a Philosopher than no Railer. But I am not contented to justify myself only from the success; but to thy further satisfaction, I shall not think much to acquaint thee with my purposes and principles. The truth is, Eugenius, though he be so highly conceited of himself, that he thinks his worth is great enough to contract my envy; yet he is so little in my eyes, and myself (I thank God) so little envious, that in this regard he is not at all considerable to me. But my drift was to whip that Genius & dispensation he is for the present under, upon Eugenius his own back, as having deserved to be an instrument to so good an end. And I persuade myself there are those parts and that freedom in some measure already in this young Philosopher, that in a little time he will say that he deserved this correction, and will laugh for company at the merry punishment, and will freely confess that I am his brother Philalethes, a lover of him and of Truth: And that he that whipped the money-changers out of the Temple, is as much the first Mastix, as Adam the first Magicus. But for the present he is under that dispensation which is as pernicious to the nature of man and Christianity itself, as it is, to the sober and wise, ridiculous. For he is even in a feverish thirst after knowledge and fame, and (as he hath made it manifest to t●e world) more after fame by far then knowledge. Wherefore, I observing in his theomagical tumour and loftiness nothing but confident misapplying or conceitedly interpreting the holy Writ, (the drift and meaning whereof is far above all natural Philosophy or tricks of Magic whatsoever) and then slighting and scorning those that, I dare say, he doth not understand, who yet are very rational and intelligible, I mean such as Des Cartes: and downright railing against the Aristoteleans and Galenists, who yet have many sober and useful truths amongst them: Moreover, I noting a melancholic, flatuous and heedless fancy to appear in his writings, clothed with sonorous and amazing terms, such as might rather astonish the ignorant, then teach the docible: Add unto all this, that it is too too common a disease now adays to be driven by heedless intoxicating imaginations under pretence of higher strains of Religion and supernatural light, and by bidding adieu to sober reason and a purified mind, to grow first fanatical, and then Atheistical and sensual, even almost to the height of abhorred Gnosticisme: I thought in good earnest it was very fit, out of my indignation to Foolery and Imposture, out of my detestation to Beastliness, Atheism, and Sensuality, and lastly out of that honourable respect and tender affection I bear to the Plainness and Simplicity of the life of Christ and true divine Wisdom, to take occasion to write in such a manner as I did, and to discountenance that Genius, that defaces the new appearing face of Christendom, and is a reproach to that just liberty that belongs to all those that seek after God in sincerity and truth. I but you will say, This indeed may be well meant: Bu● what title or right have you to intermeddle, or to correct another man's follies? This is usurpation and incivility. To this may many things be answered. It is true; The inward rottenness of men hath made very smooth laws to themselves in favour of their own follies and vices, and mutual connivance at what is bad is held the best manners; as if mankind packed and conspired together to keep wickedness warm in her usurped seat by never taking the boldness to examine her title. But to judge more charitably of the generations of men, I think it is more out of self-love, then love to her, and out of a tender dotage toward this imposturous knot of Atoms, our earthly Personality. Which yet I thought I was more favourable to here, having to do only with fictitious names, not any known Person. But it doth not follow, Though this be the mode, that therefore it is the right fashion: and Quando ego non curo tuum, nè cura meum, is but surlily said of the old man in the Comedy. That's the principle of Cain, Am I my brother's keeper? There was more divine generosity in that noted Cynic, then in civility itself, when it is so soft that it will not prick nor hurt vice. He would not spare to speak where things went amiss, however he sped for it; tanquam Pater omnium, tanquam Frater omnium, as they report of him. And I think I have sped ill enough for my but seasonable speaking. But if this be to appeal to too high a law, I answer further, that Eugenius had forfeited his privileges he might claim by the laws of civility, he himself having so uncivilly dealt with others that are above all comparison better than he. ay but you'll say, Why do you make him so ridiculous in your reproving him? Single reproof had been enough. I answer, I did not make him ridiculous, but found him so. He put on himself the pied coat, and I only drew aside the curtain. Did not the Thracian Girl rightly laugh at Thales when she see him stumble into a ditch, whiles he was staring up at the stars? And are not they as ridiculous, that pretend to Seraphic mysterious Theories, and are not masters yet of common sense and plamest truths of Christianity? That stumble at the threshold, or rather grope for the door as the blinded Sodomites? All the faculties of man are good in themselves, and the use of them, is at least permitted to him, provided that with seasonable circumstances and upon a right object. And I have made it already manifest that my Act was bounded with these cautions. ay, but there is yet something behind unsatisfied. Though Eugenius be ridiculous; yet is it not ridiculous, for one that pretends so much to the love of Christianity as yourself, so publicly to laugh at him? That pinches indeed. Why! am I so venerable a Personage? I am sure I never affected to seem any such to the world yet. I wear no satin ears, nor silk cap with as many seams as there are streaks in the back of a lute. I affect neither long prayers, nor a long beard, nor walk with a smooth-knobbed staff to sustain my Gravity. If I be a Precisian, as Eugenius would have me, it must be from hence, that I precisely keep myself to the naked truth of Christianity. As for Sects, Ceremonies, superstitious Humours, or specious garbs of Sanctimony, I look on them all, if affected, as the effects of Ignorance, or masks of Hypocrisy. And thus am I 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, a Gentleman in querpo, a mere man, a true man, a Christian. One that never thinks himself so great, as to grow unwieldy and unready to put himself into any shape or posture for a common good. And I prithee, Reader, why may not such a Christian as this laugh? Or tell me, Who is he in Heaven that laughs them to scorn, that has the opposers of the reign of Christ in derision? God is not a man that he should laugh, no more than cry or repent, as much as concerns them Divine Essence itself: But as God is in a Deiform man, he may be said to laugh, and he can be said to laugh no where else. And if he might, yet that which is attributed to God, though 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, cannot misbecome a good man. Thus Reader, is your argument against laughing as solidly argued as sportingly laughed out of countenance; and affected austerity made ridiculous by the plain and unaffected reasonings of Eugenius his merry Adversary, but Your sober and serious friend Alazonomastix Philalethes. To Eugenius Philalethes. Eugenius, THe reason why you heard not from me sooner, is because yours arrived to my hands later than I expected. It was so hot, it seems, that none of my acquaintance had so hard and brawny fingers as to endure the dandling of this glowing coal till its conveyance where you would have it. It is a brand from that fire, that hath not only calcined, but so vitrified Eugenius that it hath made him transparent to all the world. All men may see now through his glassy sides how unevenly and disorderly his black heart beats and pants; they need not feel his pulse to find his distempers Aesop's fair water but a little warmed hath proved a very ●ffectuall Emetic, for thee, O Philalethes, and hath made thee vomit up thy shame and folly in the sight of the world, as his Accuser did the figs before his Master. So that that which you falsely supposed me to have endeavoured, you have fatally brought upon yourself, above the desire, I should think, of your bitterest enemies; I am sure beyond the expectation of me that am your real friend. I did not endeavour your personal disgrace, but the discountenancing of that, which in my judgement is the disgrace of your person and many other persons besides. And now that you have done me the greatest despite you can imagine, and showed your malice to the full● so that in the court of Heaven and according to the doctrine of Christ you are no better than a murderer, yet for all this I am benignly affected t● you still, and wish you as much good, as I do those that never endeavoured to provoke me. And really I speak it from my soul, if it lay in my power to do it, you should find it. But for the present, I could in my judgement do nothing more proper, considering all circumstances, than what I have done, and still do, in advertising you of what is for the best. And truly, (looking upon you in some sort as a Noctambulo, one that walks in his sleep) that Book which hath proved so mischievous a scandal, I intended only for a stumble to wake you, (that you might shrug and rub your eyes, and see in what a naked condition you are,) not a stone of offence for you to fall upon and hurt you. But you are fallen and hurt, and yet do not awake, as if Mercury's rod, or I know not what other force of Magic, still held fast your eyes. You only mutter against the present disturbance, as one shogged while he dreams upon his pillow, but you still sleep. You cry out as one cramped in your bed, but your closed sight can not discern whether it be a friend in sport or for better purpose, or whether it be your foe to torture you. Awake Eugenius! Awake, Behold, it is I, your sportfully troublesome friend, or what you will in due time acknowledge, though in this present drowsy humour you puff at it, and kick against it, Your careful and vigilant brother ALAZONOMASTIX PHILALETHES. ¶ The second Lash of Alazonomastix. SECT. I. Mastix sports himself with Eugenius his Title-page [The man-mouse taken in a trap, etc.] Taxes his indiscretion for dedicating so foul a paper to his grave Tutor. Sleights his friend's Poetry. Apologises for his own liberty of speech. Vindicates himself from that unjust aspersion of being uncivil or immoral by answering to every particular passage alleged against him out of his Observations. Declares the true causes of his writing against Eugenius. ANd now, Eugenius, if it be as lawful to speak to one asleep, as it was for Diogenes to talk to Pillars and Posts that are not in a capacity of ever being awake: Let me tell you (to begin with your Title-page first) that you do very much undervalue and wrong yourself, that you being a Gentleman of that learning and parts that you are, you will thus poorly condescend to that contemptible trade of a Mous-catcher: And that you are not content to abuse yourself only, but you do abuse Scripture too, by your ridiculous applying St. Paul's fight with beasts at Eph●sus, to your combating with, and overcoming of a mouse. Truly, Philalethes, I think, they that have the meanest opinion of you, would give you their suffrage for a taller office than this, and adjudge you at least worthy of the place of a Rat-catcher. As for your Epistle Dedicatory, I conceive you have a very indulgent Tutor, else you would not be so bold to utter so foul language in his hearing. You have a very familiar friend of him, if you can without breach of civility thus freely vomit up your figs into his bosom. But for P. B. of Oxenford his verses, I will only set this one verse of Virgil's against them all; Qui Bavium non odit, amet tua carmina Maevi. Thus you sre how gladly I would rid myself of all your foul language and fooleries. I have nimbly run through these. I shall leap over the rest as so many dirty ditches. Your slovenly speeches and uncivil raylings, you must seek an answer for them in Billingsgate or amongst the Butchers; Nobis non licet esse tam disertis. But where you bring any thing that bears any show of reason with it, I will (though it be far below me to answer so foul a mouth) return what in the judgement of the sober, I hope will not fail to be approved as satisfactory. Pag. 4, and 5. In these page's yo● accuse me of very high incivility and immorality. And it is an accusation worth the answering, especially being set off with that great aggravation of being committed against one that is a Christian. But verily, Philalethes. I do not meet with any man now that takes you to be such, after this specimen, as I call it, of your Kainish and unchristian dealing with me, whom indifferent judges will not think to have deserved the hundredth part of this revenge. I tell thee, Eugenius, there is no Christian but who is partaker of the holy unction, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, of the divine Nature, and of that pure and peaceable love. But if thou thinkest thy mere Baptism will make thee a Christian (while in the mean time thy heart is possessed of uncleanness and hatred, which the law of Christ interprets murder) the heathen Poet is able to show thee thy gross error in this point; Ah nimium faciles! qui tristia crimina caedis Flumine â tolli posse putatis aquâ, Oh fools and credulous! that think you may By water wash sad guilt of blood away. But to the accusation and charge itself which is this, That I say you are Simon Magus-like, a Heated Noddle, a Mome, a Mimic, an Ape, a mere Animal, a Snail, a Philosophic hog, a Nip-crust, a Pickpocket, a Niggard, Tom fool with a devil's head and horns, one that desires to be a Conjurer more than a Christian. This is the first part of your charge. But before I answer to the particulars of it, or proceed to the other, these two things are to be noted; First, that you have drained all the sharper humour that was but thinly dispersed through the body of my book into two narrow places, that you may make them appear like two angry boils, or malignant bushes in the body which if it were done in the soundest body that is there would be the like seeming distemper. Se●ondly, it is to be considered that I did profess that I would put myself in some seeming posture of harshness and incivility, that I might show you your own real miscarriage to others, by imitating and personating the same toward yourself. But the thing that I contend for now, is, that this personated incivility and harshness of mine is nothing so harsh and uncivil as you do here make it, as will appear from the causes or occasional circumstances of this hard language you have thus culled out. For to begin with the first; You having a design to seem no small thing in the World, and also pretending to Magic; how easily how naturally does it fall into the mind of a man, to compare you to Simon Magus in these regards? And if you did not walk as all touchy proud men do, as it were with their skins flean off, such a light thing as this would not smart nor hurt you so sore. Heated noddle. That's the only mischief of it that it is true, and your flame and smoke is as conspicuous as that of AEtna and Vesuvius: — Quis enim celaverit ignem? Enitet indicio prodita flamma suo. For who can fire conceal? whose flame shoots out And shining shows itself to all about. As your heat and fire has sufficiently done, especially in this your last against me, to your great credit; I am sure to mine, for you have writ so, as if you intended to save me from all suspicion of being mistaken in you. A Mome, a Mimic, and an Ape. I only said that you were more like those than Aristotle: And if you distrust my judgement, I pray you ask any body else. And to call you a mere Animal occasionally in our dispute, Whether the world be an Animal or no; what rudeness is there in it? worse than this is held no incivility between those two famous Phlosophers Cardan and Scaliger, whom your Magisterialnesse has made bold to use at least as coursely as I seem to have used you. But you would it seems have the whole Monopoly of reprehension to yourself. And much good may it do you Eugenius! My generous liberty of speech has been so well entertained by ●ome in the world that I shall take up that prudential resolution for the future, Si populus decipi vult, decipiatur. A Snail. But that a poor snail should stick in your stomach so, Philalethes, I much wonder at it. Certainly as fair as you bid for a Magician, yet I perceive you will be no Gipsy by your abhorrency from this food. But a Philosophic Hog: There's a thwacking contumely indeed. Truly you are young, Eugenius: and I pray you then please yourself, if you had rather be called a Philosophic pig. But than you would be afraid that some Presbyterian may click you up for a tithe-pig, and eat you. (This is a pig of your own sow, Philalethes, a piece of your own wit.) But being a Philosophic pig you may be secure: That's too tough meat for every country Presbyter. But I prithee Phil. why art thou so offended at the term of Philosophic Hog? The meaning is only, That thou wouldst pretend to see invisible essences, as that creature is said to see the wind. Does Christ call himself thief, when he says his coming shall be as a Thief in the Night? Peace for shame Caviller, peace. Niggard and Nip-crust, viz. of your Theomagical notions. That's all I said, and I am such a Nip-crust and Niggard of my speech, that I will say no more. Pick-poket, To this I answer fully at Observ. 26. where I show thee that there being no suspicion at all of any such fact in you, it makes the conceit harmless and without scurrility. And as little scurrilous is that which follows, viz. Tom fool with the Devil's head and horns. For my speaking of it in such such sort as I did, implies only that I look upon you, as a merry wag, playing the child and fooling behind the hangings, and putting out your head by fits, with a strange vizard to scare or amaze your familiar comrades and companions. And I pray you what bitterness is in all this? But you have made the foulest, ugliest vizard for me in this your book, and put it on my head, to make the world believe that I were both Fool and Devil incorporate into one person. And this you have done out of malice, Magicus, and implacable revenge. But I wish you had some black bag or vail, to hide your shame from the world: That is the worst I wish you. One that desires to be a Conjurer more than to be a Christian: If you like not Conjurer write Exorcist. That's all I would have meant by it. There is a Conjuring out as well as Conjuring up the devil. And I wish you were good at the former of these, for your own sake. But now to apply my Emollient to the other boil you have made in the body of my little book. You have made the sharp humour swell into this second bunch by your unnatural draining. A fool in a play, a jack-pudding, a Thing wholly set in a posture to make the people laugh, a giddy fantastic Conjurer, a poor Kitling, a Calfshead, a Pander, a sworn enemy to Reason, a shuttle scull, no good Christian, an Otter, a water-Rat, Will with the wisp, and Meg with the Lan●horn, Tom fool in a play, a natural fool. A fool in a play, a jack-pudding, etc. Let the Reader consult the place if there be not a seasonable occasion of reminding you of your over much lightness, you taking so grave a task upon you as to be a public professor of Theomagicks. A giddy fantastic Conjurer. No Conjurer there but a Fantastic. I admit in you the lesser fault to discharge you of the greater. Is this to revile you, or befriend you? A poor Kitling. Poor Kitling! Take it into thy lap, Phil. and struck it gently: I warrant thee it will not hurt thee. Be not so shy, why thou art akin to it, Phil. by thy own confession. For thou art a Mous-catcher which is near akin to a Cat, which is also a catcher of mice: and a Cat is sire to a Kitling. A Calfs-head. I did not call thee Calfshead. Eugenius, but said that no Chemist could extract any substantial visible form out of thy brains, whereby they may be distinguished from what lies in a Calfshead. And there is a vast difference in simply calling you Pander, and calling you Pander to Madam Nature; who, you confess, complains of your prostitutions. A sworn enemy to Reason. Why, Do you not pray against reason, A logicâ libera nos Domine? And I think any body would swear you are a real enemy to that you pray against, unless your devotions be but a mockery. A shuttle scull. My words were, Did your sculler or shuttle skull. I hope you do not think, that I meant your skull was so slew and shallow that boys might shuttle it, and make ducks and drakes on the water with it, as they do with oyster-shells: Or that yourself was so Magical, that you could row to the crystal rock in it, as witches are said to do on the Seas in Eggshells. Excuse me Phil. I meant no such high mysteries. It was only a pitiful dry clinch, as light as any nutshell: something like that jingle of thine, Nation and Indignation. No good Christian. In that place you bade us show you a good Christian, and you would etc. There I infer, that (you being at all other times so ready to show yourself, and here you slinking back) you were conscious to yourself that you were no good Christian. Otter and Water-Rat. I said only that you did waddle on toward the river Vsk like an Otter or Water-Rat. Will with the wisp, and Meg with the Lantern. I do not call you Will, nor Meg: but tell you, If you walk by River sides and Marish places, you may well meet with such companions there as those, to take a turn or two with you. Tom-fool in a play. Why, is not your name Tom? They tell me it is Tom Vaughan of jesus College in Oxford. Well then Tom, Do not you make yourself an Actor in a play? For these are your words: I will now withdraw and leave the stage to the next Actor. So here is Tom in the play. But where is the fool? say you. Where is the wisest man? say I. Myself says Tom Vaughan I warrant you. Why, then say I, Tom Vaughan is Tom fool in the play. For the fool in the play is to be the wisest man, according to the known proverb. But how will ye wipe off that aspersion of calling me natural fool? says wise Tom. That indeed I confess impossible, because it was never yet laid on. I said only, if you had answered the Aristoteleans Sic probo's, with mere laughter, you would have proved yourself a natural fool. But he hath not done so, nor is Tom Vaughan a natural fool, I dare swear for him. He has too much natural heat to be a natural fool. Bless thee from madness, Tom, and all will be well. But there is yet something else behind, worse than all this: That all these terms of incivility must proceed from spite and provocation. And this you place betwixt the two bilious tumors you have raised, as a ductus communis, or common channel to convey the sharp malignant humour to swell them to the full. It is true, my words run thus; That I have been very fair with you, and though provoked, etc. But this was spoken in the person of an Aristotelean, whom your scornful usage of their Master Aristotle you may be sure did and does provoke. But in good truth, Philalethes, you did not provoke me at all with your book, unless to laugh at you for your Puerilities. ay, but you have an argument for it, that I was provoked, viz. Because your theomagical discourse has so out done or undone my Ballad of the Soul (as you scornfully call it) that my ignorance in the Platonic Philosophy has now appeared to the world. O rem ridiculam! Thou art a merry Greek indeed, Philalethes, and art set upon't to make the world sport. Thou dost then profess openly to all the world; that thou hast so high a conceit of thy Anthroposophia, that it may well dash me out of countenance with my Philosophical Poems; and that through envy, I being thus wounded, I should by my Alazonomastix endeavour for the ease of my grief, to abate thy credit. What a Suffenus art thou in the esteeming of thy own works, O Eugenius? and of what a pitiful spirit dost thou take Alazonomastix to be? I do profess ex animo, that I could heartily wish that myself were the greatest Ignaro in the world, upon condition I were really no more ignorant than I am: So little am I touched with precellency or outstripping others. (But thou judgest me to have wrote out of the same intoxicating Principle that thou thyself hast, that is, vain glory.) Or however if there was any thing of that wh●n I wrote those Poems, which, I thank God, if any, was very little; yet long ago (I praise that power that enabled me) I brought it down to a degree far less than thy untamed Heat for the present can imagine possible. But you'll say, This is a mystery above all Magic. What then was the Impulsive of writing against your book? I have told you already, but you are loath to believe me: Mere enmity to immorality and foolery. But if it were any thing that might respect myself, it was only this; That you so carelessly and confidently adventuring upon the Platonic way, with so much tainted heat and distemper, that to my better composed spirit you seemed not a little disturbed in your fancy, and your blood to be too hot to be sufficiently rectified by your brain, I thought it safe for me to keep those Books I wrote out of a spirit of soberness from reproachful mistake: For you pretending the same way that I seem to be in, as in your bold and disadvantageous asserting, The soul to pre-exist, and to come into the body open-eyed as it were, that is, full fraught with divine notions; and making such outrageously distorted delineaments of that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as the Stoics call it, the enlivened Universe, with sundry other passages of like grossness, I was afraid that men judging that this affectation of Platonisme in you, might well proceed from some intemperies of blood and spirit; and that, there no body else besides us two dealing with these kinds of notions, they might yoke me with so disordered a companion as yourself: Reasoning thus with themselves; Vaughan of jesus in Oxenford holds the pre-existencie of the Soul, and other Platonic Paradoxes, and we see what a pickle he is in: What think you of More of Christ's, that writ the Platonical Poems? Nay, what think you of Platonisme itself? Surely, it is all but the fruit of juvenile distemper and intoxicating heat. But I say, it is the most noble and effectual Engine to fetch up a man's mind to true virtue and holiness, next to the Bible, that is extant in the world. And that this may not suffer, I have suffered myself to observe upon you what I have observed, my young Eugenius. This is true, my Friend, to use your own phrase. SECT. II. Mastix provoked by the unworthy surmises of Eugenius, gives the world a taste of that Spirit that actuated him when he wrote his Poems. Eugenius his abuse of Des-Cartes the greatest personal Impulsive to Mastix to write his Observations. The Divine accomplishments of the Soul far beyond all natural knowledge. What is true Deiformitie. A vehement Invective against the Deified rout of Ranters and Libertines. Mastix magnifies the dominion of his own mind over the passions of the body, preferring it before the Empire of the world, and all the power of Magic that Eugenius so bankers after. ANd now that the World may know that I have not wrote like some bestrid Pythonick or hackneyed Enthusiastic, let them look and read under what light I sat and sung that divine Song of the Soul. But yet, my Muse, still take an higher flight, Sing of Platonic Faith in the first Good, That Faith that doth our souls to God unite So strongly, tightly, that the rapid stood Of this swift flux of things, nor with foul mud Can slain, nor strike us off from th' Unity Wherein we steadfast stand, unshaked, unmoved, Engrafted by a deep Vitality. The prop and stay of things is God's Benignity. Als is the rule of His Oeconomie, No other cause the creature brought to light, But the first Goods pregnant fecundity: He to himself is perfect-full delight. He wanteth nought. With his own beams bedight He glory has enough. O blasphemy! That envy gives to God, or sour despite. Harsh hearts! that feign in God a Tyranny Under pretence to increase his sovereign Majesty. When nothing can to Gods own self accrue Who's infinitely happy; sure the end Of His Creation simply was to show His flowing goodness, which He doth outsend Not for himself: for nought can Him amend, But to his Creature doth his good impart. This infinite Good through all the world doth w●nd, To fill with Heavenly bliss each willing heart: So the free Sun doth light and liven every part. This is the measure of God's providence, The Key of knowledge, the first fair Idee, The eye of Truth, the spring of living Sense, Whence sprout God's secrets, the sweet mystery Of lasting life, eternal Charity, etc. And elsewhere in my Poems. When I myself from mine own self do quit, And each thing else; then all-spreaden love To the vast Universe my soul doth fit, Makes me half equal to allseeing jove. My mighty wings high stretched then clapping light, I brush the stars and make them shine more bright. Then all the works of God with close embrace I dearly hug in my enlarged arms, All the hid paths of heavenly love I trace, And boldly listen to his secret charms, Then clearly view I where true light doth rise, And where eternal Night low-pressed lies, etc. This, Philalethes, is that lamp of God in the light whereof my Reason and Fancy have wrought thus many years. This is that true Chemical fire that has purged my soul and purified it, and has crystallized it into a bright Throne and shining Habitation of the divine Majesty. This free light is that, which having held my soul in itself for a time; taught me in a very sensible manner ●hat vast difference betwixt the truth and freedom of the Spirit, and anxious impostures of this dark Personalïty and earthly bondage of the body. This is my Oracle, my Counsellor, my faithful Instructor and Guide, my Life, my Strength, my Glory, my Joy, my communicated God. This is that heavenly flame and bright Sun of Righteousness, that puts out the light, and quenches the heat of all worldly imaginations, and desires whatsoever. All the power and knowledge in Nature, that is, all the feats and miraculous performances done by Witches, Magicians, or Devils, they be but toys and tricks, and are no solid satisfaction of the soul at all, (yea, though we had that power upon lawful terms) if compared with this. And as for divine knowledge, there is none truly so called, without it. He that is come hither, God hath taken him to his own familiar friend, and though he speak to others aloof off in outward Religions and Parables, yet he leads this man by the hand, teaching him intelligible documents upon all the objects of his Providence; speaks to him plainly in his own language; sweetly insinuates himself, and possesses all his faculties, Understanding, Reason, and Memory. This is the Darling of God, and a Prince amongst men, far above the dispensation of either Miracle or Prophecy. For him the deep searchers and anxious solicitors of Nature drudge and toil, contenting themselves with the pitiful wages of vain glory, or a little wealth. Poor Giboonites! that how wood and draw water for the Temple. This is the Temple of God, this is the Son of God, whom he hath made heir of all things, the right Emanuel, the holy mystery of the living members of Christ Hallelujah. From this Principle which I have here expressed, have all those Poems I have wrote had their Original: and as many as are moved with them aright, they carry them to this Principle from whence they came. But to those, whose ignorance makes them contemn them, I will only say to them what our Saviour said to Nicodemus; The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but knowest not from whence it comes, nor whither it goes. But I am afraid I have stood all this time in a little too high a station for thee, my Philalethes: I descend now and come a little nearer to thee. And now I tell thee further, that thy rash and unworthy abuse of Des-Cartes did move me to write so as I did, more than any personal regard else whatsoever. For I love the Gentleman for his excellent and transcendent natural wit, and like his Philosophy as a most rational, coherent, subtle piece, and an Hypothesis accurately and continuedly agreeing with the Phaenomena of Nature. This is he whom thou callest my fellow fool, to thy own great disparagement. But this is he that I call the wisest Naturalist that ever came to my hands. And having not had the good hap to light on such a rare piece of my own invention, I thought it was the best office I could do the world to bestow my judgement & censure of his. And so now you will say I am become so great a Cartesian that I begin to think but meanly of Platonisme. A wise inference! as if divine and natural knowledge were inconsistent. I tell thee no, Philalethes: Nor am I become cold to my own Poems. For I say that that divine spirit and life that lies under them, is worth not only all the Magic that thou pretendest to, but all that thou art ignorant of beside, yea, and Des-Cartes his Philosophy to boot. ●I say it is worth all that a thousand times told over. Des-Cartes Philosophy is indeed a fine neat subtle thing, but for the true ornament of the mind bears no greater proportion to that Principle I told you of, than the dry bones of a snake made up elegantly into a hatband, to the royal clothing of Solomon. But other natural Philosophies in respect of Des-Cartes his, are even less than a few chips of wood to a well erected Fabric. But I say that a free divine universalized spirit is worth all. How lovely, how magnificent a state is the Soul of man in, when the life of God inactuating her, shoots her along with himself through Heaven and Earth, makes her unite with, and after a sort feel herself animate, the whole world, as if she had become God and all things? This is the precious clothing and rich ornament of the mind, far above reason or any other experiment. And in this attire thou canst not but dance to that Music of the Sibyl. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. I am jehovah, (well my words perpend) Clad with the frory sea, all mantled over With the blue Heavens, shod with the Earth I wend, The stars about me dance, th' Air doth me cover. This is to become Deiform, to be thus suspended (not by imagination, but by union of life, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, joining centres with God) and by a sensible touch to be held up from the clotty dark Personality of this compacted body. Here is love, here is freedom, here is justice and equity in the superessential causes of them. He that is here, looks upon all things as one, and on himself, if he can then mind himself, as a part of the whole. And so hath no self-interest, no unjust malicious plot, no more than the hand hath against the foot, or the ear against the eye. This is to be godded with God, and Christed with Christ, if you be in love with such affected language. But you, O ye cages of unclean birds, that have so be godded yourselves, that you are grown foul and black like brutes or devils, what will become of you? O you sinks of sin! You that have heretofore followed religion to excuse you from real righteousness and holiness, and now have found a trick to be abominably wicked without any remorse of conscience. You are Gods and Goddesses every bit of you, and all actions in you divine. He leads you up into the bed of a whore, and uncases you both for the unclean Act. And when you tell obscene stories in a rapture, you are caught up into God. O you foul mouths! You blebs of venery, you bags of filth! You dishonour of Christendom and reproach of men! Is not all this righteously come upon you, because you never sought after Religion, as a thing within you, holy, and divine; but as an excuse to save you from wrath, and yet to remain in your sins? But that cannot be: You are in the fuel of wrath while you are in your sins, and that fuel will be set on fire some time or other. But that you may be secure of wrath you say there is no sin, but that it is only a conceit and a name. Is it not a sin to be less happy ten thousand times then God would have you? Doth not both Sense and Reason discover to you, (I am sure it doth to others) that you walk in the ways of Hell and death? But you are still secure, you yourselves are as much God as any thing else is, and so you may make your Hell as favourable to yourselves as you please; But O you fools and blind! I see you cannot; but you are entangled with the cords and snares that the divine Nemesis hath laid for the wicked in all the parts of the world. But you are not yet any thing moved, O ye dead in trespasses and sins! For there is no God, say you, more than a dog or a horse is God. Behold, O ye forlorn wretches and miserably mistaken! Behold, He is come down to you: nay, He is ever with you, and you see him not. Ask of him, and He shall answer you. Demand of him, and He shall declare unto you, not in obscure words or dark sayings, not in enigmatical speeches or parables; but He will speak unto your own reason and faculties which he hath given you: propound therefore unto him why you think the Soul of man is mortal, and why you deny an omnipotent and omniscient God distinct from Nature and particular Being's: propound unto him, and He will plainly answer you. But alas! alas! your are neither fit to hear, nor able to propound, for you have destroyed those faculties that he hath given you by sinning against the light of them; and now you have drunk out your eyes, you swear there is no Sun in the Firmament: and now you have whored away your brains, you are confident there is no God. O sunk and helpless generation! how have you sopped and soaked, overflown and drowned the highest seat and Acropolis of your soul, that through your sensuality it is grown as rotten and corrupt as a dunghill? You have made yourselves as fit to judge of reason, as if your heads were stuffed with wet straw. These things hath the divine Indignation uttered against you, but more for reproof then reproach. But your sin hath made you sottish, and your sottishness confident and secure. But his anger burns against you; O you false Religionists! and the wrath of God will overtake you when you are not aware: and your shame shall ascend up like the smoke of the bottomless pit, and your stink shall be as the filthiness in the valley of the children of Hinnom. This will be the portion of all those that barter away sound reason and the sober faculties of the soul for boisterous words of vanity, and unsettled conceits of Enthusiasts, that having neither reason, nor Scripture, nor conspicuous miracle, row down with the stream of men's corruptions, and ripen and hasten the unclean part in man, to a more full and speedy birth of sin and ungodliness. But what's all this to me? saith Philalethes. I tell thee, Phil. I neither wrote before nor do I now write only for thy sake, but for as many as my writings may reach for their good. Nor am I out of my wits as some may fond interpret me in this divine freedom. But the love of God compelled me. Nor am I at all, Philalethes, enthusiastical. For God doth not ride me as a horse, and guide me I know not whither myself; but converses with the as a friend, and speak● to me in such a Dialect as I understand fully, & can make others understand, that have not made shipwreck of the faculties that God hath given them, by superstition or sensuality: for with such I cannot converse because they do not converse with God; but only pity them, or am angry with them, as I am merry and pleasant with thee. For God hath permitted to me all these things, and I have it under the broad seal of Heaven. Who dare charge me? God doth acquit me. For he hath made me full Lord of the four elements, and hath constituted me Emperor of the world. I am in the fire of choler, and am not burned: In the water of phlegm, and am not drowned: In the airy sanguint, and yet not blown away with every blast of transient pleasure, or false doctrines of men: I descend also into the sad earthy Melancholy, and yet am not buried from the sight of my God. I am, Philalethes, (though I dare say thou takest me for no bird of Paradise) Incola coeli in terra, an inhabitant of Paradise and Heaven upon Earth: and the white stone is mine, however thou scramblest for the Philosopher's stone. (I wish thou hadst them both, that is all the harm I wish thee.) I still the raging of the sea, I clear up the souring Heavens, and with my breath blow away the clouds. I sport with the beasts of the Earth, the Lion licks my hand like a Spaniel, and the Serpent sleeps upon my lap and stings me not. I play with the fowls of Heaven, and the birds of the Air sit singing on my fist. All the Creation is before me, and I call every one of them by their proper names. This is the true Adam, O Philalethes: This is Paradise, Heaven, and Christ. All these things are true in a sober sense. And the Dispensation I live in, is more happiness above all measure, then if thou couldst call down the Moon so near thee by thy Magic charms that thou mightest kiss her, as she is said to have kissed Endymion, or couldst stop the course of the Sun, or which is all one, with one stamp of thy foot, stay the motion of the Earth. All this external power in Nature were but as a shop of trinkets and toys, in comparison of what I have declared unto you. And an adulterous generation only seeks after a sign, or idiots, such as love to stare on a dexterous juggler when he plays his tricks. And therefore they being of so little consideration in themselves; I see and am satisfied why miracles are no more frequent in the world. God intends an higher dispensation, and greater happiness for these later times, wherein Divine Love and Reason, and for their sakes Liberty will lay claim to the stage. For He will as I told you draw us with the cords of a man, not ride us as with a bridle-like a horse, or tug us along like a mad star in a band. He will sanctify our inward faculties, and so take possession of the Earth. But that a man may not deplore what is lamentable, or be angry at what is injurious to God or Goodness, or laugh at what is ridiculous, this is not any part of that Law that is made manifest in the Heavenly life, but the arbitrarious precepts of supercilious Stoics, or surly Superstitionists. For God hath sanctified and will sanctify all these things. Nor am I at all mad or fanatic in all this, O you unexperienced and unwise! For as our Saviour said of his body, Touch me and handle me: so say I of my soul: feel and try all the faculties of it if you can find any crack or flaw in them. Where is my Reason inconsequent or inconsistent with the Attributes of God, the common Notions of men, the Phaenonema of Nature or with itself? Where is my Fancy distorted, unproportionate, unproper? But for the bottom of all these, that, I confess, you cannot reach to nor judge of, that is divine sense, the white stone, in which there is a name written that none can read but he that hath it. But for the guidance of my reason and imagination, they have so safe a Steersman, viz. that Divine touch of my soul with God, and the impregnation of my Understanding from the most High; that judgement and caution have so warily built the outward fabric of words and fancy, that I challenge any man to discover any ineptitude in them, or incoherencie. And now verily the serious consideration of these weighty matters hath so composed my mind, that I find it some difficulty to discompose it into a temper childish enough to converse with my young Eugenius. But as high as I have taken my station, I will descend, and go less myself, to bring him to what is greater. Behold, I leap down as from the top of some white rocky cloud, upon the grassy spot where my Philalethes stands, and I shall now begin the game of my personated Enmity, or sportful Colluctation with him. SECT. III. Eugenius his skill in Grammar, Rhetoric and Logic. That an Essential definition doth not pretend to set out to us the very naked substance of the thing defined. That the frame of the World is not like the inanimate frame of an house according to the Aristoteleans. Mastix his excuse for the manner of writing against Eugenius, from his want of knowledge of either his name or person. His Further justification of himself from the warrantable end of his enterprise. His dexterous discovery of the grand folly of his vaunting Adversary, and serious exhortation to him to lay aside his vain affectation of Magic and to become a good Christian. Pag. 7. lin. 14. HIgh swollen words of vanity, I tell you, I have found them in your Ballad. Ballad is a good old English word, from which I abhor no more than Spencer, or Lucretius from old Latin, who yet was something younger than Tully. Is not the song of Solomon called the Ballad of Ballads, in some Church-bibles? Thou art so angry that thou art not able to rail with judgement. But what high swollen words of vanity are there in that Ballad of mine? Thou art so ignorant, that terms of Art seem Heathen Greek to thee. But for those words that I interpreted for the ignorants sake (you see what care I have of you, O unthankful Eugenius!) there is an Apology prefixed that will satisfy the ingenuous, and for others it matters not. Pag. 9 Lin. 15. With a Bull rampant. You bestow upon me many Bulls, Eugenius: But when you are so kind as to give me them for nothing, you may well expect that I will be so thankful, as to return you a Calf for every Bull I have gratis. Let us begin, etc. And you indeed have done your part already. The sense is, But you indeed have done your part already: What is this but an 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉? But you have I see as little skill in Rhetoric as Civility. The Calf take thee, Phil. or take thou the Calf. There is one to begin thy herd. Pag. 10. Lin. 1. What, both Tell-truths? Before thou wast no Rhetorician, now thou art no Logician nor Philosopher, that canst not distinguish betwixt Verity and veracity. veracity is enough to make a Tom Telltruth, though his Narration be false. Hence it is demonstrable that two men may be both Tel-troths, though their stories be point-blank contrary to one another. The sense of my words is this; You have told what you thought Aristotle was unblamable in: I will now tell what I think you are unblamable in. You may be against Aristotle, and I for him, and both with veracity, though not with verity. Pag. 11. Lin. 2●. Found out some new truth. Yes, I say, there are passages in your book, that imply so much at least. We shall see when we come at them: and I shall show that you found them before they were lost. Pag. 12. Lin. 17. The third project is the same with the first. Why, is to be skilful in Art magic, and to find out new truths all one? It seems than you suppose there are no new Truths to be found out but Magical ones. Blessed age that we live in! All other arts are brought to their Non plus ultrá. Physicians, Geometricians, Astronomians, Astrologians, Musicians, put up your pipes. Claudite jam rivos pueri. There is nothing remains to be done by you. All is perfected. But let me ask you one sober question, Phil. Have you gone through all these Arts and throughly understand them, that you do so boldly pronounce them complete and perfect? I know Philalethes is not so immodest as to say so; I am sure the world is not so foolishly credulous as to believe so. So that I must conclude, Eugenius, that thou art so outrageously distempered in thy mind, that thou art a weaker Arithmetician than the rude Thracians. They told to fourer Thou art out at three, and must begin again. Pag. 13. Lin. 11. How many more syllables in Anthroposophia, then in Antipsychopannychia? Not so many. So that if I had affected to be so Magical as your learned self, the same conceit would have fitted my Title-page. But I begin now to suspect, you are so nimble at comparing, that your Title-page was a kind of Apish Imitation of mine in the first Edition of my Song of the Soul. But wast thou so simple as to think that any body thought better of my book for those hard words in the Frontispiece of it? I only set them there as a windmill on a stack of corn, by the clack of it to scare away sparrows and crows, that it might be reserved entire for men. But I perceive for all that, that, thy Rooks bill has been pecking there. But much good may it do thee, Phil. I envy it thee not. Pag. 15. Lin. 20. Vim sermonis esse in verbis, etc. I say, the force and warrant both of Nouns and Verbs is from their use, Quem penes arbitrium est, & jus, & norma loquendi. But if you will have, Orator, to be good and proper: this Epistle of yours must then be no Epistle, though you call it so, but an Oration to the Fratres R. C. which you spoke to them when they were God knows where, and they will answer you God knows when. Verily, Philalethes, thou art a fine fellow to have made an Orator of in King Midas his time; for he had, they say, very long ears: And so mightest thou have made an Oration before the King in his absence. Pag. 17. Lin. 21. A twofold Definition, Accidental and Essential. That's true, Phil. what Freshman but knows that? But how it is to be understood I perceive thou dost not know. I am ashamed that I must be fain to rub up in thee the very first rudiments of Logic, or rather teach thee them. For couldst thou ever forget what is meant by Accidental, what by Essential? Accidental is that which may be or not be in a thing, and yet the thing be: As a horse may be a horse, be it black or white. Essential is that which so belongs to the thing to which it is said to be Essential, that the thing cannot be conceived to exist without it; Now, say I, these Faculties of Understanding, Reason, and Sense are essential to the Soul of man, because we cannot conceive a Soul without a power or faculty of understanding, reasoning, etc. And Aristotle has defined a Soul from these. Therefore would a Peripatetic say, with an Essential Definition: But Eugenius, No: This is but circumstantial, says he. Therefore I do infer, Eugenius, that thou dost dream of knowing the very naked substance of the Soul; which thou wilt as soon know, as see the wind. And thus I spoke to that that thou must needs mean, if thou meanest any thing: but it is a plain case, thou dost not know thy own meaning. But Aristotle doth sufficiently countenance mine, with what he has very luckily let fall somewhere in his Analytics; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. And thus is it manifestly true in that sense that you yourself meant; That the very essence of any Substance is not to be known, nor is there any such Essential Definition. This is as true, Tom. Vaughan, as two and two are four, though I do not call you Owl for your ignorance, as you do me for my knowledge. But we shall have another bout again with this, in your Anima Magica Abscondita. Pag. 19 to the 24. To have made the world as a Carpenter, of stone and timber. Thou hast misplaced a comma in the sentence to make a Cavil. Put on thy spectacles, and see if there be any comma before of in my Book. If you understood common sense you could not but understand, that my meaning is this; That you tax the Peripatetics for fancying God to have made the world as a Carpenter makes houses of stone and timber. Now pitiful Caviller! But to the point. I say this is a false taxation, Eugenius: For the parts of the world, according to the Peripatetics own doctrine, are set in this order they are, from an inward principle of motion, and their own proper qualities: so that they do as the stones and trees are said to have done at the music of Orpheus and Amphion, move of themselves. But the stone and timber in the work of a Carpenter, do not move themselves into their places they ought to be, for the building up of an house. But you answer two things to this: First, that the parts of the world do not move themselves: Secondly, that if they do, than they have infusion of life. To the first: Why, does not any part of the earth move itself downward, if it be in an higher place than is natural to it, and the air and fire upward, etc. and this from an inward principle of motion? Nay, is not the very definition of Nature, Principium motûs & quietis, etc. wherefore we see plainly, that according to the Aristoteleans, all to the very concave of the Moon have an inward principle of motion. And for the Heavens themselves, the most sober and cautious of the Peripatetics hold them to be moved from an inward Principle, their Forma informans, as they call it. So that though they do not allow life infused into the world, yet they allow an inward principle of motion in natural bodies, which is their Substantial Forms, by virtue whereof they are ranged in this order as we see; or at least according to which they are thus ranged and ordered. And this is not so dead a business as the Carpenters building with stone and timber. But in the second place you say, That if they have this motion from an inward principle, than they have also infusion of life. But do not you see plainly, that (according to the mind of the more sober Peripatetics) they have motion from an inward Principle? Therefore you should have been so far from taxing them to look upon God as a Carpenter, that you should have concluded rather that they held infusion of life. Pag. 24. Lin. 1. Thou hast abused me basely. Verily, if that were true I should be very forrie for it: For I would not willingly abuse any man living, of what condition soever. But the thing has happened unluckily. I read thy Book, I knew not thy person, nor thy name, nor thy nature, further than it was expressed in thy Book, which did not represent it so ill as now I find it. If I had thought my Galenical purge had met with such a constitution, I should have tempered it more carefully: For I delight not in the vexation of any man. The truth is, my scope in writing that Book was laudable and honest, and such as might become a very good Christian, and my mirth and pleasantness of mind much and real; but the sharpness of my style personated, and aristotelical; and therefore being but affected and fictitious, I felt it not, there was no corrosion at all; but all that was unkind in it, (if you will call that passion unkindness) was a certain light indignation that I bore, and ever do bear, against magnificent folly. And there being no name to your Book, I thought I had the opportunity of doing it with the least offence, as meeting with the thing disjoined and singled from the person. But I ver●ly think I should not have meddled at all, if you had spared your incivilities to Des-Carters, whose worth and skill-in natural Philosophy (be it fate or judgement that constrains me to it, let the world judge) I cannot but honour and admire. He is railed at, but not confuted by any that I see, in his natural Philosophy, and that's the thing I magnify him for. Though his Metaphysics have wit and strength enough too, and he hath made them good against his opposers. Line 21. And assure thyself I will persecute thee, so long as there is ink or paper in England. Assuredly thou wilt not, Philalethes: For why, I am dead already, taken in thy trap and tortured to death: will not this suffice thee? I am dead, and thou thyself but mortal; wilt thou entertain immortal enmity against me? But how canst thou persecute me being dead? Wilt thou raise my soul up, O Magicus, by thy Necromancy? and then combat with me over my grave? I hope thou art but in jest, Eugenius: If thou be'st not, I must tell thee in good earnest, thy present bitterness will make thee Simon Magus-like, as well as thy former boasting. O thou confounded and undone thing! how hast thou shamed thyself! Thy vizard is fallen off, and thy sanctimonious clothing torn from about thee, even as it was with the Apes and Monkeys, that being attired like men and wearing vizards over their faces did dance, and cringe, and kiss, and do all the gestures of men so artificially & becomingly, that the Country people took them to be a lesser size of humane race, till a waggish fellow that had more wit than the rest, dropped a few nuts amongst them, for which they fell a scrambling so earnestly, that they tore off their vizards, and to the great laughter of the spectators showed what manner of creatures they were. O Magicus! do not dissemble before me: For thou dost not know with what eyes I behold thee. Were it not better for thee and all the world beside, to make it their business to be really and fully possessed of those things that are undoubtedly good and Christian, nay, indeed if they be had in the right Principle, are the very buds and branches of the tree of Paradise, the limbs and members of the Divine nature, such as are meekness, patience, and humility, discretion, freedom from self-interest, chastity, temperance, equity, and the like: is it not better to seek after these things, then to strain at high words and uncertain flatuous notions that do but puff up the mind and make it seem full to itself, when it is distended with nothing but unwholesome wind? Is not this very true, my dear Philalethes? SECT. IV. The Confutation of Eugenius his World-Animal from the unmerciful disproportion and ugly dissimilitude of the parts thereof compared with a true Animal, reinforced and invincibly confirmed. Pag. 24. WE are now come to that rare piece of Zoography of thine, the world drawn out in the shape of an Animal. But let's view the whole draught as it lies in your book, because you make such a foul noise about it in your answer. Your words are these. Besides the texture of the Universe clearly discovers its Animation. The Earth which is the visible natural Basis of it, represents the gross carnal parts. The element of the water answers to the blood, for in it the pulse of the great world beats; this most men call the flux and reflux, but they know not the true cause of it. The air is the outward refreshing spirit, where this vast creature breathes though invisibly yet not insensibly: The interstellar skies are his vital ethereal waters; and the stars his animal sensual fire. Now to pass my censure on this rare Zoographicall piece, I tell thee, if thy brains were so confusedly scattered as thy fancy is here, thou wert a dead man Philalethes: all the Chemistry in the world could not recover thee. Thou art so unitive a soul, Phil. and such a clicker at the slightest shadows of similitude, that thou wouldst not stick to match chalk and cheese together, I perceive, and mussitate a marriage betwixt an Apple and an Oyster. Even those proverbial dissimilitudes have something of similitude in them, will you then take them for similes that ha●e so monstrous a disproportion and dissimilitude? But you are such a Sophister that you can make any thing good. Let's try. ●he Earth must represent the flesh, because they noth be gross: so is chalk and cheese, or an Apple and an Oyster. But what think you of the Moon? is not that as much green cheese as the Earth is flesh? what think you of Venus, of Mercury, and the rest of the Planets? which they that know any thing in Nature, know to be as much flesh as the Earth is, that is, to be dark and opake as well as she. What! is this flesh of the world then torn apieces and thrown about, scattered here and there like the disjointed limbs of dragged Hippolytus? Go to Phil. where are you now with your fine knacks and similitudes? But to the next Analogy. The element of water answers to the blood. Why? For in it is the pulse of the great world. But didst thou ever feel the pulse of the Moon? And yet is not there water too? thou little, sleepy, heedless Endymion: The blood is restagnant there, I warrant you and hath no pulse. So that the man with the thorn● on his back lives in a very unwholesome region. But to keep to our own station here upon Earth; Dost thou know what thou sayest when thou venturest to name that monosyllable, Pulse, dost thou know the causes and the laws of it? Tell me, my little Philosophaster, where is there in the earth or out of the earth in this World-Animal●of ●of thine, that which will answer to the heart, and the systole and diastole thereof to make this pulse? And besides this, there is wanting rarefaction and universal diffusion of the stroke at once. These are in the pulse of a true Animal, but are not to be found in the Flux of the sea; For it is not in all places at once, nor is the water rarefied where it is. Now my pretty Parabolist, what is there left to make your similitude good for a pulse in your great Animal more than when you spill your pottage, or shog a milk-bowl? But believe it Eugenius, thou wilt never make sense of this Flux and Reflux, till thou calm thy fancy so much as to be able to read Des-Cartes. But to tell us it is thus from an inward form, more Aristotelico; is to tell us no more, then that it is the nature of the Beast, or to make Latin words by adding only the termination bus, as hosibus and shoosibus, as Sir Kenhelm Digby hath with wit and judgement applied the comparison in like case. But now to put the blood, flesh and bones together, of your World-Animal: I say they bear not so great a proportion to the more fluid parts. viz. the vital and animal spirits thereof, as a mite in a cheese to the whole globe of the Earth. So that if thou hadst any fancy or judgement in thee, thy similitude would appear to thine own self outrageously ugly and disproportionable, and above all measure ridiculous: Nor do not think to shuffle it off, by demanding, If there be so little earth, to tell thee where it is wanting. For I only say, that if the world be an Animal, there will be much blood and flesh wanting, Philalethes, for so great a Beast. Nor do not you think to blind my eyes with your own Tobacco smoke, (I take none myself, Eugenius,) For to that over ordinary experiment, I answer two things. First, that as you took upon the parts of the body of a true Animal, in the same extension that they now actually are, not how they may be altered by rarefaction; so you are also look upon the parts of your World-Animal, as they are de facto, extended, not how they may be by rarefaction. And thus your Argument from Tobacco, will vanish into smoke. But if you will change the present condition of any lesser Animal by burning it, and turing many of the gross parts into more thin and fluid, you destroy the ground of your comparison, betwixt the World Animal and it; for you take away the flesh of your lesser Animal thus burnt. And besides, the proportion betwixt the vapour or thinner parts extension to the remaining ashes, is not yet so big, as of the thin parts of the World-Animal in respect of its solid parts, by many thousand and thousand millions. Nay, I shall speak within compass, if I say (as I said before) that there is a greater disproportion than betwixt the globe of the Earth and a mite in a cheese. This is plainly true to any that understands common sense. For the Earth in respect of the World is but as an indivisible point. Add to all this, that if you will rarefie the Tobacco or Hercules body by fire, I will take the same advantage, and say, that the water and many parts of the earth may be also rarefied by fire, and then reckon only upon the remaining ashes of this globe, and what is turned into vapour must be added to the more fluid parts of the World-Animal, to increase that over-proportion. So that thou hast answered most wretchedly and pitifully every way, poor Anthroposophus! But besides, In the second place: When any thing is burnt, as for example, your Tobacco, I say it takes up then no more room than it did before: Because Rarefaction and Condensation is made, per modum spongiae, as a sponge is distended by the coming in, and contracted again by the going out of the water it had imbibed. But the Aristotelic●ll way● which is yours, (O profound Magicus! that hast the luck to pick out the best of that Philosophy) implies I say, gross contradictions, which thou canst not but understand, if thou canst distinguish corporeal from incorporeal Being's. Thy way of Rarefaction and Condensation, O Eugenius, must needs imply penetration of dimensions, or something as incongruous, as every lad in our Universities, at a year or two standing at least, is able to demonstrate to thee. But if thou thinkest it hard, that so little a body as a pipe of Tobacco, should be multiplied into so very much superficies above what it had before, go to those that beat out leaf gold, and understand there how the superficies of the same body may be, to wonder, increased. And beside, I could demonstrate to thee, that a body whose basis thou shouldst imagine at the centre of the Earth, and top as far above the starry Heaven, as it is from thence to the Earth, without any condensation used thereunto, is but equal to a body that will he within the bowl of a Tobacco-pipe. Where art thou now, thou miserable Philosophaster? But to the next Analogy. The air is the outward refreshing spirit, where this vast Creaure breathes. Two things I here object, to show the ineptness and incongruity of this comparison. The one is taken from the office of respiration, which is to refresh by way of refrigerating or cooling. Is not the main end of the lungs to cool the blood, before it enter into the left ventricle of the heart? But thou art so Magical, thou know'st none of these sober and useful mysteries of Nature. All that thou answerest to this is, That we are refreshed by heat as well as by coolness. Why then is that general sufficient to make up your analogy or similitude? This is as well fancied as it is reasoned, when men conclude affirmatively in the second figure. There are laws in fancy too, Philalethes: and I shall show thee anon, how ridiculous thou hast made thyself by transgressing them. If thou meanest by refreshed, to be cheered or restored only, and what ever does this must be ground enough to fancy a respiration; then thou breathest in thy caudle, when thou eatest it, and hast spoilt that conceit of his, that said he never would drink sack whilst he breathed; for if sack do in any sense refresh and comfort a man, it seems he breathes while he drinks. I tell thee, in the Homologi termini of similitudes, there ought to be something in some sort peculiar and restrained, or else it is flat, ridiculous, and nonsense. The other objection was taken from the situation of this air that is to he the matter of Respiration in this great Animal. What a wild difference is there in this? The air that an ordinary Animal breathes in, is external; the air of this World-Animal, internal; so that it is rather wind in the guts, than air for the lungs; and therefore we may well add the Colic to the Anasarca. Is the wind-Colick an outward refreshing spirit, or an inward griping pain? Being thou hast no guts in thy brains, I suspect thy brains have slipped down into thy guts, whither thy tongue should follow to be able to speak sense. Answer now like an 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, O thou man of Magic! He answers, and the point and sting of all the sense of his answer is in the tail of it: pag. 29. lin. 11. and it is their outward refreshing spirit. He means the Earth's and the Waters. O feeble sting! O foolish answer! This only reaches so far as to save the Earth alive from my jugulating objection. The globe of Earth and Water indeed may be still an Animal for all that objection. But thou saidst the whole World was an Animal. What, is the whole world an Animal because the Earth is one? O bundle of simples! (to return thee thine own parcel of ware again, for it belongs not to me) this is as well argued as if thou shouldest say, That a cheese is an Animal, because there is one living mite in it. But that this Earth neither is a breathing Animal, is plain enough: For what respiration, what attraction and reddition of air is there in it? There may be indeed something answering to sweeting and perspiration, nothing to respiration, my good Philalethes. But to show thee thy folly, I will follow thy liberty, and impudently pronounce that a pair of bellows is an Animal. Why, is it not? It has a nose to breathe through, that's plain, the two handles are the two ears, the leather the lungs, and that which is the most seemly analogy of all, the two holes in the backside are the two eyes; as like the eyes in the fore-side of a Crab as ever thou seest any thing in thy life: Look thee, Phil. are they not? You'll say, The analogy of the nose is indeed as plain as the nose on a man's face: But how can the handles be ears, when they stand one behind another? whereas the ears of Animals stand one on one side, and the other on the other side of the head. And then how can the leather be lungs, they being the very outside of its body? Or those two holes eyes? They have neither the situation, as being placed behind, nor office of eyes. Answer me all these objections. O Mastix! I can fully answer them, O Magicus! This is an Animal drawn out according to thine own skill and principles. The leather sayst thou must be no lungs, because it is without. Why then the air must be no air for thy World-Animal to breath, because it is within: And if thou canst dispense with within and without, much more mayst thou with before and behind, or behind and on the sides. So the ears and lungs of this Animal hold good against thee still. Now to preserve my monsters eyes against this Harpy that would scratch them out; They are no eyes say you, because they have not the situation of eyes. But I told thee before, thou makest nothing of situation. But they have not the office of eyes. Why? They can see as much as the eyes of thy World-Animal, for aught thou knowest. I but this Bellows-Animal breathes at these eyes: And have not I showed thee thy World-Animal breathes in his guts? But I will make it plain to thee that those two holes are eyes: For they are two, as the two eyes are; and transmit the thin air through them, as the eyes do the pure light. So that they agree gainly well in the general: As your Respiration in the World-Animal, in refreshing, though by heat, when in others it is by cold. Fie on thee, for a Zoographicall Bungler. These Bellows thou seest is not my Animal but thine, and the learned shall no longer call that instrument by that vulgar name of a pair of Bellows, but Tom Vaughan's Animal. So famous shalt thou grow for thy conceited foolery. The interstellar skies are his vital ethereal waters. Here I object, O Eugenius! that there is an over-proportionated plenty of those waters in thy World-Animal and that thus thou hast distended the skin of thy Animal, God knows how many millions of miles off from the flesh. O prodigious Anasarca! But what dost thou answer here? viz. That I say, that the body which we see betwixt the stars, namely, the interstellar waters, is excessive in proportion. No, I do not say so: but that they are too excessive in proportion to be the fluid parts of a World-Animal. But however, as if I had said so, he goes about to prove, that there is no excess of proportion in them. Dost thou hear, Mastix? says he, Look up and see. Well, I hear, Phil. I look up. But do not chock me under the chin, thou wag, when I look up. Now, what must I see? What a number of bonfires, lamps, and torches are kindled in that miraculous celestial water. Yes, I see them all. I suppose they burn so clear for joy and triumph, that my Reason and Sense have so victoriously overthrown thy Fantastry and Nonsense. But why miraculous waters, Phil? I see the cause: Bonfires and torches burn in the waters. That were a miracle indeed, Eugenius; but that it is a falsity. Thou givest things false names, & then wouldst amaze us with verbal miracles. And the stars his animal sensual fire. What is thy meaning here, little Phil. (For I never called thee to account for this yet) That this World-Animal has sense only in the stars? To call them the eyes of the world is indeed pretty and Poetical. And Plato's delicious spirit may seem to countenance the conceit in that elegant Distich upon his young friend Aster, (which in plain English in Star) whom he instructed in the Art of Astronomy: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Thou viewest the stars, my Star, were I the skies! That I might fix on thee so many eyes. But what, Eugenius, wilt thou venture in Philosophic coolness, to say the sense of thy World-Animal lies in the stars? I prithee, what can those starry eyes spy out of the world? They are very quicksighted, if they can see there, where there is nothing to be seen. But it may be, this Animal turns its eyes inward and views itself, I would Philalethes were such an Animal too; He would then find so much amiss within, that he would forbear hereafter to be so censorious without. But what? is there sense then only in the stars? (For sense can be no where but where there is access for the Animal spirits:) So it seems, the stars must hear as well as see, nay, feel and taste; as they do questionless, as often as they lick in, and eat up that starre-fodder, the vapours, wherewith in Seneca they are fantastically said to be nourished. And thus you see, that Tom Vaughan's Animal, I mean the Bellows now may see at the very same two holes that it breathes at, for he confounds all by his indiscreet fancy. How art thou blown about like a feather in the air, O thou light-minded Eugenius! How vain and irrational art thou in every thing! Art thou the Queen of Sheba, as thy Sanguine a little overflowing thy Choler would dress up thyself to thy soft imagination, and make thee look smugg in thy own eyes? Had that Queen so little manners, in her addresses to so great a Philosopher? No, thy language in all thy book, is the language of a scold and of a slut. And for thy wit, if thou wilt forgo thy right to the ladle and bells, thy feminine brains, as thou callest them, may lay claim to the maid-marians place in the Morris-dance: while my strong cruds, (as thou termest my masculine understanding) which are as sweet as strong, not tainted with the fumes of either revenge or Venery, shall improve their utmost strength, for the interest of Truth and Virtue. And thus have I taken all thy Outworks, Eugenius, yea and quite demolished them. Yet now I look better about me, there is I perceive, one Halfmoon standing still. Wherefore have at thy Lunatic answer to that which thou callest my Lunatic argument, which thou propoundest thus; That the Flux and Reflux cannot be the pulse of the great World, because it proceeds, from the Moon, not from the Sun. I say, Philalethes, The Sun being the heart of the world, according to those that be more discreetly fantastical (consult Dr. Fludd, thou art but a bad chip of that block) it was to be expected, if thou wouldst have the Flux and Reflux to be the Pulse, that it should come from the Sun, that is reputed the heart of the world; but it comes from the Moon. To this you answer; That it comes no more from the Moon, then from that fictitious Anti-selene or Anti-moon, as you venture to call it. You say thus, but prove nothing. But there is such an apparent connexion betwixt this Phaenomenon of the Flux and Reflux, and so constant with the course of the Moon, that it is even unimaginable but that there should be the relation of cause and effect betwixt them. But I think you will not say, That the motion of the Sea has any power or effect upon the course of the Moon; wherefore it must be granted, that the course of the Moon has an effectual influence upon the Flux of the Sea. And therefore Fromundus speaks very expressly concerning this matter, and very peremptorily in these words: Si ex effectis de causa conjectatio valere potest, tam compertum videtur ●stus effici & gubernari à Lunari sydere, quam calorem ab ignibus effundi, aut lumen à Sole: to this sense; If we can gather any thing from effects concerning the cause, it seems to be as experimentally sure, that the Ebbing and Flowing of the Sea is made and governed by the Moon, as that heat flows from the fire, or light from the Sun. For indeed how could there be kept such inviolable laws, as that the Ocean should always swell at the Moons ascending; and not only so, but attemperately and proportionably to her motion, (for she coming every day later and later above the Horizon, the Flux of the Sea is later and later every time, according to her recession toward the East in her monthly course) I say, How could these laws be so accurately observed, Mr. Eugenius, if the Moon were not accessary to, nay, the principal causer of this Flux and Reflux of the Sea? And if thou be'st not wilfully blin●, this is enough to convince thee, that that which thou callest the Pulse of thy World-Animal, is from the Moon, not from the Sun, nor from its own inward ●orm: for thou seest it is caused and regulated by an external Agent. But for a more full discovery of this mystery, I send thee to Des-Cartes in the fourth part of his Principia Philosophiae; or to what I have taken from thence and made use of in the Notes upon my Philosophical Poems. In which Poems the intelligent Reader may understand, how far, and in what sense any sober Platonist will allow the world to be an Animal. Nor does one part of it acting upon another, as the Moon upon the Sea, hinder its Animation. For in men and beasts, one part of the body does plainly act upon another, though all be actuated by the soul. And now, Philalethes, I have taken all thy Outworks, none excepted; out of which thou hast shot many a slovenly shot against me. But thy foul piece has recoiled against thyself, in all sober men's opinions, and has beat thee backward into the dirt. And truly, I know not whether I should pity thee, or laugh at thy childish Ars but thou hast given thyself. For thou railest at me now thou art down, and threatnest him that is ready to set thee up upon thy feet, provided thou wilt not prick up thy ears too, and look too spruntly upon the business. But thou wantest no help, thou art a Giant, an invincible man of war, great Goliath of Ga●h. I a mere Puny, as thou callest me; nay, a Monkey, a Mouse. What, dost thou bid defiance to three at once, Philalethes? I tell thee, any one of these three would be hard enough for thee. But what wilt thou do, now thou art to deal with a man? For I shall fight with thee, only with a man's weapon, Reason. As for thy rail and quibblings, I shall not take notice of them; so that the battle is likely to be the sharper & shorter for it. Only let's be a little merry at the beginning, it will be like shaking of hands at the taking up of the cudgels. SECT. V. Mastix makes himself merry with Eugenius upon his abuse of the Argument of one of the Cantos of his Poems. That Reminiscency is no proof for the Praeexistencie of the Soul. That Eugenius is enforced to acknowledge the two Aristotelean principles, Matter and Privation. His ridiculous mistake of finding out and seeing the first Matter. Observation 1. ARt thou the hobbling Poet who sometime — Praised with his quill Plato's Philosophy? I am the Poet that did, and do with my pen, my mouth, and from my heart praise that excellent Philosophy of Plato, as the most consistent and coherent Metaphysical Hypothesis, that has yet been found out by the wit of man. But why hobbling Poet? thou hobbling Ass or Hobby-horse, choose thee whether. Thou hast so diseased and crazy a brain, that it cannot endure it seems the least jotting● and so thou hadst rather be carried in a Sedan, as those that are rotten with the Neapolitan disease, or else going the way to it; then be bravely hurried in my open magnificent chariot, whose tempestuous wheels dance and leap while they are wearing down the cragginess and asperity of Philosophic difficulties into plainness and easiness. But I know the vulgar, those poor Merchants of Eel-skins, that deal with nothing but the Exuvia of things, words and phrases, are more taken with smooth Nonsense, or superficial flourishes, then with the deepest knowledge in a careless dress. Dost thou not know that those men, that make it their business to be count and elegant in their clothes and carriages, commonly have little else but this in them? And so it is too often with Poems and other writings. But how I slight your simple censures, O ye skin-sucking flies! ye wasps with rush stings in your tails! ye winged inhabitants of Crowland! I will show you now, not in the prose of More, but in the very Trot and Loll of Spencer, as this Natural with his tongue lolling out of his drivelling mouth, uncivilly calls it. As gentle Shepherd in sweet Eventide When ruddy Phoebus begins to welk in West, High on an hill his flock to viewen wide, Marks which do bite their hasty supper best, A cloud of cumb'rous Gnats do him molest, All striving to infix their feeble stings, That from their ' noyance he no where can rest, But with his clownish hands their tender wings He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings. Nor have I here called myself Clown by craft, no more than the Poet calls the Knight so. But thy indiscreet wit cannot distinguish betwixt the Formale and Materiale of that whence the similitude is fetched; which made thee so ill digest my Philosophic Bacon. It was thine own Magic, Phil. or perverse imagination that turned thee into an Hog with tusks and bristles, not I But to return to the business: O thou judicious Critic! What is the fault? where is the flaw in what thou hast recited? — Praise with my quill Plato's Philosophy. Thou dost only play which the feather of the quill. But for what is writ with the inky end thereof, in those Poems of mine, I challenge thee to show me if thou canst, where my fancy or reason hath really tripped. Thou indeed hast attempted something in the Platonic way, but I have made it manifest, thou hast writ with the quill of a goose. But I have penned down the praise of Plato's Philosophy in this Canto, with the skill of a man, as any man that hath skill will acknowledge. But thy spirit is not yet prepared for the knowledge of such divine matters. It is not yet fine, gentle, and benign enough, to receive so delicious impressions. Put thy soul into a crysiple, O pragmatical Chemist, and set it on that fire that will excoct and purge out thy dross, and then judge of Platonisme. Art not thou the Chemical Monkey that art very busy to little purpose about the glasses of H. Blunden, an honest man and an happy Operator in Chemistry as I hear? But thou dost nothing but lear and look up at the reek of the furnace, and sendest as high theomagical meditations after every fold or curl of smoke that mounteth up, as the musing Ape after the flur and far flight of every partridge he let out of the basket. But enough of Levity. Now to expiate the excess of this mirth with something more solid and sober. I am ready to answer what thou allegest, and to make good that my first Observation is no oversight. Thou art here mistaken in two things. First, in that thou conceivest that Reminiscency is so strong an argument to prove the Preexistency of the soul before her entrance into the body. I say it is not any argument worth the insisting upon. For though the Soul do find truth in herself, questions being wisely proposed to her; yet she doth not perceive that she ever thought of those things before, and therefore cannot acknowledge any such Reminiscency in herself. And I appeal unto thine own reason, Eugenius, if God should create an humane soul, and put it into a body fit and complyable with contemplation, whether that Soul would not be able to answer all the questions propounded in Plato's Meno, as well as those that are supposed to preexist. And therefore I have not made use of this argument in all my Platonical Poems. For I tell thee, Phil. I am a very wary Philosopher, and he must rise betimes that goes about to impose upon my reason. Thy second mistake is, that thou thinkest I condemn thy opinion of the Preexistency of the soul, which indeed I might well do as personating an Aristotelean. But what I really blame there, is thy boldness and disadvantageous rashness in the proposal of it, thou intimating, as if the soul descended into the body with her eyes broad awake, which the first page of thy preface to the Reader doth plainly imply. Let any one read and judge. But if any one ask what my opinion is, I answer, It is no matter what my opinion is, as it is mine, (for what man is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉?) but the discussion of the truth of these things he may find in my Poems. Observation 2. Here, Philalethes, I charged thee with three absurdities. The first was affectation of pomp and ceremony in the finding out those things which cannot be hid from the eyes of the meanest capacity. As pretending it was a whole springs task, to find out this conclusion, viz. That things that are produced in Nature, are out of something in Nature unlike the things produced. To this thou answerest; that thou art not to be understood, as if thou wert a whole spring in finding out this conclusion: For thou only sayest, I took to task the fruits of one spring. But I say, that one spring may signify a whole spring, and your making a task of it seems to determine the words to that sense. And unless thou tookest the pains of examining all the flowers that grew in the spring, one after another, I mean their kinds; it would prove no task, or at least be no proof for thy conclusion. And therefore in all likelihood, one spring should signify here a whole spring. The second was, that thou art fain to admit of two of Aristotle's Principles, Matter and Privation. And this I inferred from the foregoing Conclusion. But thou answerest, That thou hast not so much as named Privation, much less acknowledged it for a Principle. That's no matter. Though thou hold thy peace, thy Observations speak it. That Viola est ex non viola, Rosa ex non Rosa, etc. Which is the very same thing the Peripatetics observe to be necessarily included in all generation, and therefore they make a Principle of it, and call it Privation. The third absurdity was, that you seemed so simple, as to ptomise yourself that you would find out the First Matter, or the common matter of all things, by experience. To which you answer, That you have found it out, felt it, and seen it. Well, Eugenius, thou art grown a great Proficient, I perceive, since the last time I met thee. For than thou wast to seek for this First Matter, now thou hast found it and felt it. Hast not thou felt the Ephialtes, Phil? or is not thy fancy as gross and thick as a syrup? I believe thou art as much jesuit as I Puritan, tell me truly Philalethes, dost not equivocate in this answer? and understandest by this First Matter, only the first matter of some things, as meal is the first matter of pudding, and pycrust, and bread, and the like. But if thou sayest thou hast seen and felt the First matter of all things whatsoever, thou hast pronounced what is impossible to be proved, and therefore as impossible to be believed by the sober and wise. And yet unless thou pronounce thus, thou pronouncest nothing to the present purpose. For, by first Matter, is understood the common matter of all things. But now to rebuke thy boldness in this assertion: Let me ask thee a sober question or two. This first Matter, which thou soughtest after, and now hast found, whether hadst thou any marks to know it by, when thou didst light on it? For as Venus in the Poet, when she sends hue and cry after her little Fugitive, describes him from his marks; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. So what ever is sought for by us, we ought to have an idea of it, that we may know it when we find it. As he that is to seek an horse in the field, if he have not an idea of an horse and of a cow, etc. he may bring one for the other. To be short, he that seeks without an idea of what is sought, seeks for he knows not what, and he will find it he knows not when. So that it was necessary for thee to have an idea of the first Matter in thy mind, when thou goest about to find it out. Now tell me, what the idea of the first Matter can be, if not this? A substance out of which all corporeal things are made, but itself out of nothing. And this is, if thou understandest truth when it is propounded to thee, as true an idea of the first Matter, as, to have three angels, is the right idea of a Triangle. But answer me now, Eugenius, in good earnest. Is that Matter which thou sayest thou hast seen and handled, such as will fit with this idea? How canst thou ever prove but that that matter was made of some other matter otherwise modified, as well as other things may be made of this? But I will deal very candidly with thee, Philalethes: For I would fain have thee speak some sense. The idea of thy first Matter thou meanest may happily be this. Matter so prepared and qualified by the Art of Chemistry, that it is fit to receive any form whatsoever, or Matter that is reduced to such a temper as it all was of at first, when it lay fitted for receiving of all forms of what nature so ever, and by this fitness engaged them to lodge in her large bosom. And thus though this Matter of thine be made of another matter, yet, because it is reduced to the state it was in first of all, before it received any forms, and was contrived into this order and distinction of parts that constitute the world, it may in this sense be called the first Matter. But tell me, Eugenius, how know'st thou that thou hast light on such a Matter as this? Thou hadst no preconceived idea of the colour and consistency of this matter which thou sayest thou hast felt and ●een, unless somebody hath described it to thee, from certain sensible qualities. But then I would ask both them and thee, how they know that a Body of this consistency and colour is the first matter? It is either because that they observe, that, what ever they resolve by their Chemical fires is resolved into this at last, or because they have observed that all things will arise out of this matter. But for the first: I say, they have not, nor can make trial of all things by their Art. For how many things appear above us out of our reach? besides what he eternally buried below. They can not distil the stars, as some say, glow-worms may be, and make them lamps of them to study by. Besides, why is that which is left, to be the first matter more than what is flown away and evaporated? And that which will not evaporate, I demand whether that is the first matter of air and light? Add to all this, That you do not so much find this first matter as make it in all likelihood. For how incredible a thing is it, but that by your fires or heats, (you putting the body that is under your operation into a perpetual motion, so that the parts fridge one against another uncessantly) the nature of it should be quite changed by you. So that you do not by a kind of Analysis discover what is at the bottom, but by Genesis modify the matter into a new dress. But that's no matter you'll say, so long as it is reduced to such a temper as it was, when the whole world was to be impregnated with several forms. But there is no way now left for you to know that you have thus reduced it, unless you have seen this Matter of yours, Vertumnus-like to appear before you in all shapes Tell me then, Philalethes, Have you seen it put on the form of a Sponge? of a Pumex? of Adamant? of Marble? Have you seen it put on the shape of all plants whatsoever and Animals? to say nothing of metals and minerals. Have you played with it in the shape of a dog? or has it roared against you in the form of a lion? or have you made sport with the mustachoes of it in the figure of a mouse? Has Paracelsus his homunculus come tumbling out of it, with his tail upwards in sign of good luck? or hast thou conferred with it in the dress of a wanton Lady, clothed with transparent lawns or Sybariticall tiffanies? If thou hast not, (and darest thou say thou hast?) thou hast no reason at all to say thou hast seen and felt the first Matter of all things. It is but vain boasting and bold imposture. Add unto all this; That if there were any such matter as thou meanest, so fit for all forms, and yet fitted with none, the Mundus vitae, or world of Lives and Forms) being every where present so as it is, this destitute widow, or marriageable Virgin could be no more kept from being ma●ch'd with one Form or other, than Dana● could be from jupiter, who notwithstanding the close custody she was under, descended into her lap in a golden shower. Wherefore I conclude, that it is not any certain Experience, but rash Juvenilitie and confidence, that makes thee pronounce thou hast seen and felt the first Matter. SECT. VI Rules whereby we may better assure ourselves that we use our Reason aright. Mastix as well as Eugenius calls the Matter Darkness, but Mastix Poetically, Eugenius Philosophically. The true and rational notion of the first Matter according to Aristotle. Eugenius his ridiculous division of an Idea. Of the divine and natural Idea according to Philo. Eugenius his self-contradiction in making the Earth environed with light, and yet a vicissitude of day and night. That the Letter of the Scripture speaks according to the vulgar conceit of men, and therefore extends the World no higher than the clouds or thereabout. Observation 3. HEre thou wouldst fain carp at my Hymn of Humility and Charity, but thy pride and unchristian bitterresse only makes thee grin at it, it representing that which is so contrary to thine own nature. But here is nothing said to any purpose, and therefore 'tis to no purpose to apply an answer. As for thy cavils against those expressions of mine, that we are to mea●●re our wisdom by unprejudicate reason, by humilty and purity of mind, and not by devotion; the seen is, That we are to try how wise we are, or how safely we may conclude ourselves to be wise, by examining whether we have put off all prejudice, and ●se our reason impartially, whether we be humble an● set free from all corruption of Flesh and Spirit. jor by these we may better and more safely conclude ●at we have used our understanding aright, and are n●t mistaken in what we conceive, then by long, or hot, or humorous devotions, such as men seem b● to play with God in, and rather show the world what fine heats they have, then heartily desire the tr●e good from him, whom they seem to solicit for it But thou art so galled with the sense, that thou wo●dst fain revenge thyself upon the words. ●n what sense I call the disciples of Aristotle orthodox, any body that hath any wit and urbanity in them may easily discern, and then my praises of Plato and Des-Cartes may consist very well with this passage. But as for Scaligers making use of Aristotle's text to make good Athanasius his Creed, I will be very fair with thee, Phil. He did first believe firmly, that there is such a Trinity, and then made Aristotle speak to that purpose. Now do thou but first prove strongly thy Philosophical positions by Reason, and then I give thee leave for further countenance to call in Moses his text. Observation 4. Do you mention no life here, Eugenius? But then Georgius Venetus does for you. Omne quod vivit, propter inclusum calorem vivit: indè coll●gitur, caloris naturam vim habere in se vitalem i● mundo passim diffusam, etc. Construe it, Phil. and be pacified. Observation 5. When you call the Matter darkness i● your own verse. Why, it seems than you had a mi●d to write poetical Prose, which I am sure Mr. Bull of Eton had like to have whipped me for when I was aboy. But I wonder how thou comest to stumble on this Stanza of mine above the rest. Let us bring it all forth entire into view. The last extreme the farthest off from light, That's Nature's deadly shadow, Hyles cell. O horrid Cave, and womb of dreaded Night! Mother of witchcraft and accursed spell, Which nothing can avail against Israel, No Magic can him hurt, his portion Is not divided nature, he doth dwell In light, in holy love, in union, Not fast to this or that, but free communion. O! now I see the reason, there is the word Magic named in it. But tell me, O Magicus! dost thou understand what I have writ there? If thou didst, as thou shouldst do, and hadst an inward sense and feeling of it, thou wouldst make a bonfire of all thy books of curious Arts, as the Magicians did in the Apostles time for joy of finding a better light. But I cannot express what I mean better than I have already in that Stanza. Page 40. lin. 20. Prithee, Mastix, what is this subject? I'll tell thee. Nay, Aristotle shall tell thee: these are his words, Phys. l. 1. c. ult. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Thou wil● not say that this is in nature, neither 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 nor 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as thou barbarously speakest. And thou must give me leave to correct thy Greek, when there is need, as well as thou dost my English where there is no need. Thy 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is a monster, and hath one 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 too much, but I will not tread on this toe of thine too hard. I pass off, and come to thy head, that, I mean, that should dwell there; if there be any body within, let them answer me. Is not that defined there by Aristotle, (the sense whereof is sufficiently set out in my description of the Idea of the first matter) Is it not in nature, neither 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 nor 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉? I appeal to thine own reason if thou canst any ways shift it, but that thou must conceive a matter variously changed into several succeeding forms. Therefore that which continues the same numerical substance, though in its notion incomplete, and sustains the succeeding form, that is a thing in Nature. But when we precisely conceive it utterly devoid of all forms, that's a separation made only by the fire of our understanding (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the Oracles call it) not by your Chemical fire: and this is not in Nature, but in our apprehension. Wherefore your assertion is false, when you say that this Matter is neither 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, nor 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Nature. For though the notional respect be not in Nature, the thing itself is. And this, I say, is a sober description, and signifies something. But your horrible empty darkness, which you say here is the first Matter, doth but mock a man's fancy in the dark. Page 42. line 15. The holy Spirit, say you, is not able to see, etc. I say, Anthroposophus, that it is you that have put things together so illfavouredly, as if you implied so much; as the Reader may judge by perpending the ninth page of your Anthroposophia. Page 43. line 20. As soon as God was. Where is thy Logic, Eugenius? doth that imply there was a time when God was not? when we say, that one is as wise as a wisp, does that imply the wisp is wise? I tell thee, a wisp is no wiser than thou art, Mr. Magicus. So if I say that the light of the Ideas was not later than the existence of God, that saying does neither stint nor stretch out the duration of God's existence, but only it coextends the light of the Ideas with that duration. Page 44. lin. 1. But the water was not so. But what was the horrible empty darkness? O thou man in the dark! was that ab aeterno, or not? and if that was, could not the Divine light shine in that darkness? but I will wrestle no longer with such Lemures in the dark, as thy shifting fancy proves itself, O Anthroposophus! Let's go on, and see if we can get into the light. Observation 6. And speak of Rationes seminales. Yes, I spoke of them, and moved a very material question concerning them, to wit, what that Experiment in a glass could do, for the confirming or confuting the Rationes seminales. It had been your duty here to have satisfied this Quaere, but I perceive your inability, and pardon you. Observation 7. Line 10. I myself make the Natural Idea no Idea at all. So then, Anthroposophus, this is the story. There is a twofold Idea, a divine Idea, and an Idea which is no Idea at all: Ha ha he! Thou hadst abused me so unmercifully in this bitter book of thine, that I thought I should never have been able to laugh again as long as I lived: But this would make a dog burst his halter with laughing, I must now laugh or die. What, art thou now turned Preacher, Phil? though no Puritan by no means, and tell'st us of three kinds of Seekers, that they are either those which are both Seekers and Finders; or those that are Finders, but no Seekers; or lastly, such as are neither Seekers nor Finders? Certainly when thou wrotest this book, thou hadst a plot to eternize thy fame, and leave thy folly upon record. Page 46. line 1. Cite him then, and produce his words. Here they are Philalethes: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, page 20. He there proves, that there are divine Ideas before the creation of the visible plants, from that text of Moses, Gen. 2. v. 4, 5. Philo's own words are these upon that text; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, says he, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. that is, Does not he manifestly set before us incorporeal and intellectual Ideas, which are the seals of Gods sensible works? for before the earth sent forth herbs, there was even then (saith Moses) herbs, in Rerum Natura; and before the grass grew, there was invisible grass. Can you desire any thing more plain and express? But to make thee amends for laughing at thy division of the Idea which had but one member, and hopped like one of the Monocoli upon a single leg, I will give thee another Idea besides this out of the same Philo, and such as may be truly called both an Idea and a natural one, a thing betwixt thy Ideal vestiment, and the Divine Idea itself: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 pag. 6. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, But the fruits was not only for nourishment for living creatures, but preparations also for the perpetual generation of the like kind of plants, they having in them Seminal Substances, in which the hidden and invisible forms of all things become manifest and visible by circumvolutions of seasons. These are the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or Rationes seminales, the seminal Forms of things. Observation 11. Page 48, line 9 Mastix is delivered of a Bull. This is a Calf of thy own begetting; but I have forgot all this while to render thee a Calf for a Bull as I promised thee. I am not toyish enough for thee, my little Phil. Do I say Heat and Siccity are Aqua vitae bottles? But may not heat, and siccity, and Aqua vitae be consentany arguments? what repugnancy is there in it? Answer, Logician: Therefore there is no Bull here, till thou be grown up to thy full stature. Observation 12. Here I told you that you encompassing all with the Empyreal substance, you had left no room for Evening and Morning upon the Mass of the Earth. What do you answer to this? That the Empyreal substance was a fire which had borrowed its tincture from the light, but not so much as would illuminate the Mass of itself. No, Philalethes? Do not you say it retained a vast portion of light? and is not that enough to illuminate the Mass of itself? Nay, you say it made the first day without the Sun, but now you unsay it again. Pitiful baffled Creature! But as for those terrible mysterious radiations of God upon the Chaos, and dark Evaporations of the Chaos towards God, which thou wouldst fain shusfle off thy absurdities by; I say, they are but the flaring of thine own fancy, and the reeks and fumes of thy puddled brain. Dost thou tell me this from Reason or Inspiration, Phil? If from Reason, produce thy arguments; if from Inspiration, show me thy Miracle. Page 51. line 25. The clouds are in the Air, not above it, etc. But if the clouds be the highest parts of the world, according to the letter of Moses, which is accommodated, as I shall prove, to the common conceit and sense of the Vulgar; then in the judgement of sober men it will appear, that thy Argument hath no agreement neither with Philosophy nor common sense. Now therefore to instruct thee, as well as I do sometimes laugh at thee; I will endeavour to make these two things plain to thee. First, That Scripture speaks according to the outward appearance of things to sense and vulgar conceit of men. Secondly, That following this Rule, we shall find the Extent of the World to be bounded no higher than the clouds, or thereabout: So that the Firmament, viz: the Air, (for the Hebrews have no word for the Air, distinct from Heaven or Firmament, Moses making no distinction) may be an adequate bar betwixt the lower and upper waters. Which it was requisite for Moses to mention, vulgar observation discovering that waters came down from above, viz. showers of Rain, and they could not possibly conceive, that unless there were waters above, that any water should descend thence. And this was it that gave occasion to Moses, of mentioning those two waters, the one above, the other beneath the firmament. But to return to the first point to be proved, That Scripture speaks according to the outward appearance of things to sense, and vulgar conceit of men. This I say is a confessed truth with the most learned of the Hebrews. Amongst whom it is a rule for the understanding of many and many places of Scripture. Loquitur Lex secundùm linguam filiorum hominum, that is, That the Law speaks according to the language of the sons of men: as Moses AEgyptius can tell you. And it will be worth our labour now to instance in some passages. Gen. 19 v. 23. The sun was risen upon the Earth when Lot entered into Zoar. Which implies, that it was before under the Earth: Which is true only according to sense, and vulgar fancy. Deuteronom. 30. v. 4. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; Implies that the earth is bounded at certain places, as if there were truly an Hercules Pillar, or Non plus ultrá: As it is manifest to them, that understand but the natural signification of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. For those words plainly import the Earth bounded by the blue Heavens, and the Heavens bounded by the Horizon of the Earth: they touching one another mutually. Which is true only to sense and in appearance, as any man that is not a mere Idiot will confess. Ecclesiastic. cap. 27. v. 12. The discourse of a godly man is always with wisdom, but a fool changeth as the moon. That's to be understood according to sense and appearance. For if a fool changeth no more than the Moon doth really, he is a wise and excellently accomplished man, Semper idem, though to the sight of the vulgar different. For at least an Hemisphere of the Moon is always enlightened, and even then most, when she lest appears to us. Hitherto may be referred also that, 2. Chron. 4. 2. Also he made a molten Sea of ten Cubits from brim ●o brim round in compass, and five Cubits the height thereof, and a line of thirty Cubits did compass it round about. A thing plainly impossible that the Diameter should be ten Cubits and the Circumference but thirty. But it pleaseth the Spirit of God here to speak according to the common use and opinion of Men, and not according to the subtlety of Archimedes his demonstration. Again Psalm 19 In them hath he set a tabernacle for the Sun, which as a bridegroom cometh out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as a strong man to run his race. This, as Mr. john Calvin observes, is spoken according to the rude apprehension of the Vulgar, whom David should in vain have endeavoured to teach the mysteries of Astronomy. Haec ratio est (saith he) cur dicat tentorium ei paratum esse, deinde egredi ipsum ab una coeli extremitate, & transire celeriter ad partem oppositam; Neque enim argutè inter Philosophos de integro solis circuitu disputat, sed rudissimis quibusque se accommodans, intra ocularem experientiam se continet; ideoque dimidiam cursûs partem quae sub Hemisphario nostro non cernitur, subticet. i e. This is the reason, to wit, the rudeness of the vulgar, why the Psalmist saith there is a tent prepared for the Sun, and then that he goes from one end of the heaven and passes swiftly to the other: For he doth not here subtly dispute amongst the Philosophers of the entire circuit of the Sun, but accommodating himself to the capacity of every ignorant man, contains himself within ocular experience; and therefore saith nothing of the other part of the course of the sun, which is not to be seen as being under our Hemisphere. Thus M. Calvin. I'll add but one instance more, joshua 10. v. 12. Sun stand thou still upon Gibeon, and thou Moon in the valley of Ajalon. Where it is manifest that joshua speaks not according to the Astronomical truth of the thing but according to sense and appearance. For suppose the Sun placed and the Moon at the best advantage you can so that they leave not their natural course, they were so far far from being one over Ajalon and the other over Gibeon, that they were in very truth many hundreds of miles distant from them. And if the Sun and Moon were on the other side of the Equatour, the distance might amount to thousands. I might adjoin to these proofs the suffrages of many Fathers and Modern Divines, as chrysostom, Ambrose, Augustine, Bernard, Aquinas, etc. But 'tis already manifest enough that the Scripture speaks not according to the exact curiosity of truth, describing things 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, according to the very nature and essence of them; but 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, according to the●r appearance in sense, and the vulgar opinion of men. Nor doth it therefore follow that such expressions are false, because they are according to the appearance of things to sense and obvious fancy, for there is also a Truth of Appearance. And thus having made good the first part of my promise, I proceed to the second; which was to show, That the Extent of the world is to be bounded no higher than the clouds, or there abouts, that it may thence appear, that the upper waters mentioned in Moses, are the same with those Aquae in coelo stantes mentioned by Pliny, lib. 31. his words are these, Quid esse mirabilius potest aquis in coelo stantibus? and these waters can be nothing else, but that contained in the clouds, which descends in rain; and so the whole Creation will be contained within the compass of the Air, which the Hebrews call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 quasi 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ibi aquae: because it is sedes nubium, the place of clouds and rain. And that the world is extended no higher than thus, according to Scripture, it is apparent. First, because the clouds are made the place of God's abode; whence we are to suppose them placed with the highest. There he lives, and runs, and rides, and walks. He came walking upon the wings of the wind, in the 104. Psalm. Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters, who maketh the clouds his chariot, and walketh on the wings of the wind. Layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters, to wit, the upper waters which are the clouds. The Almighty's lodgings therefore according to the letter, are placed in the clouds. Thereabout also is his field for exercise and war, Deut. 33. 26. There is none like to the God of jeshurun, who rideth upon the Heavens for thy help in his excellency on the sky, that is, upon the upper clouds, as Buxtorf interprets it, and indeed what can 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 properly signify above, but clouds? for below it signifies pulvis tenuissimus, small dust; and the clouds are as it were the dust of heaven. Vatablus also interprets that place of Gods riding on the clouds. And this agrees well with that of Nahum, chap. 1. v. 3. The Lord hath his way in the whirlwind, and the clouds are the dust of his feet. Here he is running as swift as a whirlwind, and raiseth a dust of clouds about him. You shall find him riding again, Psalm 68 4. and that in triumph; but yet but on the clouds: suitably to that in Deut. Sing unto God, sing praises unto his Name, extol him that rideth upon the heavens by his name JAH, and rejoice before Him. That rideth upon the Heavens; the Hebrew is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which I would be bold with Aben Ezraes' leave, to translate, that rideth upon the clouds: For clouds cause darkness, and the root from whence 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which signifies obtenebrari, obscurari. But for the ground of this Rabbis interpretation, to wit, Upon the heavens, it is taken out of the 33. verse of the 68 Psalm, To him that rideth upon the heaven of heavens of old. But if we read on there, we shall find that those heavens of heavens, in all probability, reach no higher than the clouds. For let's read the whole verse together, To him that rideth upon the heaven of heavens that were of old; Lo, he doth send out his voice, and that a mighty voice: what's that but thunder? and whence is thunder but out of the clouds? and where then doth God ride but on the clouds? The following verse makes all plain: Ascribe ye strength unto God; His excellency is over Israel, and his strength is in the clouds, which doth notably confirm, that the Extent of the Heavens, according to the letter of Moses and David too, are but about the height of the clouds. For here the heaven of heavens is the seat of thunder, and God's strength and power is said to be in the clouds. Nor doth this expression of this height, to wit, the heaven of heavens of old, imply any distance higher. For sith all the Firmament from the lower to the upper waters is called Heaven; it is not a whit unreasonable that the highest part of this Heaven or Firmament, be called the Heaven of Heavens. And this is my first argument that the heaven or firmaments Extent is but from the Sea to the Clouds, because God is sea●ed no higher in the outward phrase of Scripture. My second argument is taken from the adjoining the heavens with the clouds exegetically, one with another, for the setting out of that which is exceeding high as high as we can express. And this the Psalmist doth often, Psalm 36. 5. Thy mercy, O Lord, is in the Heavens, and thy faithfulness reacheth unto the Cloud●. And Psalm 57.10. For thy mercy is great unto the Heavens, and thy truth unto the Clouds. And Psalm 108. 4. For thy mercy is great above the Heavens, and thy truth reacheth above the Clouds. Where heaven and clouds set off one and the same height, that which is exceeding high, the mercy and truth of God. My last argument is from the Psalmists placing the Sun, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in the clouds, or in the cloudy heaven. For the word must so signify as I did above prove both from Testimony, and might also from the Etymon of the word. For 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 signifies comminuere, contundere, to beat to dust: and what are clouds but the dust of heaven, as I may so speak. Psalm 89. v. 36, 37. His seed shall endure for ever, and his throne as the Sun before me. It shall be established for ever as the Moon, and as the faithful witness 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in heaven: that is, in the sky, the place where the clouds are. The drawing down therefore of the Sun, that faithful witness in heaven, so low as the clouds, implies that the letter of the Scripture takes no notice of any considerable part of the firmament above the clouds, it terminating its expressions always at that Extent. And this suits very well with Moses his calling the Sun and the Moon the great lights, and making nothing as it were of the stars, as is manifest out of the 16 verse of the first of Genesis. And God made two great lights, the greater light to rule the day, and the less to rule the night; He made the stars also. But they come as cast into the bargain, as not so considerable, when as indeed a Star of the first magnitude is (according to the calculation of the Astronomers) twenty thousand times bigger than the earth, and the earth five and forty times bigger than the Moon; so that one star of the first magnitude will prove about nine hundred thousand times bigger than the Moon. Which notwithstanding, according to the letter of Moses, is one of the two great lights, the sole Empress of the night. But here the letter of Moses is very consistent with itself. For sith that the Extent of heaven is not acknowledged any higher than the clouds, or thereabout wherein, (as I showed you) the Sun is, and consequently the Moon, and it will not be more harsh to make the stars stoop so low too; nay, they must indeed of necessity all of them be so low, they having no where else to be higher, according to the usual phrase of Scripture) the appearances of the stars will then to our sight sufficiently set out their proportions one to another, and the Sun and the Moon (according to this Hypothesis) will prove the two great lights, and the stars but scattered sky-pebbles. Wherefore from all this harmony and correspondency of things, I think I may safely conclude, that the Extent of the Firmament according to Moses, is but the distance from the sea to the clouds, or thereabouts, as well as it is to our sight, which cannot discern any interval of altitudes betwixt the clouds and the Moon, the Moon and the Sun, and lastly, betwixt the Sun and the fixed Stars. Which interpretation I am confident any man will admit of, that can bring down the tumour of his Philosophic fancy unto a vulgar consistency, and fit compliance with the sweetness and simplicity of Moses his style. And thus, Philalethes, have I proved that there is no room for thy interstellar waters within the compass of Moses his Creation, unless they run into one, and mingle with the rain or clouds. SECT. VII. Eugenius his ignorance in the English tongue. His gross mistakes concerning the Epicycles of Ptolemie. That Air is an Element of our body. That the vulgar notion of Rarefaction and Condensation implies a contradiction. Of Eugenius his Magnet. That Temperance and Charity is of more consequence to mankind then his Philosopher's stone. His misapplication of S. John's Prophecy for the proving of a Vitrification of the Earth. Observation 13. HEre I called the Ptolemaick Systeme a rumbling confused Labyrinth. So you did Philalethes, and I perceive you will do so again. But prithee tell me, dost thou mean the Heavens rumble? and so understandest or rather hearest the rumbling harmony of the Spheres? or dost thou mean the Labyrinth rumbles? I tell thee; Philaleth●s, a wheel-barrow may be said to rumble, for to rumble is to make an ill-favoured ungrateful noise; but no body will say the heavens or a labyrinth doth rumble, but such as are no Englishmen, as you say somewhere you are not, and so do not understand the language. Pag. 53. A confused wheel-barrow is a bull. Is a wheel-barrow a bull? what a bull is that? But confused, I added not confused to wheel-barrow, that's thy doing thou author of confusion's Line 18. The Epicycles in respect of their orb●●re but as a Mite in●● cheese. Do yo● say so, Mr. Lily? No. Do you say so, Mr. Booker? No. Look thee now, Phil. how thy confident ignorance hath abused those two learned Artists as thou callest them. They are ashamed to utter such loud nonsense. And now they have denied it, darest thou venture to say it, Anthroposophus? Tell me then how little and diminutive those Epicycles will prove in respect of their orbs, that have their diameters equal to the diameter of the orbit of the earth, or which is all one of the sun. Thou wilt answer me with the Cyclops in Erasmus, Istiusmodi subtilitates non capio. I do not believe thou understandest the Question, though it be plainly propounded, and so I shall expect no answer. But come thy ways hither again, Phil. thou shalt not scape thus. I will not let thee go till I have called thee to an account for thy great bull of Basan as thou wouldst call it. Thou sayest, That the Epicycles of Ptolemy though they are too big to be true, yet that they are very diminutive things in respect of their orbs that sustain them; as little and diminutive as mites in a cheese in respect of the cheese. To speak the most favourably of this assertion of thine that may be, it is sublime Astronomical Nonsense. And if we could find any Nonsense sublunary to parallel it, it would be some such stuff as this: Although the cannon bullets in the tower be as big as mount Athos, yet they are so little that they will not fill the compass of a walnut. This is a bundle of falsities and so is that. That is, Both the parts of these compound Axioms are false, and the composition itself also illegitimate. These are Discrete Axioms, Eugenius, and both the parts ought to be true, but they are both false here. And there ought also, especially these notes Quamvis and tamen being in them, to be only a Discretion of parts, but here is an implacable Opposition: things put together that imply a contradiction. In the latter of these Axioms it is manifest; but I will show you, it is so also, in that former of yours. For first, the Epicyoles of Ptolemy, are not too big to be true. For they do not suppose them bigger than will be contained within the thickness of their own orbs. And you yourself say that they are but as mites in a cheese in respect of their orbs. So that it is plain according to what you yourself grant, as well as according to the Hypothesis of Ptolemy, that they are not too big to be true. But secondly, I say they are not as little as Mites in respect of the cheese they are in. For the semi-diameter of Satur's Epicycle is to the semi-diameter of h●s Eccentrick, at least as 1 to 10. and the semi-diameter of jupiters' Epicycle to the semi-diameter of his Eccentrick more than as 1 to 6. but Mars his as 2 to 3, or thereabout, and the semidiameter of the Epicycle of Venus to the semidiameter of her eccentrick more than as 2 to 3 by a good deal. And is it not plain hence Eugenius, that thy mite in a cheese must swell up at least to the bigness of a Mouse in a cheese, though thy cheese were almost as little as a trundle bed wheel, or a box of Marmalade? and what a vast difference is there betwixt a Mite and a Mouse, but thy ignorance emboldens thee to speak any thing. But now in the last place, the putting these two falsities together is contradiction, as well as they are severally false. For it is evident, that if the Epicycles be too big to be true, they cannot be so little as Mites in a cheese, in respect of their orbs. For than would they be easily contained within the crassities or thickness of their orbs. But their not being able to be contained within the Crassities of their orbs, that's the thing that must make them too big to be true. And questionless if we will join the Epicycle with its right office, which is to bring down the Planet to its lowest Perigee, than the Epicycles of the planets will be too big to be true. For there will be of them that are half as big again as their Deferents, nay five times if not ten times as big. And of these Epicycles I said (and Ptolemies ought to have been such, unless they did desert their office) that they were too big to be true. But thou pronouncest concerning these things thou know'st not what, and therefore art easily tossed up and down like a shuttle cock thou know'st not whither, How do I blow thee about as the dust or the down of thistles? — ut plumas avium pappósque volantes. Observation 16. Thou Moor à 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. As much as à 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Thou art so drunk and intoxicated with thine own blood (as Aristotle saith of all young men that they are 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) that thou seest double, two O's in my name for one. Observation 19 See what I answer at observation the 23. Observation 20. Fie, Phy, some rose-water. Who speaks like a Puritan now, Phil? but why some rose water? hast thou devoured an Orange like an apple, pulp and pill and all, and so made thy mouth bitter, O thou man of Wales! But it is to wash her mouth from bawdry. Why wilt thou be so bold then as to name the Lawyer's phrase rem in re! Or hast thou a purpose to call all the Lawyers, bawdy Gentlemen, by craft? I tell thee, Phil. To the pure all things are pure; but thy venereous fancy which I rebuked in this passage thou exceptedst against, doth soil and corrupt what is chaste and pure. Observation 21. I do, Mastix. I do. Why dost thou not then explain it, thou little Mastigia? Observation 23. Here I have you fast, Philalethes, for all your wriggling. For if our vital and animal spirits, which are as much a part of us, as any other part of our body is, be fed and nourished by the Air, than the Air is an Element of our body. But here he would fain save himself, by saying that the Air is rather a Compound then an Element: but let any man judge how much more it is compounded then the Earth, and then Water which nourisheth by drinking, as well as the Air can do by breathing. Observation 24. Page 59 line 1. How can darkness be called a Mass? etc. No it cannot. Nor a thin vaporous matter neither. Thy blindness cannot distinguish Abstracts from Concrets. Thy soul sits in the dark, Philalethes, and nibbles on words as a mouse in a hole on cheese ●arings. But to slight thy injudicious cavil at Mass, and to fall to the Matter. I charged thee here to have spoke such stuff as implies a Contradiction. Thou saidst that this Mass (be it black or white, dark or bright, that's nothing to the Controversy here) did contain in a far less compass all that was after extracted. I say this implies a Contradiction. But you answer, this is nothing but Rarefaction and Condensation according to the common notion of the Schools. I but that Notion itself implies a Contradiction, for in Rarefaction and Condensation there is the generation or deperdition of no new Matter, but all matter hath impenetrable dimensions. Therefore if that large expansion of the heavens lay within the compass of the Mass, that matter occupied the same space that the mass did, and so dimensions lay in dimensions, and thus that which is impenetrable was penetrated, which is a contradiction. What thou allegest of the rarefaction of water into clouds or vapours, is nothing to the purpose. For these clouds and vapours are not one continued substance, but are the particles of the water put upon motion, and playing at some distance one from another, but do really take up no more place than before. Observation 26. To say nothing at thy fond cavil at words in the former Observations and thy false accusation that I called thee dog (for I would not dishonour Diogenes●o ●o much as to call thee so) and leaving it to the censure of the world, how plain and real thy principles are, I am come now to my 26 Observation on the 23 page of thy Anthroposophia, where thou tellest us, That there is a threefold Earth, viz. Elementary, Celestial, Spiritual. Now let us see what an excellent layer of the fundamentals of Science thou wil● prove thyself. And here he begins to divide before he defines. Thou shouldest fi●st have told us what Earth is in general before thou divide it. This is like a creature with a cloven foot, and never a head. But when thou didst venture to define these Members, where was thy Logic? Ought not every definition, nay, ought not every Precept of Art to be 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉? but I will not vex thy head with these severities. The Magnet is the second member, the object of this 26 Observation. Here you say, I condemn this Magnet, but I do not offer to confute it. But I answer, I have as substantially confuted it as merrily; but thou dost not take notice of it. I have intimated that this precept of art is not 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, nay, that it is plainly false: For it affirms that which hath no discovery by reason or experience, viz. That there is a certain earth which you call the Magnet, that will draw all things to it at what distance so ever. Quodcunque ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odi. So far am I from approving thy Magnet, O Magicus. Nor do the pages thou here citest, of which I give a favourable censure, prove any such thing. Let the Reader peruse them, and judge. Indeed certain operations of the Soul are highly and Hyperbolically there set out by thee; but the Magnet came dropping in at the latter end of the story. I gave no allowance to that. I will not have my soul so ill taught, as to attract metal out of men's purses at any distance whatsoever. Page 64. line 12. Didst thou ever hear or know that I was a pickpocket? If I had had the least suspicion of thee that thou wer● so, I would not have called thee so, for it had been an unmerciful jest. But if thou wert as full of candour and urbanity, as I deem thee clear of that crime, thou wouldst not have interpreted it malice but mirth. For such jests as these are not uncivil nor abusive to the person, when the materiality of them are plainly and confessedly incompatible to the party on whom they are ●ast. Observation 27. Page 65. line 14. Prithee why a Galileo's tube, were there more Galileo's then one? Certainly, Phil. thou dost not look through a Galileo's glass, but through a multiplying glass, that seest in my English more Galileo's then one. Go thy ways for the oddest corrector of English that ever I met with in all my days. Observation 28. Page 67. line 1. For I fear God. The devils also believe and tremble: But dost thou love God, my Philalethes? If thou didst, thou wouldst love thy brother also. But shall I tell thee truly what I fear? Truly I fear, that thou hast no such precious medicine to publish, which thou makest so nice of; and that thou dost only make Religion a cover for thine ignorance. But let me tell thee this sober truth, That Temperance will prevent more diseases by far, than thy medicine is like to cure; and Christian Love would relieve more by many thousands, than thy Philosopher's stone that should convert base metals into gold. There is gold enough in the world, and all necessaries else for outward happiness; but the generations of men make themselves miserable by neglecting the inward. This is palpably true, and it would astonish a man to see how they run madding after the noise of every pompous difficulty, and how stupid and sottish they are to those things which God has more universally put in their power, and which would (if they made use of them) redound to their more general and effectual good. Observation 29. So doth S. john prophesy too. But Magicus is too wise to understand him. S. john tells us of a new Heaven, and of a new Earth. Here, Magicus having recourse to his Chemistry, in the height of his imagination prefigures to himself not only Crystalline Heavens, but also a Vitrifide Earth. But I consulting with Scripture, and with the simplicity of mine own plain Spirit, think of a new Heaven and a new Earth wherein righteousness He's for an Eden with flowery walks, and pleasant trees; I am for a Paradise, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Where Virtue, Wisdom, and good Order meet, As the Chalde● Oracles describe it. He is for a pure clear place, I place my happiness in a clear and pure mind, which is the holy place or temple of God. Observation 30. Tecum habita. I will not urge that Precept too strictly upon thyself, because I wish thee a better companion. Observation 31. For thy ho! sounds like the noise of a Sowgelder. As much as the celestial orbs or labyrinth rumble like a wheel-barrow. This is but the crowing of thine own brain to the tune of the Sowgelder's horn. SECT. VIII. The useless mystery of the Souls being an Hermaphrodite. Of the uncleanness of Aristotle. That the shame of lust is an argument that something better than the condition of this mortal body belongs to the Soul. That the Soul of man is not propagated as light from light. That though she perceive nothing but her own energy, yet the distinction of the inward and outward sense is not without its use. That Eugenius asserts that blind men do see in their sleep. That there is but one Sentient spirit in a man which is the Rational soul herself. Of understanding without Phantasms. Mastix takes notice of Eugenius his vain boasting of his quick parts. That a bad man cannot be so much as a friend to himself. The great satisfaction of the plain Truths of Christianity above the Zeal and intricacy of sects. Eugenius his injudicious Poetry wherein intending to praise the University of Oxford he plainly abuses it. That comparison implies not always a Positive. That Mastix affects not to confute every thing but what he can plainly show to be false. Observation 32. HEre in answer to my objection thou tellest me that Ruac and Nephesh, the parts whereof the Soul of man consists, differ as male and female. All the mystery than is to make man's soul an Hermaphrodite. Thou shouldst have told us here what operations were proper to Ruach, what to Nephesh, whether vegetation belong to the one● reason and sense to the other: or whether in this the divine life were seated, in that the animal and fleshly reason, and the like. But the subtlety of thy wit reacheth no further than the discrimination of sexes, and the grossly pointing out of Male and Female. Page 69. line 9 For your Sodomite Patron Aristotle allows of it in his Politics. More wretched beast he if it be so: but I do not remember any such passage in his Politics, and yet have read them through, but long since; and it is sufficient for me if I remember the best things in Authors I read, I can willingly let go the worst. But what thou sayest of Aristotle is not unlikely; for he is taxed for this unnatural practice in Diogenes Laertius, with one Hermias a foul friend of his, in the praise of whom notwithstanding he hath wrote a very fair and elegant Hymn, which begins thus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. To this sense, Virtue! that putst humane race Upon so hard toil and pains; Lives fairest prize! Thy lovely face Bright Virgin, the brave Greek constrains To undergo with an unwearied mind Long wasting labours, and in high desire To throng through many deaths to find Thee; that dost fire Man's soul with hopes of such immortal fruit No gold can suit, Nor love of Parents equalise, Nor slumbers sweet that softly seize the eyes. So easy a thing is it for bad men to speak good words. It is recorded by the same author out of Aristippus, that the same Philosopher was also so much taken with the conversation of Hermias' whore, that in lieu of that pleasure he reaped by her, he did the same ceremonies and holy rites to her, that the Athenians were wont to do to their goddess Ceres Eleusinia. From whence it seems that his soul did consist of two parts, Male and Female, he having to do with both. So that he is more like to prove thy Patron than mine, Philalethes! for I have to do with neither. Page 69. line 10. But I am tickled say you. Yes, I say you are so tickled and do so tickle it up in your style with expressions fetched from the Gynaeceum, that you are ridiculous in it, and I thought good to show you to be such as you are. But for mine own part I am moved neither one way nor another with any such things, but think good to affix here this sober consideration. That there being generally in Men and Women that are not either Heroically good, or stupidly and beastly naught, a kind of shame and aversation in the very naming of these things; that it is a sign that the Soul of man doth in its own judgement find itself here in this condition of the body, as I may so speak, in a wrong box and hath a kind of presage and conscience that better and more noble things belong unto it, else why should it be troubled at its own proclivity to that which is the height, and flower of the pleasure of the body, as they that are given to this folly do profess. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. To this sense. What life? what sweet without the golden tie Of Venus? dead to this, straight let me die. But that there is a natural shame of these acts and the propension to them, that story of Typhon in Diodorus Siculus is no obscure argument. For when he had murdered his brother Osiris, that he might more sacramentally bind to him, for his future help and security, his twenty four Accomplices in this act, he hewed the body of his brother into so many pieces, but was fain to fling the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 his Pudendum into the river, they every one being unwilling to take that for their share. So much aversation is there naturally from these obscenities, that even those that are otherwise execrably wicked, have some sense of it. But I do not speak this as if Marriage itself were a sin as well as whoredom and adultery, for questionless it is permitted to the soul in this case she's in. But if she be not monstrous and degenerate, she cannot but be mindful that she is made for something far better. Observation 33. To this observation thou answerest like a man with reason and generosity and with a well beseeming wit, how unlike to thyself art thou here, Anthroposophos? Observation 34. I perceive by thy answer to this observation thou art not at all ocquaitted with Ramus what ere thou art with the Schoolmen, but I pass over this and come to what is of more moment. Page 71. line 19 This is one of your three designs. Yes, it is one of those three designs I taxed you for in the beginning of my Observations. And here I make it good out of your own text Anthroposophia pag. 33. line 1. These are your words. And now Reader, Arrige aures, come on without prejudice and I will tell thee that, which never hitherto hath been discovered. What can be more plain if you will but prick up your ears and attend to what you say yourself. But now I have discovered that this is but a boast of yours concerning a known Notion among the Christian Platonists, you begin to pluck in your ears and confess yourself a Plagiary. In the rest of your answer you do but teach your Grannam to crack nuts, I go on Magicus to the next. Observation 35. As a flame of one candle can light a thousand candles more. Your answer then to this Observation is this. That the Soul is propagated as light is from light; That there is a multiplication without decision or division. But for thine and the Readers fuller satisfaction I shall answer thee here, as thou somewhere demandest, in the verse of Spencer but in the reason and sense of More, out of these four Stanza's in my Canto of the Preexistency of the Soul. Wherefore who thinks from Souls new Souls to bring, The same let press the sun beams in his fist, And squeeze out drops of Light, or strongly wring The Rainbow, till it die his hands well pressed; Or with uncessant industry persist Th' intentional species to mash and bray In marble mortar, till he has expressed A Sovereign eyesalve to discern a Fay. As easily as the first all these effect you may. Ne may quaint Similes this fury damp, Which say that our souls propagation Is, as when lamp we lighten from a lamp, Which done withouten diminution Of the first light, shows how the soul of man Though indivisible may another rear Imparting life. But if we rightly scan This argument, it cometh nothing near. To light the lamp's to kindle the sulphureous gear. No substance new that act doth then produce. Only the oily atoms 't doth excite And wake into a flame. But no such use There is of humane Sperm. For our free spirit Is not the kindled seed, but substance quite Distinct there from. If not: Then bodies may So changed be by Nature and Stiff fight Of hungry stomaches, that what erst was clay Then herbs, in time itself in sense may well display. For than our Soul can nothing be but blood, Or nerves, or brains, or body modifyde; Whence it will follow that cold stopping crud Hard mouldy cheese, dry nuts, when they have rid Due circuits through the heart, at last shall speed Of life and sense, look through our thin eyes, And view the Close wherein the Cow did feed Whence they were milked; gross Py-crust will grow wise, And pickled Cucumbers sans doubt Philosophise. Observation 37. Bid adieu to thy reputation Mastix. Well, now I perceive that thou thinkest that thou hast hit the nail on the head indeed: But all that thou dost or canst collect from what is in my Preface to the Canto concerning the sleep of the Soul, is but this: that whether we see or imagine, that both of these are but the very Energy of the Soul, and that the Soul doth not, nor can perceive any thing immediately but her own Energy. But what of all this? It doth not thence follow that the inward and outward sense is all one, but only unitate genericâ. no more than if I should say, that to be an Animal is but to have, corporeal substance, life, and sense, it would thence follow that an horse and a man are all one. Look thee now, Magicus, how I have passed through this huge Mound and Bulwark of thine, with as much ease and stillness as a gliding Spirit through a Mudwall. I will only look back and laugh at thee Magicus, for a man of no Logic. But if any man doubt whether thou sayest blind men see in their sleep, it is apparent thou dost. For in thy Anthroposophia, Page 40. line 1. thou sayest, That the visible power is not destroyed as is plain in the dreams of blind men. Here if thou know'st what thou sayest, thou arguest from the effect to the cause, from the operation to the faculty, but is the operation of the Visive faculty (for thou dost barbarously call it visible) any thing else but seeing? therefore thou dost plainly assert that blind men see in their sleep. It would be well if they could walk in their sleep too: for than they would scarce have any loss of their eyes. Observation 38. Magicus, I do not altogether contemn the Symbols and Signatures of Nature, but I believe that Euphrasia or Eye-bright that hath the signature of the Eye, sees or feels no more, than the pulp of a walnut that hath the signature of the brain, doth understand or imagine. Observation 39 What a pitiful account dost thou give me here of the difficulties I urged thee with. My Queres were these, You making two Spirits in a man, the Rational and Sensitive. First, Whether the Rational Spirit doth not hear and see in a man? Here you distinguish. The Sensitive Spirit sees the Object (say you) and the Rational the Species. But I say unto thee, that Sensation is nothing else, but the perceiving of some present corporeal object; and that the Rational soul doth. For when two men discourse, that in them that reasons, hears the words, and sees the party with whom it reasoneth, does it not? Therefore they both see the object: But you will say, One sees by a species, the other without. I say nothing can be discerned without a species, that is, without an actual representation of the thing discerned: So that that distinction is in vain. And I would add this further, That every sentient spirit must perceive by its own species, and not by another's. But thou sayest, This sensitive Spirit like a glass represents the species of external objects. Then it seems the Sensitive spirits office is to be the glass of the Soul to see things in; but glasses themselves, Magicus, are not sentient, nor need this Spirit be so, that is the souls glass; and it is plain it is not. For if these two were two different sensitive spirits, than they would have two different Animadversions; but there is but one Animadversive spirit in a man, and therefore but one Sensitve. And that there is but one Animadversive spirit in a Man, is plain from hence, that if the Rational animadversive bestow its animadversion fully elsewhere, the Sensitive in man cannot perform the thousandth part of that which is performed in brutes. We should lose ourselves in the most trivial matters, when notwithstanding this sensitive spirit in man would have as quick a vehicle as in most brutes. Besides, this Sensitive spirit having this animadversion, would have also a Memory apart, and would be able while the Rational is busied about something else, to lay up observations such as Beasts do by itself; and then long after to show them to the Rational, to its sudden amazement and astonishment. But none of these things are. And in my apprehension it is in a very gross and palpable way sensible to me, that there is but one Animadversive in me, and I think I am no monster; If I be, it is (it seems) in that I am all rational spirit, and have had the luck to miss of the sensitive, the beast. Page 77. line 3. If this be true, then there be two hearing and seeing souls in a man. This is my second Quere; I asked if there be. To this you answer, Ha ha he! A very profound answer. This is no laughing matter, my friend. Have I not already showed you some difficulties, this asserting two sensitive Spirits in a man, is laden with? Answer them, Phil. I should gladly hear thee use thy tongue as well as see thee show thy teeth by laughing. For that slender faint reason that follows thy loud laughing, viz. The objects are different, and the senses are different, that is taken a way already. For the sting of my Argument is not this, that there would be two sensitive souls of the same nature in the body of a man; but that there should be two sensitive souls at all. And indeed, considering that the superior soul contains the faculties of the inferior, it is altogether needless. And that is a very sober truth, Entia non sunt multiplicanda sine necessitate: Which is to the same sense with that so often repeated in Aristotle and Theophrastus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, God and Nature do nothing in vain. And the right organization of parts, and due temperature of the body, and proportion of animal spirits, this is all the glass the Soul of man wants in this life to see by, or receive species from. But his glass hath no more sense itself, than an urinal or lookingglass hath. Where are you now, Phil. with your Ha ha he? Line 10. I could, Mastix, teach thee an higher truth. Yes truly, Magicus, you are best of all at those truths which dwell the highest. You love to soar aloft out of the ken of sense and reason, that you may securely Rant it there in words of a strange sound and no signification. But though thou fliest up so high, like a Crow that hath both his eyes bored out, yet I have thee in a string, and can pluck thee down for all thy fluttering. Thou sayest that a Soul may understand all things, sine conversione ad Phantasmata: this I suppose thou wouldst say to contradict Aristotle; but I do not suspect thee of so much learning as to have read him. He tells us in his book De Anima, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. that there is no understanding without Phantasms. Yond say that we may understand all things without them. What think you of individuals, Magicus? of which it is controverted amongst the Platonists, whether there be any Ideas of them or no. But being you are so confident an assertor, let's hear how stout a prover you are of your assertions. Know you this you have spoken by Sense, Reason, or divine Revelation? By this string I have plucked this blind Crow down; I have him as tame in my hand as a Titmouse: look how he pants, and gapes, and shows the white tip of his tongue, but says nothing. Go thy ways, Phil. for a pure Philosophic Thraso. Observation 41. Three quarters of a year hast thou spent, etc. O Magicus, Magicus! thou art youthful and vainglorious, and tellest thy Tutor that this hasty cookery thou entertainest him with, was dispatched and dressed up some ten days after the Press was delivered of my Observations. How many ten days dost thou mean, by thy some ten days? Thou wouldst have thy Tutor to struck thee on the head for a quick-parted lad, I perceive, Eugenius. But hadst thou not better have stayed longer, and writ better sense, more reason, and with less railing? But I poor slow beast! how long dost tho● think I was viewing and observing that other excellent piece of thine? I confess, Magicus, because thou forcest me to play the fool as well as thyself, I was almost three quarters of a Month about it; and how much more is that then some ten days, though but twice told over? and I will not be so curiously vainglorious, as to tell thee how great a share of this time was daily taken from me by necessary employments. This is to answer thy folly with folly. But I thank God that I glory in nothing, but that I feel myself an Instrument in the hand of God, to work the good of Men. The greatest strength of a man is weakness, and the power of Reason, while we are in this state, depends so much of the organs of the body, that its force is very uncertain and fickle. Is not the whole consistency of the body of Man, as a curdled cloud or coagulated vapour? and his Personality a walking shadow and dark imposture? All flesh is grass, and the glory thereof as the flower of the field: but the word of the Lord endureth for ever. Verily the people are as grass. Observation 42. Have at you my friends the Independents. The Independents indeed may be thy friends, Magicus; but I dare say thou art not in a capacity to be theirs, as having not yet wit and morality enough to be a friend unto thyself. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. A bad man cannot be friendly disposed towards himself, as having nothing in himself amiable and friendly, Aristot. Eth. ad Nicom. lib. 9 cap. 4. Observation 43. Mastix, You denied formerly the Scripture was intended for Philosophy. But you contending that it was, how fond do you prefer Agrippa before Moses and Christ. This you would have called blasphemy; but I have learned no such hard language. Observation 44. For the natural Queres ay put to thee here concerning the nature of Light, the Rainbow, the Flux and Reflux of the Sea, and the Loadstone; I tell thee thou wilt never be able to answer sense to them, unless thou turn Cartesian, and explain them out of that Philosophy. But in the General. I mean, That the heats which the Soul takes from personal admiration, make her neither wise, nor just, nor good; but only disturb the spirits, and disadvantage Reason. Observation 45. Page 81. line 2. Mastix would gladly put those asunder, whom God hath put together. You mean then that a Protestant and Christian, are termini convertibiles. What a rare Independent is Magicus! he is an Independent of the Church of England; which is as good sense as if he should say, he is a Protestant of the Church of Rome. Truly, Magicus, I think thou art an Independent in nothing but in thy Reasons and speeches; for in them indeed there is no dependency at all. They are Arena sine ●alce, and hang together like thum-ropes of sand. But before I be merry with thee; and I foresee I shall be when I come to thy verses, hear this sober Aphorism from me. If that those things which are confessedly true in Christianity were closely kept to by men, it would so fill and satisfy their souls with an inward glorious light and spiritual joy, that all those things that are with destroying zeal and unchristian bitterness prosecuted by this and that Church, would look all of them as contemptibly, as so many rush-candles in the light of the Sun. Line 15. You fall on my person. Well, I'll let your person go now, and fall on your Poetry. Where I believe, I shall prove you a notable wag indeed, and one that has abused your mother Oxford and all her children very slyly and dryly. Dry Punic statues. You make your own brothers of Oxford then so many dry Pumices, things that have no sap or juice in them at all. I wish you had been so too Phil, for you have been to me a foul wet Sponge, and have squeazed all your filth upon my person, as you call it. But if thou knewest how real a friend I am to thy person, excess of kindness would make thee lick it all off again. Might make a marble weep to bear your verse. It seems then by you that those of Oxford make such dull heavy verses, that it would make a Monument of Marble like an overladen Ass, weep to bear the burden of them. She heaved your fancies. What heavy leaden fancies are these that want such heaving. Up heavy heels. But how high did she heave them, Phil? As high as the other lead was heaved that covers the roof of your Churches and Chapels? Nay higher. Above the very Pinnacles, Mastix! She heaved your fancies higher than the pride of all her pinnacles. A marvellous height, but the Jackdaws of our University sit higher than thus, so it seems that the souls of the sons of your Mother Oxford are elevated, according to your Poetry, as high as the bodies of the Jackdaws in the University of Cambridge. What large elevated fancies have your Academics that reach almost as far as the eye and sense of an ordinary Rustic! Your phansie's higher than the Pinnacles, his sight higher than the Clouds, for he may see the Sun and the Stars too, if he be not blind. Go thy ways Phil, for an unmerciful wit. I perceive thou wilt not spare neither Father Presbyter as thou callest him, nor thy Mother, nor thine own Brothers, but thou wilt break thy jest upon them. Well I now forgive thee heartily for all thy abuses upon me, I perceive thou wilt not spare thy dearest friends. Observation 47. Thou art not well acquainted with Gold, thou art not a man of that Mettle. Here, Magicus, thy want of Logic hath made thee a little witty. For if thou hadst understood that Comparison doth not always imply any positive degree in the things compared, this conceit had been stifled before the birth. Thou sayest somewhere, that I am a thin, lean Philosopher; but I say, I am as fat as a hen is on the forehead. Whether do I profess myself lean or fat now? As lean as thou dost. Now when I say as Orient as false gold, do I say that false gold is Orient. Thou art a mere Auceps syllabarum, Magicus, or to look lower, a Mouse-catcher in Philosophy. Observation 48. Philalethes, say you, writ this book to revenge his death. No, Now I think you mention his death, only to bring this latin sentence into your Book. Et quis didicit scribere in lucta lacrymarum & Atramenti. Observation 49. I excluded not thy censure but thy mercy. Thy words are, I expose it not to the mercy of man but of God. But it is no exposal or hardship at all to be exposed to mercy, therefore by mercy thou must needs understand censure. Page 86. line 2. You skud like a dog by Nilus. Here your fancy is handsome and apposite to what you would express, but that which you would express is false. For I fear no Crocodile, but the fate of Aesop's dog who catching at the shadow lost the substance. Because I more than suspect that there is nothing real in those places I passed by, but only tremulous shadows of an unsettled fancy. Page 87. line 21. Did not I bid thee proceed to the censure of each part? What is your meaning, Philalethes! That you would have me confute all, right or wrong? No, Phil, I have done as S. George in his combat with the Drogon, thrust my spear under the Monster's wing, into the parts which are most weak or least scaly. What I have excepted against was with judgement and reason, and so good, that all that I have said hitherto, stands as strong and unshaken of thy weak reasonings and impotent raylings, as rocks of Adamant and Pillars of Brass at the shooting off of a Child's Eldern-Gunne against them. Let's now see how like a Man thou hast quit thyself in the ensuing Discourse. Anima Magica Abscondita. SECT. IX. The shrimpishnesse of the second part of Eugenius his Answer. His maimed definition of Nature. That Form is not known otherwise then by its operations. Of the union of the Soul with the Body. That the Soul is not Intelligent Fire proved by sundry arguments. WEll, Eugenius, I have now perused this second part of thy Answer, which doth not answer at all in proportion to thy first. How lank! how little is it! Thou hast even wearied thyself with scolding, and now thou art so good natured as to draw to an end. Faint, Phil, Faint? let me feel thy pulse. Assuredly it strikes a Myurus, which is a sign thou art languid at the heart. Or is thy book troubled with the Cramp, and so hath its legs twitched up to its breech? or hath it been on Procrustes his bed and had the lower parts of it cut off? Whatever the Cause is, the Effect is apparent; that thou art wrinkled up at the end like a Pig's tail, and shrivelled on heaps like a shred of parchment. How many sober passages of Morality? How many weighty Arguments of Reason? How many Froli●ks of wit hast thou slipped over and not so much as mentioned, much less applied any suitable answer? But I hope thou wilt make good use of them silently with thyself, and rectify thy fancy hereafter by my judgement, though thou thinkest it as harsh, as standing on the Presbyterial stool, to give me public thanks. In the mean time, Reader, be contented, that I only reply to what he hath thought good to oppose. But what he runs away from so cowardly, I will not run after him with it, nor be so cruel as to force him to abide. Observation 1. Page 91. line 9 It is plain then, that the body and substance of the definition is contained in these few words, Principium motûs & quietis. Why, Magicus, because you make up the rest with thinking? Suppose thy Picture were drawn to the waste, & thou thoughtest of the rest of thy body. Doth that picture therefore contain the full draught of thy body? Away, thou Bird of Athens. Observation 2. You tell me a form cannot be known otherwise then by what it can do or operate. I told thee so Phil, and do tell thee so again. And thou only deniest it, thou dost not disprove it; wherefore Phyllis is mine yet, and not the willow Garland; but the willow Rod is thine, for not learning this plain lesson any better all this while. For, (to speak to thy own sense and conceit of the Soul, that it is an Intelligent Fire, or Light) thou canst not frame any notion of Intelligent, but from intellectual operations; nor of Light, but from what it operates upon thy sense, thy sight; which is a truth most evidently plain to any man that is not stark blind. Page 92. line 5. You say Mastix, I have not considered the difference added in the definition of Nature. No, You had not when you cavilled at the Genus, as angry at it, because it did not monopolise the whole office of the definition to itself, and supply also the place of a Difference. Fond Cavil! But thou supposed'st, it seems, that I would never deign to answer so unclean an Adversary as thou hast shown thyself, and that thy Readers would never take the pains to see whether thou spoke true or false; and that hath made thee say any thing, & that with undaunted confidence and foulest insultations, that the simple might be sure to believe thee, without any more ado. Eugenius, enjoy thou the applause of the simple. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.— But one wise man to me is as much as ten thousands of such, and infinite swarms of them not so much as one. I am fully of Heraclitus his mind for that, Philalethes. Observation 3. Here, Philalethes, you contemning Definitions made from the proper Operations of the things defined, I intimate to you, that you necessarily imply, that you look after the knowledge of a starknaked substance, which is impossible ever to be had. What do you answer to this? Nothing. Let the Reader judge else. Observation 4. Let any body compare thy Finihabia with the expositions of those terms 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, made by julius Scaliger (for it is he that is more cunning at nonsense then the devil, not I) and he shall find that thou hast spent a page and an half here to no purpose, but only to show some few faint flashes of wit. For at last thou dost acknowledge the aptness and significancy of the words, but still complainest that there is no news of the substance of the soul in them. To which I answer again, A substance is a thing impossible to be known otherwise then by its proper operations, or peculiar relations to this or that, as I have often inculcated. But how do you take away this answer? Only by making a wry mouth, Away! away! Have I not already demonstrated unto thee, that it is impossible to know substances themselves, but only by their operations? Here he answers again, that that cannot be; For then a Ploughman would be as wise as himself, and mother Bunch as his mother Oxenford. But to satisfy this inconvenience, (if it be any, to grant a Ploughman wiser than thou art) I say, Thou and thy mother may be wiser than a Ploughman in other things, though not in this; and in this, if your notion be more adequate and precise than his is, that is, If you are able, according to the Rules of Logic, to examine whether your assertion may go for an axiom, that is, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and are able to rest satisfied, by finding yourselves to know according to the capacity of the subject. But now, Phil. you endeavour to go so far beyond the Ploughman, that you fall short of him, and reach at so high strains, that you have strained yourself till you seem half cracked to the sober. For this truth, That a Substance is not to be known, but by its proper operations, is a truth so clear, that it is clear that he is destitute of sight and judgement, that doth not discern it even at the first proposal. Observation 5, 6, 7. What thou answerest to these 5th, 6th, and 7th Observations is nothing at all to the purpose, and therefore to no purpose at all to answer any thing to them, as I have already said in the like case, and I must leave something to the candour and judgement of the Reader. Observation 8. Page 97. line 1. Mastix, you place the difficulty in the Rudiments or Sperms, because they are lax and fluid. No, Magicus, but I do not. For I think they are always so, or else the Ratio Seminalis would have a hard task of it. But when thou sayest, That the Anima in the Matter missing a vent, etc. the difficulty is, how a thing so subtle as a Soul is, should miss a vent in so lax a matter as the first Rudiments of life. This is the difficulty, Magicus. But thou understandest not the force of any thing I propound to thee, thy apprehension is so out of tune with straining at high things nothing to the purpose. But I perceive, though thou wouldst dissemble it, Magicus, that I have beat thee from the Bunghole, and that rude expression borrowed thence. And now thou art as busy as a Moth about a candle, to fetch a Metaphor thence. For thou tellest us, that this union is like that betwixt the candle and the flame. This indeed for some Poetical illustration may do well: but what Philosophical satisfaction is there in it, Philalethes? For first, the flame is without the candle, not in it; but the Soul within the body, not without it. Secondly, the flame is ●n effect of the candle, but the Soul is not an effect of the body, the body is not the pabulum thereof, and the very substance of which it is made, by superinducing a new modification. Thirdly, and lastly, the Soul is still the same individual soul; but the flame is no more the same flame, than the water betwixt such and such banks of the river, is still the same water, If thou hadst put thy finger into thy nose, and said, Lo the mystery of the union of the Soul and Body; it had been as much Philosophical satisfaction as this, from the union of flame and candle. Thou pitiful puzzled thing! thou are not yet able to weigh what thou sayest. And now I have driven thee from the flame of the candle, thou hast scudded away quite into the dark, flown to I know not what strange obscure expressions, a story, of old grand-dame Nature, with a set Ruff and a gold chain about her neck, which thou callest propinquity of Complexions, and I know not what. I prithee how much doth this differ from Sympathy and Antipathy, which all knowing men call Asylum ignorantiae: and now I have driven thee thither, I will leave thee in that Sanctuary of fools, What I have said, I have already made good, That the Souls union with the Body is more theomagical than Magicus himself is aware of. Observation 9 Page 98. line 16. This aethereal sense and Fire of simple Air, both which he makes to be one and the same thing. All that I say there is, That those verses are understood of the vehicle of the soul, not of the soul itself; and it is Theupolus his opinion as well as mine, who citys those verses of Virgil, and gives that sense of them; to wit, that the twofold vehicle of the soul is there meant, the Aethereal and Spirituous, not the Soul itself, Academic. Contemplate. lib. 4. So that Virgil doth not at all patronise thy gross conceit of making the Soul consist of fire and air. Page 99 line 10. I grant the soul to be a hodily substance that hath dimensions too. Why Phil? Is there any bodily Substances without dimensions? I could very willingly grant thee a mere body without a soul, thou hast so little reason and sense in thee; or if thou hast a soul, that it is a corporeal one, and it may well be so: But my question is meant of souls that have Sense and Reason in them, whether they be corporeal substances or no? Yes, say you, they are. They are intelligent Fire and Light. I say, Phil. thou art all fire, but no light, nor intelligent at all. Thou art the hottest fellow that ever I met with in all my days, as hot as a Tailor's Goose when it hisseth, and yet as dark. But let's endeavour (if it be possible) to vitrify thy opake carcase, and transmit a little light into th●e. Dost thou know then what fire is? how it is a very fluid body, whose particles rest not one by another, but fridge one against another, being very swiftly and variously agitated. In this condition is the matter of fire. But now I demand of thee; Is there any substance in this fire thou speakest of, (for thou sayest it is really fire, and usest no Metaphor) which we may call the essential Form thereof, or no? If there be, I ask thee whether that Form be Intelligent or no? If it be, then that is the soul, and this subtle agitated matter is ●ut the vehicle. But if thou wilt say, that the subtle fiery matter is the Intelligent Soul, see what inconveniencies thou entanglest thyself in. For Fire being as homogeneal a body as water is, and having all the parts much what alike agitated; how can this fire do those offices that commonly are attributed to the soul? First, how can it organize the body into so wise a structure and contrivement, the parts of this fire tending as much this way as that way, or at least tending only one way, suppose upward. Secondly, how can it inform the whole body of an Embryo in the womb, and of a grown man? For if it was but big enough for the first, it will be too little for the latter; unless you suppose it to grow, and to be nourished. But thus, you will not have the same Individual Soul you was Christened with, and must be forced to turn not only Independent, but Anabaptist, that your new soul may be baptised; for it is not now the same that you was Christened with before. For I say, that ten spoonfuls of water added to one should rather individuate the whole, then that one of that whole number should individuate the ten. Thirdly, how can it move itself, or the body in a spontaneous way? For all the particles of this fiery matter wriggling and playing on their own centres, or jointly endeavouring to tend upwards, makes nothing to a spontaneous motion, no more than the Atoms of dust that are seen playing in the Sun beams, striking through a chink of a wall into a dark room, can conspire into one spontaneous motion, and go which way they please. Wherefore I say, there ought to be some superintendent Form that takes hold of all these fiery particles and commands them as one body, and guides them this way or that way, and must be the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of this fiery substance, that is, There must be such an essence in this fiery matter (and that is noted by the preposition 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) as doth 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that doth hold together, that doth drive this way, according to its nature or will, and yet thus driving doth keep possession of this fiery Matter; and what is this but ● Soul? not the indument, the smock or petticoat of the Soul as thou call'st it. Eugenius, thou art old excellent at finding out naked essences, it seems, that takest the garment for the body. Thou art so young that thou canst not distinguish betwixt a living barn, and a baby made of clouts. But this is not all that I have to say Phil. Fourthly, I say that this Fire cannot be the Soul, because fire is devoid of sense. I but you say you understand an Intelligent fire. Learnedly answered, and to as much purpose as if you should say, that a Soul is a Post or a Pillar, and then you should distinguish and tell me; you meant an Intelligent Post or Pillar, but I say Fire hath no more sense than a Post or Pillar has reason. For if it have sense, it must have that which the Schools call Sensus communis. And now tell me Phil, to which of all the playing particles of this Ignis fatuus of thine thou wilt appoint the office of the Sensus communis, or why to any one more than to the rest? But if thou appoint all, there will be as many several sensations, as there are particles: Indeed so many distinct living things. And thou wilt become more numerous within, than the possessed in the Gospel, whose name was Legion, because they were many. But if thou wilt pitch upon any one particle above the rest, tell me where it is? In the middle or at the outside of this fire? I will interpret thee the most favourably, and answer for thee; In the middle. But I demand of thee, Why shall this in the middle have the privilege of being the Sensus Communis rather then any other, or how will it be able to keep itself in the middle in so fluid a body? And if it were kept there, what privilege hath it but what the most of the rest have, as well as it, to make it fit for the office of a Sensus Communis? For it must be, either because it is otherwise moved on its Centre, than the other are on theirs, which you can not prove either to be, or if it were, to be to any purpose: Or it must be, because it hath some advantage in consideration of the joint motion of the particles. Let the joint motion therefore of the particles be either rectilinear or circular. If rectilinear, as suppose in a square, let the process of motion be from side to side parallel. Hath not then any particle in a right line that is drawn through the centre of this Square figure, parallel to two of the sides, equal advantage for this office (the transmission of outward sense being perpendicular to the said right line) that the middle particle hath? For thus it can receive but what comes in one line, transmission of sense being parallel, as is supposed. Nay, the points of any other inward line parallel to this, will do as well as the points of this middle line, which is as plainly true, as two and two is four, if thou understandest sense when it is propounded to thee. Well, but it may be you may think you can mend yourself by supposing the joint motion of this fiery matter to be circular. I say no. For then that of this motion, that respects external objects is from the Centre to the Circumference, as it is plain in that ordinary experiment of a Sling. And thus motion is from the middle particle, not towards it. But you should say here, if you could answer so wisely, that motion bearing forward from this centre toward the object, that reciprocally the object will bear against it; and so there will be a transmission of sense round about from all the circumferential parts of this fiery Orb which thou called'st the naked soul. But I say, Magicus, if the middle point of this Orb get the place of the Sensus Communis, because there is a common transmission of motion from sensible Objects thereunto: I say then that there be more Sensus Communes in this Orb than One, because such transmissions as are not perpendicular to this Orb, will meet in several points distant from the middle point or centre of this Orb, and there are enough such external transmissions as these. I might add also, that the middle point or particle being though a minute one, yet a body, and consequently divisible, that that will also bid fair for a multiplicity of Common Senses. But I will add only this, That I hope to see the day wherein thou wilt be so wise as to be able to confess, that the Author of Anthroposophia Theomagica, etc. was the most confident Ignaro that ever wet paper with ink. But before I leave this fourth argument, let me only cast in one thing more which equally respects both Hypotheses, either of rectilinear or circular motion. And that's this, If any one particle of this fiery substance be the Common sense, it must be also the principle of spontaneous motion to the whole substance. For we see plainly that that which hath the Animadversive faculty in man, or the office of Common sense, moves the whole man, or that the motion of him is directed at the beck of this. But I prithee Phil, tell me if thou canst possibly imagine, that any one particle in this fiery substance should be able to impress spontaneous Motion upon the whole; I know thou canst not but think it impossible. Fifthly, if the Soul be fire (fire being so fluid and unsteady a substance) how can there be any memory in it? You remember that expression in Catullus, whereby he would set forth sudden obliteration and forgetfulness of things, that it is like writing in the Water or in the Air, In vento aut rapidâ scribere oportet aquâ. But what think you of fire then, will that consistency bear more durable characters? The perpetual fridging and toying of the fiery particles dorh forthwith cancel whatever is impressed, and now there is neither Common sense nor Memory to be found in your fire, we may be secure there is no Reason to be found there. For the Discursive Faculty requires some 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, something fixed to tread upon as well as the Progressive: But in your fire all is afloat, nothing fixed. Sixthly and lastly, If the Soul of man be either fire or air, or both, I do not see that it will prove immortal; but that its consistency will be dispersed and scattered like the clouds. It will not be able to conflict with the boisterous winds, or scape blowing out, or being lost in the thin air, as other flames are, it once being uncased of the armature of the body. And these Vehicles which you will have to be the very Soul itself, they being so changeable and passive within the body, it will not be absurd with Lucretius to infer that they will be utterly dissolved when they are without: Haec igitur tantis ubi morbis corpore in ipso jactentur, miserísque modis distracta laborent, Cur eadem credis sine corpore, in aere aperto, Cum validis ventis aetatem degere posse? To this sense, If in the body racked with tort'rous pain And tossed with dire disease they're wearied so; This shelter lost, how can they then sustain The strong assaults of stormy winds that blow? I tell thee Phil, such a Soul as thou fanciest would be no more able to withstand the winds, than the dissipable clouds, nor to understand any more sense than a Soul of clouts, or thy own Soul doth. But now I have so fully confuted thy gross opinion of the Soul, it may be happily expected that I would declare mine own. But Phil, I only will declare so much, that I do not look on the Soul as a Peripatetical atom, but as on a spiritual substance, without corporeal dimensions, but not destitute of an immaterial amplitude of Essence, dilatable and contractible. But for further satisfaction in this point, I refer to my Philosophical Poems. And do profess that I have as distinct, determinate, and clear apprehension of these things, and as wary and coherent, as I have of any corporeal thing in the world. But Heat and Fantastry to suddled minds are as good companions as Caution and Reason to the sober. But the durableness of that satisfaction is uncertain, whereas solid Reason is lasting and immutable. SECT. X. The Confutation of Eugenius his Magical Chain explained and confirmed. His arguments for knowledge or understanding in the Seminal Forms of things utterly subverted. The fondness of his definition of the first principle of his Clavis: A demonstration that the stars receive not any light from the Sun. Eugenius taxed of Enormous incivility. Mastix his friend vindicated. His Conjecture of Magia Adamica. His censure of the present ill temper of Eugenius. Observation 10. Pag. 101. MY Book also informs you that this Descent of light proceeds not from any weight, but from a similitude and Symbol of Nature. You are indeed very good at similitudes Phil. as I have proved heretofore out of your skill in Zoography. But this is another business. For here you profess to speak of the symbolising and sympathising of things one with another in Nature, and so mutually moving to union, by a kind of attractive power, according to that saying 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Well be it so that there is a mutual attractive power in things that symbolise one with another (for the attraction is mutual as well as the similitude mutual) What is this to take away what I have objected? Nothing. But I will show you how you are hanged in your own chain. For it is as plain, as one of the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that where two things of the same nature act, the greater is stronger, and the stronger prevails. Wherefore three portions of light should fetch up two, or five one; rather then one should fetch down three, or five, or two. This is the bare point of my reason which I covered with a double comparison. viz. from the greater number of the links of a Chain preponderating the less number, and from the greater portion of Earth prevailing over the less; as in that instance, when a clod taken from the earth and let go in the free air, the earth commands it back to itself again, according to that conceit of Magnetisme. And here the argument was à pari, not à specie, and there may be a collation of parity even in contraries. And your ignorance of that Logical Notion, hath enabled you to rail so much, and speak so little to the purpose on this Observation, as any Logician may very easily discern. Observation 13. Page 103. line 14. Answer if thou darest to any one of these Questions. Assure thyself, Eugenius, I can give a very rational answer to every one of them. But for thy sake I think fit to answer none of them. But what is in my Philosophical Poems will salve them all. I will now rather examine what force of Arguments you have to prove that that which orders Matter into shape and form, is Animadversive and Intelligent. Your first Argument is; that if there were no Animadversion in the Ratio Seminalis, (or call it what you will) that shapes the Matter into Form, the Agent would mistake in his work. Secondly, That he would work he knew not what, nor wherefore, and that therefore all Generations would be blind Casualties. Thirdly, there would not be that Method, infallibility of Action nor proportion and Symmetry of parts in the work. Fourthly and Lastly, That there would be no End nor Impulsive cause to make him to work. To all these unsound Reasons, I have already answered very solidly and truly; That the force of them reached no further than thus: That the Ratio Seminalis must at least proceed from something that is knowing, and be in some sense Rational, but not have reason and animadversion in itself. And this is the opinion of Plotinus, Marsilius Ficinus, and all the Platonists that I have met with. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. Ennead. 2. lib. 3. To this sense. For the Ratio Seminalis acts in the Matter, and that which acts thus naturally, neither understands nor sees, but hath only a power to transform the Matter, not knowing any thing, but making only as it were a form or shape in the water. And Ficinus compares this Ratio Seminalis, to an Artifice cut off from the mind of the Artificer and made self-subsistent, and able to work upon prepared matter, but without knowledge, as being disjoined from all animadversive essence. This is the right notion of the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. And this fully takes away the force of all your Arguments. For these being divine art embodied in Nature and Matter, and working naturally, they will First, Mistake no more, than a Stone will in its journey downwards, or the Fire in its course upward; which go always right, if no external obstacle hinder them. And these will work right, if the Matter be duly prepared. Secondly, Though they work they know not what, yet they work right in virtue of that cause from whence they came, the divine Intellect: and their operation is no more casual than the ascent of Fire, and descent of Earth; for it is natural. Thirdly, This third falls in with the second, and the same answer will serve both. Fourthly, There is an Impulsive cause and End of their working, though unknown to them, yet not unknown to the Author of them. As in the orderly motion of a Watch the Spring knows not the end of its Motion, but the Artificer doth. Yet the watch moves, and orderly too, and to a good End. But this fourth falls in also with the second or first. And you see now that they are indeed all fallen to nothing at all. So easily is Confidence overcome when unbacked with solid Reason. Observation 16, 19 Page 107. line 5. Did ever man scribble such ridiculous impertinencies? Never any man before Eugenius Philalethes. But why will you scribble such stuff, Phil. that will put you to the pains of reproaching of it when you have done? My exception against your definition of the first principle of your Clavis was as solid as merry. For, One in one, and One from one, is no definition of any one thing in the world. For definitio, or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, is a bounding and limiting what you define. But here is no bounds nor limits at all. For every thing that is, is One in one, and One from one, viz. in one world and from one God. And then in your other attempt this way, to define it, A pure white Virgin walking in shades and Tiffanies, is a mere foolery in Philosophy, and teacheth nothing but that your fancy is very feminine. Now in answer to all this, you contrive two ridiculous paralogisines, and then laugh at them when you have done. Page 108. line 8. Made their God jupiter an Adulterer. And you Eugenius, bestow a wife on the God of Israel, and make her after an Adulteress, and then call me blasphemous for deriding your folly. Page 109. line 14. Which thou dost blasphemously call pitiful services. Yes, Philalethes, And I ought to call them so, in comparison of that high good that is intended to us by Scripture. They are pitiful things indeed in comparison of that. And thou art a pitiful fellow to make an Independent of, that hast no more wit nor Christianity in thee then to call this blasphemy. But a man may easily discern how religious thou art, though by Moon light, at the latter end of the 110 page, where thou dost display thine own Immomodesty, by talking of displaying of Petticoats. Observation 20. Line 5. The Stars could not receive any light from the Sun. Now you show how wise you are, in straining at so high a Philosophical notion. I tell thee, Phil. the Stars cannot receive any light from the Sun, no more than this earth can from one single star. For the Sun to our sight at the distance he is from the fixed stars, would seem no bigger than they, if so big. For according to the computation of Astronomers, the stars of the first magnitude are really far bigger than the sun: yet you see how little light they impart to the earth, and how very small they appear to us. And yet the lively vibration of their light shows plainly that it is their own, not borrowed. So that it is plain, that if the Sun and Stars be Man and Wife, this immense distance makes them live in a perpetual divorce. Observation 26. Line 17. Now at last Reader, he perceives his error, and grants it no death but a change. Therefore there needed none of your Correction. And I wish you could of yourself perceive yours too, that you may need none of mine. But I perceive by what follows here, thou dost not know my meaning by Spiritus Medicus. Which I pardon in thee, thou dost so seldom understand thy own. Observation 42. 46. Line 12. Otherwise grass could not grow on the banks of it all the year long. I said the fringes of Reeds and Flags, and those gayer ornaments of herbs and flowers, could not grow all the year long on the banks of Yska, if it were a river in Great Britain or Ireland. What is now become of thy faint Ha ha he? Line 14. He thinks Yska runs to heaven. Do I so, Phil? why than I gave thee friendly counsel when I bid thee fling thyself into its stream. For than thou wouldst with ease have gone along with the stream to heaven, when others are fain to row hard against the stream, and scarce arrive thither when they have done all they can. I knew thy meaning by thy mumping, Phil. but thou expressedst it so disadvantagiously, that thou gavest me good occasion to be merry with thee. But thou hast no mirth nor urbanity at all in thee, but wrath and foul language, which without any heed or discretion thou flingest upon every one that comes in thy way. And here in this 114 page, thou bidst fair for the calling of that noble Philosopher Des-Cartes, knave, as heretofore thou didst call him fool. What Wit, Civility, or Judgement is there in this Philalethes? Thou art resolved to be recorded to posterity the most immortal and ignorant man that ever appeared yet in public. But thou hast as much confuted his Philosophy, by saying it is a Whim and a Wham, as thou hast solidly answered thy Observatour. I have made it apparent, that thou hast not spoke sense scarce to any one thing I objected against thee. But hast discovered thy gross ignorance in Logic and Philosophy so far, that I profess I did not suspect thou hadst been any thing near so weak as I have found thee: but I willingly leave the censure of it to the Judicious. I will only speak thus much in favour to thee and for thy excuse, that the strength of thy passion may very well have more then ordinarily weakened thy reason. Now for that Ingenuous young Gentleman, the smartness of whose Poetry hath so wrung thee, and vexed thy guts, that it hath brought upon thee the Passio Iliaca, and made thee so foul mouthed, I will only say so much, Phil. and speak within compass, that he hath more wit and Philosophy in one hair of his head, than thou hast in thy whole noddle. And that his verse was not obedient to my prose; but the Muses were very obsequious to his wit and humour of representing thee such as thou art. And in this only he was no Poet, in that he doth not write Fictions as thou dost in prose. But it seems he hath so paid thee home, that the sense of my gentle strokes are struck out by his quicker lash. For thou sayest I am a good harmless sneaking Observatour, thy Ala●. that is, thy, thou know'st not what, but no Mastix by no means, but only one that gave thee a flap with a fox-tail. Verily, thou sayest true, I did not intend to hurt thee, and thou makest me so weak as if I were not able. Why dost thou raise then so mighty Trophies upon the victory of so harmless and unable an enemy? For as inconsiderable as I am, to make himself considerable to the world, he makes a Colosse, a Giant, a Monster of nine acres long of me. But how can this consist with thy putting me up into a little box. Parturiunt montes— or rather, Debiscunt montes, tandem intrat ridiculus mus. The Colosse falls, the Mountains gape, and at length enters in the merry Mouse. An excellent jest my Masters! But why into a box with wire grates, rather than into an iron cage, as Tamburlaine used Bajazeth, and so carried him up and down in triumph? I wonder thou didst not take this jest by the Turkish Moustaches, rather than that. But this it is, to have a wit no larger than a Mouse-catchers; or a fancy heaved up no higher than the pinnacles of Oxenford. Thou wilt in time, Phil. make a fellow of a fit size to show the Lions and Rattoon at the Tower; and I suppose thou fawnest upon the Independents so as thou dost, to get their good will for the next reversion of that office. But enough my Philalethes, of levity and folly. I will not abuse my liberty to excess, only let me in some way answer the expectation of those that may happily expect my censure of thy Magia Adamica. But I shall not so much answer it, as frustrate it: for I profess, I take no pleasure in the censuring of any man's writings; I can employ myself better. I was in a very merry frolic when I ventured upon this; yet the Judicious may discern that there was sobriety enough at the bottom of all that mirth. But as for this Magia Adamica, I confess I have not read it; but I do favourably conjecture, that the Author thereof is as well skilled in those books of Magic that Adam read by the fireside in winter nights, while Eve held to him the candle, as any young man is in these European parts. I let Adamicus alo●e, my business is only with Anthroposophus, over whom now I having so full a victory, it will be expected, perhaps, that I lead him about in triumph. But I must answer my friends in Christian soberness, that I am the right Philalethes, a lover of truth more than a lover of victory, and of victory more than of triumph; — satis est prostrásse leoni. Only I will say, not of his Person, but of that Dispensation and Genius in which he is in for the present; Lo, there lies the contagious spectrum of Ephesus, which I have discovered to be the pest of the Commonwealth of learning, and of humane and divine reason, as much as that demoniacal imposture was the walking plague of that famous city: and now he hath been pelted a little with hard language, as Apollonius commanded the Ephesians to stone that hypocritical old Mendicant with stones, he appears in the very same shape with him at the uncovering of the heap, that is, an uggly huge black Mastiff sprawling for life, and foaming forth abundance of filthy stinking scum, after the manner of mad dogs. And thus have I approved myself wise as Apollonius, in discovering imposture; and valiant as Hercules, who overmastered that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as Dionysius calls him, that brazen-barking Cerberus. SECT. XI. Mastix his Oration to the men of Ephesus. A threefold dispensation under which Christians are. The way to be delivered from the Impostures and Fooleries of the second Dispensation. The nature of the third Dispensation or second Covenant. In what sense Mastix is Puritan or Independent. That he is above all Sects whatsoever as Sects. The Transfiguration of his inward man into a breathing Colosse, speaking from Heaven, and what he thence utters. That Mastix is no Enthusiast for all this. His friendly and faithful Monitions to Eugenius, freely discovering to him the true causes of his being defeated in his great designs upon Fame, and Knowledge. That a wise man will not only not be hurt but be profited by his Enemy. ANd now, O men of Ephesus! I mean all you that reap the fruit of this noble exploit of mine, rear me up my deserved Trophy, and inscribe this Tetrastich upon it, for an everlasting monument of your gratitude to me, and love to the truth: Religions Heat as yet unpurged quite From fleshly sense and self, when't makes a stir About high Mysteries above Reason's light, Is at the bottom but a rabid Cur. But that I may conceal nothing from you, O men of Ephesus, I must tell you, that whether you rear up this monument, or whether you forbear all is one. For the truth of these verses is already written in the corner stones of the Universe, and engraven on the lasting pillars of Eternity. Heaven and earth may pass away, but no● one tittle of this truth shall pass away. High and windy Notions do but blow up and kindle more fiercely the fire of Hell in the hearts of men, from whence is Pride, and Contention, and bitter Zeal. This is the pest and plague of Mankind, and the succeeding torture of the sons of Adam. For while the mind of man catcheth at high things, of which she is uncapable till she be refined and purged, she doth but fire the frame of her little world by her overbusy Motion, which burning in gross fuel, fills all with smoke. And thus the Soul is even smothered and stifled in her narrow mansion. Her first enlargement here must therefore be, by Temperance and Abstemiousnesse: For without this breathing-hole for fresh air, Devotion itself will choke her still more and more, heating her thick and polluted spirits in such sort, that they cannot be sufficiently rectified by the power of the brain. But in this Dispensation especially is lodged a strong voice, weak sense, and a rude contempt of any thing that will trouble the head, as Reason, Philosophy, or any but ordinary subtlety in learning. But they love Christ very heartily after their gross way, as their Protector and Securer from what outward evil naturally attends so bad an inward condition. But being so immersed in brutish sense, and yet with conscience of sin; if any body have but the trick to persuade them that Sin is but a name, he will be a very welcome Apostle to them, and they will find more ease to their beastly nature, in fancying nothing to be sin, than they did in making their Hypocritical addresses to an offended Saviour. And then (poor souls) through the foulness of the flesh, are they easily inveigled into Atheism itself. In so great danger are we of the most mischievous miscarriages, by contemning of tho●● known and confessed virtues of Temperance, Continence, and Chastity. But we'll suppose Men in a great measure temperate; yet how far off are they still from real happiness in themselves, or from not disturbing the happiness of others, so long as Envy, Ambition, Covetousness, and Self-respect doth still lodge in them? Here indeed Reason may happily get a little more elbow-room; but it will be but to be Patron to those vices, and to make good by Argument harsh opinions of God, and peremptorily to conclude the power of Christ weaker than the force of sin. And the Fancy in these something more refined Spirits, will be more easily figurable into various conceits, but very little to the purpose. Of which some must go for sober Truths, and those that are more fully shining, in the midst of a shadowy Melancholized imagination, must bid fair for Divine Inspiration, though neither Miracle nor Reason countenance them. But you, O men of Ephesus! if any one tell you strange devises, and forbid you the use of your Reason, or the demanding of a Miracle; you will be so wise as to look upon him as one that would bid you wink with your eyes, that he might the more easily give you a box of the Ear, or put his hand into your Pockets. Now out of this Second Dispensation, innumerable swarms of Sects rise in all the world. For Falsehood and Imagination is infinite, but Truth is one. And the benignity of the Divine Spirit, having no harbour in all this variety of religious Pageantry; Envy, Covetousness, and Ambition must needs make them bustle, and tear all the word in pieces, if the hand of Providence did not hold them in some limits: Quin laniant mundum; tanta est discordia fratrum: as he saith of the winds. In this Dispensation lodgeth Anger and active Zeal concerning Opinions and Ceremonies, Uncertainty and Anxiety touching the purposes of God, and a rigid injudicious Austerity, of which little comes but the frighting men off from Religion: which notwithstanding if it be had in the truth thereof, is the most cheerful and lovely thing in the world. These men having not reached to the Second Covenant, will also thank any body that could release them from the First, For whereas true Religion is the great joy and delight of them that attain to it, theirs is but their burden. And so it is not impossible that these may be also wound off to the depth of wickedness, and sink also in time even to Atheism itself. For what is real in them will work, but what is imaginary will prove itself ineffectual. Wherefore, is it not far better for men to busy all their strength in destroying those things which are so evidently destructive of humane felicity, then to edge their spirits with fiery notions and strange Phantasms, which pretend indeed to the semblance of deep mysterious knowledge and divine speculation; but do nothing hinder but that the black dog may be at the bottom, as I said before? But you will ask me, How shall we be rid of the Importunity of the impostures and fooleries of this Second Dispensation. But I demand of you, Is there any way imaginable but this? viz. To adhere to those things that are uncontrovertedly good and true, and to bestow all that zeal, and all that heat, and all that pains for the acquiring of the simplicity of the life of God, that we do in promoting our own Interest, or needless and doubtful Opinions. And I think it is without controversy true to any that are not degenerate below men, that Temperance is better than Intemperance, Justice then Injustice; Humility then Pride, Love then Hatred, and Me●cifulnesse than Cruelty. It is also uncontrovertedly true, that God loves his own Image, and that the propagation of it is the most true dispreading of his glory; as the Light which is the Image of the Sun, is the glory of the Sun. Wherefore it is as plainly true, that God is as well willing, as able to restore this Image in men, that his glory may shine in the world. This therefore is the true Faith, to believe that by the power of God in Christ we may reach to the participation of Divine Nature: Which is a simple, mild, benign light, that seeks nothing for itself as itself; but doth tenderly and cordially endeavour the good of All, and rejoiceth in the good of All, and will assuredly meet them that keep close to what they plainly in their consciences are convinced is the leading to it. And I say, that sober Morality, conscientiously kept to, is like the morning light reflected from the higher clouds, and a certain Prodrome of the Sun of Righteousness itself. But when he is risen above the Horizon, the same virtues than stream immediately from his visible body, and they are the very members of Christ according to the Spirit. And he that is come hither, is a pillar in the Temple of God for ever and ever; for he teacheth the Second Covenant, whic he can in no more likelihood break, then lay violent hands on himself to the taking away of his natural life. Nay, that will be far more easy than this; for a man may kill himself in a trice, but he cannot extinguish this Divine life without long and miserable torture. If this be to be a Puritan, Eugenius, I am a Puritan. But I must tell thee, that by how much more a man precisely takes this way, the more Independent he will prove. And the pure simplicity of the life of God revealed in jesus Christ, will shine with so amiable a lustre in his inward mind, that all the most valuable Opinions that are controverted amongst Churches and Sects, will seem no more comely than a Fool's coat compared with the uniform Splendour of the Sun. But if thou meanest by either Puritan or Independent, one in the second Dispensation, I should dissemble in the presence of Heaven, if I should not say I am above them; as I am above all Sects whatsoever as Sects. For I am a true and free Christian; and what I write and speak is for the Interest of Christ, and in the behalf of the life of the Lamb which is contemned. And his Interest is the Interest of the sons of men; for he hath no Interest but their good and welfare. But because they will not have him to rule, the Nations of the world (by a Divine Nemesis) are given up into the hands of Wolves, Foxes, and Lions: The earth is full of darkness and cruel habitations. Wherefore, Eugenius, thou dost very unskilfully, in endeavouring to tumble me off from the Independents, to cast me amongst the Puritans, as thou callest them. For it is not in thy power to cast me so low as any Sect whatsoever; God hath placed me in a Dispensation above them, and wilt thou throw me down? No, Eugenius, I shine upon them both as the Sun in the Firmament, who doth not wink on one side, or withdraw his Rays, but looks openly upon all, imparting warmth and light. Thou hast encountered with a Colosse indeed (though thou callest me so but in sport and scorn) far bigger than that straddling Statue at Rhodes, and that reacheth far higher. And yet no Statue neither, but one that will speak what nothing but Ignorance and Hypocrisy can deny. Wherefore with my feet wading amidst the Sects of the earth and with my head stooping down out of the Clouds, I will venture to try the world with this sober question. Tell me therefore, O all ye Nations, People, and Kindred's of the earth, what is the reason that the world is such a stage of misery to the Sons of Men? Is it not from hence, That that which should be their great Guidance, their Religion and highest Lights of their minds, is but Heat and squabbling about subtle uncertain points, and foolish affectation of high mysteries; while the uncontroverted sober truths of Virtue and Piety are neglected, and the simplicity of the life of God despised, as a most contemptible thing. And I had no sooner uttered these words in my mind, but me thought I heard an Answer from all the Quarters of the World, from East, West, North and South, like the noise of many waters, or the voice of Thunder, saying, Amen. hallelujah. This is true. Nor is this any vain Enthusiasm, Philalethes, but the triumph of the Divine Light in my Rational Spirit, striking out to my exterior faculties, my Imagination and Sense. For my head was so filled with the noise, that it felt to me as bound and straitened, as being not able to contain it, and coldness and trembling seized upon my flesh. But you will say, All this is but a trivial Truth that you are so zealous and triumphant in. But verily, Eugenius, is it not better to be zealous about those things that are plainly true, than those that are either uncertain or false? 'Tis true, what I have said to thy soaring mind may seem contemptible. But if thou once hadst the sight of that Principle from whence it came, thou wouldst be suddenly ashamed of that patched clothing of thy soul, stitched up of so many unfutable and heedless sigurations of thy unpurged fancy, and wouldst endeavour to put on that simple uniform light. And now, Eugenius, that I find myself in an advantageous temper to converse with thee, come a little nearer me, or rather I will come a little nearer to thee. Hitherto I have played the part of a personated Enemy with thee, give me leave now to do the office of an open Friend. I perceive there is in you, as you have made it manifest to all the world, an eager desire after Knowledge, and as insatiable thirst after Fame: both which are to be reputed far above that dull and earthy proneness of the mind of some men, whose thoughts are bend upon little else but the Bed and the Board. But I tell thee, that this desire of thine being kindled so high in thy melancholy complexion, there arise these three inconveniences from this inordinate heat. First, Thy spirits are so agitated, that thou canst not soberly and cautiously consider the Objects of thy mind, to see what is truly consequent, what not; and so thy reason goes much to wrack. Secondly, Thy melancholy being so highly heated, it makes thee think confidently thou hast a Phantasm or Idea of a thing belonging to this or that word, when thou hast not; which is a kind of inward Frenzy, and answers to the seeing of outward apparitions when there is nothing before the sight. Thus art thou defeated in thy design of knowledge in divine and natural things by this distemper. But thirdly, The same untamed Heat causeth Boldness, Confidence and Pride. And hence ariseth thy Imprudence. For I tell thee, Eugenius, there is no such imprudent thing in the world as Pride. Wotest thou not what the humour of all men is; how they think themselves no inconsiderable things in the world? You know the story in Herodotus, how when the Greeks had overcome the Persians and after it was debated amongst them, to whom the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 belonged, who should have the honour of being reputed most valiant in that service, every one did acknowledge that next to himself Themistocles did best. Wherefore it is plain that he that will not let any man go before him, provokes all men. Here therefore was thy imprudence, Eugenius, that thou wouldst take the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to thyself without so much as any debate or ask leave, when every Galenist, Aristotelean, Cartesian, and Theosophist, thinks it belongs to him as much as to thee. Thus hast thou provoked all men against thee, and made shipwreck of thy fame, as well as fallen short of Learning. But you'll say, why? what would you have me to have done as some others do, who (though they be proud, yet) put on a handsome dress of Modesty and squeamish Humility? That I tell thee had been indeed something more like Prudence, which thy raised heat could not stoop to, but I must confess it had been but a kind of Moral Sneaking. For as the bending down of the upper parts of the Body, so that the tallness of the stature thereof is concealed, is the Sneaking of the Body: so to make a man's self more humble than he is, or less highminded, is the Sneaking of the Soul. But the first point of wisdom is to be really humble indeed. For an Humble mind is as still as the night, and as clear as the noonday. So that it is able without any impatiency or prejudice to discern all things, and rightly to judge of all things. This Christian temper is so sober, and wise, that no Imposture can surprise it, nor ever will it hurt itself by rashness and imprudency. This is the heir of God, the treasury of all humane, divine, and natural knowledge, and the delight and praise of men where ever it appears. But the inseparable companions of haughtiness, are Ignorance, Shame, and Enmity. But believe it, Eugenius, as this divine Humility is of more worth, so is it of more labour then to find the Philosopher's stone, or the famous Medicine you talk of; I am certain of more consequence by ten thousand times. And me thinks now at length through all those waves and rufflings of thy disordered mind, I see something at the bottom in thee, O Eugenius, that begins to assent to what I say, that begins to shine and smile, and look upon me as a very pleasant Apostle, sent (not without providence) to toy and sport thee into a more sober temper, and advertise thee of the highest good that the Soul of man is capable of; and thou wilt I am confident very suddenly say, and that from thy heart, that better are the wounds of a friend, than the kisses of an enemy. Or if thou canst not yet fancy him a friend that hath worn the vizard of a foe so long, yet I do not mistrust but that thou wilt be so wise, as, according to Xenophons' Principle, not only not to be hurt, but also to be profited by thine enemy. An enemy indeed is not a thing to be embosomed and embraced, as the satire would have done the fire when he first saw it, and therefore was forewarned by Prometheus to abstain, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. But in the, mean time, that which it would pain or consume, may by observing the right laws of using it, receive kindly warmth and vigour from it, and work excellent things in virtue of its heat or light. Did not Telephus heal his wound by his enemy's spear? And had not jason his imposthume cured by that weapon that was meant for his deadly dispatch? You know also the story of Hiero, Eugenius, who when his enemy had upbraided him with his stinking breath, chid his wife when he came home, because she never had it discovered to him all● that time of their living together: But she being very honest and simple, told her husband that she thought all men's breaths smelled so. You see then how much more easy it is, to hear what is true concerning us, of our professed Adversaries, then of our bosom Friends. But methinks I hear thee answer that neither a bosom Friend nor an embittered Enemy can be competent judges of a man's vices or virtues: for the one would be too favourable, and the other too severe. What then? wouldst thou have some Third thing, a mean betwixt both, (according to that known Aphorism 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) whom thou mightest hope would prove an impartial judge? why, that's I, Phil. whom, I dare say thou art confident to be no friend to thee; and I dare swear I am no enemy. And therefore why should I despair, but that my fitness and skill may prove as successful in allaying of Eugenius his tumour, as that unskilful hand was lucky in lancing jasons' imposthume. And being once cured, do not then repine, that there was a time wherein thou wast unsound, no more than Alexander the great, that he was once so little as to be lodged within the narrow compass of his mother's womb; or Milo who at length could lift an ox, that he was once so weak that he could not stir a lamb. And what think'st thou Phil. of Plato, Empedocles, Democritus, Socrates, and other profound sages of the World, can you imagine that when they had arrived to that pitch of knowledge, that it was any shame or regret to them, that there was once a time when they knew not one letter of the Alphabet. Why then should my Eugenius be troubled, that he was once Childish, Ignorant, Proud and Passionate, when he is well cured of those distempers. We are what we are, and what is passed is not, and therefore is not to afflict us. But he that is more anxious concerning Fame then Virtue, and seeks only to seem a gallant and invincible thing to the whole world, when in the mean time his mind is very weak and vulnerable. I know my Eugenius is so wise, that such a man as this, will seem as irrational to him, as if one having by ill chance cut his shin, he should be less solicitous about healing of his leg then mending of his stocking. FINIS. The Contents of Mastix his Letter. 1. THe reason why he permitted his Observations and Reply to be reprinted. 2. Of David George and Jacob Behmen. 3. That there are two main ways of assenting to truth viz. The Evidence of Reason, or the Vigour of Fancy, and to which of these two Jacob Behmens complexion carried him. 4. The great use of that Consideration, and a vindication of Jacob Behmen from the calumny of his Adversaries. 5. Mastix suspects the objections here propounded to be his friends own, though he dissemble it, but the willinglier answers to them for his sake. 6. A general Apology for the mirth of his Observations. 7. An Apology for the whole second Section of his Reply. 8. The Faith of the Platonists and of Christians in reference to a blessed immortality in what they agree and in what they differ, and the pre-eminence of the one above the other. 9 That God is not united after the same manner with every Christian, that he is with Christ himself, and yet that God is communicated to every true Christian. 10. Deification what it is, and how warrantable a term, and yet discountenanced by Mastix, and the reason why. 11. That the Wise and Virtuous are truly Kings and Priests according to the suffrage both of Christians and Heathen Philosophers, and the reason why Mastix put on so gorgeous a Scheme of grandiloquence towards his Antagonist. 12. That it is not Enthusiasm but thankfulness to profess what knowledge we have, to have received it from God. 13. The vast difference betwixt Articles of Faith and Opinions, and the great price Mastix sets on the one, though he slights the other. 14. That he is a professed friend to all Sects whatsoever, provided that they revolt not from the Essentials of Christianity. 15. Bertius his partiality against the Calvinists taxed, and that a conscientious Christian that keeps to the plain truths of the Gospel, sits free and secure from the Distraction of Sects. 16. Mastix his Opinion concerning the Quakers. 17. What may be the most dangerous design of the devil in that Sect. 18. How to defeat this design of his; with an intimation of the reason why God may permit this error to spread. 19 Mastix his Dream of the beginning of the late commotions in England. 20. The interpretation of his Dream. 21, The occasion of his Dream, and the comparing thereof with the Figuration of his fancy by day into a breathing Colosse. 22. That that fit was not properly Enthusiasm, but ordinary (though very vehement) Devotion; and that there was nothing divine therein, but that truth which was there uttered, viz. That the Christian life is far to be preferred before conformity of Opinions. 23. What happened to Mastix nearest to the nature of Vision or Enthusiasm of any thing that ever befell him, and his Descant thereupon. 24. That the guidance of Dreams is more proper for Action then Speculation, and more fit to determine us (when we are plainly at a loss) what to do, than what to conceive in points of Philosophy or Religion. 25. Mastix apologizeth for taking the liberty of telling his own Dreams, excusing himself from the example of Cardan. 26. The reason why he sets himself so zealously and professedly against Enthusiasm. 27. The exceeding great advantage the stayed and sad mind has above the light and merry. 28. Why Melancholy men may become more holy and illuminate then others, and the great danger of miscarriage in that Complexion. Mastix his letter to a private Friend concerning his Reply. SIR, I Received yours ●ome three weeks or a month after the date thereof. I suppose the tedious length of the way and many digressions, and by-visits of the Bearer, made it to come so late; but it is not the more unwelcome or less seasonable. Your good opinion of what I have wrote against Atheism is no small satisfaction to me for my pains therein. For that men of so exquisite judgement as yourself allow of a Performance, it is to me a plain argument, that if others do not concurre● that the fault is more to be suspected in him that reads, then in him that writes the Discourse. 1. If my Observations and Reply be shortly reprinted, as you hear, it is through the importunity of our friend Parresiastes, who would not let me be quiet till I had given him leave to do it. The strongest Engine that he had to move me to it, was the consideration, that if I would not let them be reprinted while I might amend such things as I thought fit, that they might hereafter be republished whether I would or no, with what ever disadvantages hang upon them. That you wish they were as effectual an Antidote against Enthusiasm, as That other is against Atheism, it does imply that you think they are not; and I thank you for your freedom in declaring your opinion; to which I willingly subscribe. But Parresiastes will prefix a Treatise concerning the Nature, Causes, Kinds, and Cure of Enthusiasm, that in my judgement will strike home to the purpose● so that mingling all together they may happily prove as sovereign a Medicine against Enthusiasm as you conceive that other to be against Atheisms 2. Methinks he is something bold with some Authors that considerable men set no small price upon. But let him look to that; You know the man and the manner of his disposition, how free and exert he is, and what a sincere zeal he has to the Truth. What he writes concerning David George and that other so near akin to him, I must confess I dare not blame his boldness therein, they seeming to me (so far as I can possibly fathom them) at the best but Enthusiastic Sadduces. But as for jacob Behmen I do not see but that he holds firm the Fundamentals of the Christian Religion, and that his mind was devoutly united to the head of the Church, the crucified jesus, to whom he breathed out this short ejaculation with much Fervency of spirit upon his deathbed, Thou crucified Lord jesus, have mercy on me, and take me into thy kingdom. But though I be very well assured of the sanctity of the Man, and look upon him as one that is as much beyond the other two, as his boastings of his own person are less than theirs who either equalised themselves with, or set themselves above our Saviour, who is God blessed for ever; yet it is to me no argument at all, that whatsoever he writes is from an infallible spirit; But the case seems to me to stand thus. 3. There being two main ways whereby our mind is won off to assent to things. viz. The guidance of Reason, or The Strength and vigour of Fancy; and according to the complexion or constitution of the body we being led by this Faculty rather than by that, suppose, by the strength or fullness of Fancy rather than the closeness of reason (neither of which Faculties are so sure guides that we never miscarry under their conduct; in so much that all men, even the very best of them that light upon truth, are to be deemed rather fortunate then wise) jacob Behmen, I conceive, is to be reckoned in the number of those whose Imaginative faculty has the pre-eminence above the Rational; and though he was an holy and good man, his natural complexion notwithstanding was not destroyed, but retained its property still; and therefore his imagination being very busy about divine things, he could not without a miracle fail of becoming an Enthusiast, and of receiving divine truths upon the account of the strength and vigour of his Fancy: Which being so well qualified with holiness and sanctity, proved not unsuccesful in sundry apprehensions, but in others it fared with him after the manner of men, the sagacity of his imagination failing him, as well as the anxiety of reason does others of like integrity with himself. 4. Which things I think very worthy of noting, that no man's writings may be a snare to any one's mind, that none may be puzzled in making that true which of itself is certainly false; nor yet contemn the hearty and powerful exhortations of a zealous soul to the indispensable duties of a Christian by any supposed deviations from the truth in speculations that are not so material nor indispensable. Nay though something should fall from him in an Enthusiastic Hurricane that seems neither suitable to what he writes elsewhere, nor to some grand Theory that all men in their wits hitherto have allowed for truth, yet it were to be imputed rather to that pardonable disease that his natural complexion is obnoxious to, then to any diabolical design in the Writer; which rash and unchristian reproach is, as far from the truth, if not further, as I conceive, than the credulity of those that think him in every thing infallibly inspired. 5. I cannot but interpret it as an argument of the sincerity of your affection and friendship that you discover some measure of sollicitudes, what success this second edition of the forenamed Pamphlets may have, and must give you many thanks for your so seasonable and particular intimations of what you have observed most liable to the hasty censure, as you say, of either the heedless or malevolent Reader; but I suspect it is but an handsome Scheme of suggesting to me your own dissatisfaction in several of those passages which you propound. And therefore I am the more willing for sureness to answer to all, to ease you of that anxiety your mind may be any way burdened with on my behalf, when you shall understand that all is right at the bottom, let things appear at first sight as they will. 6. First then as for my Observations, let the mirth and humours therein be as wild and exorbitant as they may, provided they be no other than may well be found in some angry Aristotelean that has taken pepper in the nose, upon the sleights and abuses put upon his Master Aristotle, the Dramatist has offended nothing in all this, having throughout kept the Decorum of such a person as he intended to represent. And must confess that on set purpose that the Writer might be the more certainly concealed, I gave myself leave to let slip sometimes such passages as were least likely to fall from my pen. But understanding what an enraged Antagonist I had got, that he might not add injustice to wrathfulness, and discharge his choler at random where ever his suspicion and jealousy should carry him, I thought it better to be so courteous as to satisfy the inquisitive, and so just as to prevent that injury that might fall upon the falsely suspected, then to shelter myself any longer by concealing the author of that merry Exploit. But as concerning my Reply, I cannot there give so succinct an account, the impatiency and fury of my Adversary having torn off our masks, and constrained us to act in our known persons, but must descend particularly to those several Exceptions that you observe to have been made against sundry passages of that writing, and I shall take them in that order of Pages as they lie. 7. What you intimate concerning the whole second Section (according as Parresiastes has divided the Book) as if it smelled too much of pride and magnifying myself, You are ●irst to consider what a shower of dirt my Antagonist had poured upon me in his foul Answer, endeavouring to tread me down into a dunghill if he could; and therefore it is more pardonable if I rise up with more courage and shake off all suspicion of being so pitiful a creature as he would make me; and truly I had a conceit that showing the inward frame of my mind so freely to him, it might have proved as successful as the flying open of Prince Arthur's shield in his combat with the Giant Orgoglio; but it seems he had no eyes to behold that kind of lustre. But in the second place that which is more considerable, I magnify myself in nothing, but in the common accomplishments of every sincere Christian, and that I set them off in so high and lofty a strain, is but a zealous profession that the ordinary Christian graces are far to be preferred before all the miracles of Magic that my Antagonist hankers after, all the knowledge of Nature, and what ever else the world will afford; but I have apologised to this purpose already in my Preface to my Antidote. 8. Pag. 175. line 27. Sing of Platonic Faith. What you write as if some men conceited from this passage that I affected a Faith that was not Christian, I wonder much at their mistake. These verses are transcribed out of my Poems of the Immortality of the Soul, and contain a very considerable argument thereof, which is the Goodness or Benignity of God, on which the Platonists or better sort of the Heathen relied, or reposed themselves upon, in their expectation of happiness from him; that is, They had their Recumbency upon that principle in God which moved him in the fullness of time to send jesus Christ into the world, according as it is written, God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, etc. which is a greater and more particular manifestation of the love of God, than the poor Heathen ever did enjoy. But yet so far forth as they did rely on the goodness of God, they did not differ in their faith from us Christians, who also rely upon the same, though upon more explicit terms, and from a more certain and particular knowledge thereof revealed in Christ jesus, that noble pledge of the love of God towards us. Besides, the Resurrection and Ascension of Christ is a more palpable argument of a blessed Immortality then any the Philosophers could ever produce. 9 Pag. 177. l. 23. My glory, my joy, my communicated God. That some have been scandalised with this Passage I conceive is, because they have fancied that I understood thereby a more mysterious union with God then is compatible to any saving Christ himself. But for my own part I am so far from thinking that the union of a Christian with God is hypostatical, that I hold it utterly inconsistent with Christian Religion to think so. For if our union with God be the same that Christ's union is, we are as much God as he, and as lawful objects of adoration: which in my apprehension destroys the whole frame of Christianity. But to those that have no mind to cavil, this place have been found void of all offence, it signifying no more than what is expressly in the Scripture if you compare S. Peter's 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 with that of S. John, God is love, and he that abideth in love, abideth in God and God in him. But it is a riddle to me that God who is Love, should communicate himself so fully as to live and abide in a man, and yet that he should not be for all that communicated to him, which they do plainly imply that cavil at this Passage. 10. Pag. 180. l. 20. This is to be Godded with God and Christed with Christ. Those that reprehend this passage, they seem to me to be very reprehensible themselves, as having fallen into two errors: The one is, that they think it so enormous and extravagant an expression of men being called Gods, when as very sober and holy writers have made use of the phrase, being warranted thereunto as they conceive from Scripture itself which expressly bestows upon us the title of sons of God, John 1. Filios Dei fieri, h●e. Deos, say they, Nam quis nisi Deus potest esse filius Dei, Isa. Cafaub. and the same Author out of the Fathers. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. S. Augustine speaks very roundly to the same purpose, Templum Dei aedificaxi ex iis quos facit non factus Deus, and Athanasius ad Adelphium, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Christ became man, that he might make us Gods. But what this Deification is, he doth distinctly and judiciously set down thus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, To be made God, says he, is to be united with the Deity by the partaking of the Spirit of God. And for my own part I understand nothing else by Deification which is so often repeated in that excellent Manual Theologia Germanica, in which, though there be much of Melancholy, yet I think there is more true and savoury Divinity then in thousands of other writings that make a greater noise in the world. The other error my Reprehenders are reprehensible in is, in that they look upon me here as countenancing such phrases as these, when it is plain I check the users of them, for their affectation of such high language, especially they having abused it, not only to an unmannerly usurpation of an equal estate or parity with Christ, but to a wild presumption that there is no other God but such as themselves are. Which abominable opinion of theirs presenting itself then so fully to my mind, carried me forth in that zeal and vehemency you see, and therefore may be a sufficient excuse for so large an excursion, I keeping myself still so well within compass, as not to let go my main design, which was against Phantastrie and Enthusiasm, And do here plainly show that it may well lead a man at length to down right Ranting and Atheism. 11. Pag. 183. l. 11. Lord of the four Elements, and Emperor of the World. It is in my apprehension but an extravagant censure of those that say these expressions are so extravagant. If these words were to be literally understood, I confess it were the voice rather of a Mad man, then of one in his right senses: but they being to be understood morally, they are not only sober in themselves but contain in them a consideration very proper and effectual for the making others sober also, I mean such as by their natural complexion, being hurried on too fast after high things, are liable to grow mad with excessive desire of being in some great place of honour and rule amongst men, or else of being admired for some strange Magical power over Nature and external Elements; we reminding them hereby, that there is a more noble Empire and more useful Magic to be fought after, than what so pleases their mistaken fancies; in endeavouring after which they shall neither forfeit their Bodies to the sovereign Power they ought to obey, nor yet their Souls to the Devil, nor squander away the use of their wits and reason upon mere lying deceits and vanities. Besides, this inward command over a man's self, which the wisest have always accounted the highest piece of wisdom and power, has ever been by all good men compared with and preferred before sceptres and kingdoms; so that I do but speak in the common Dialect of all those that have professed themselves to have had that right esteem of Wisdom and Virtue which it deserves. The Philosophers are very loud in their expressions concerning this matter, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Laert. Zen. And Horace following their steps, or rather outgoing them, writes thus; Ad summam sapiens uno minor est jove, Dives, Liber, honoratus, pulcher, rex denique regum. Nay they are not only content to set out the dignity of their Wise man as they call him by the title of a King, but will not allow any to be truly so called besides him. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. And Dem●philus adds that he is the only priest also 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: Christianity joins both Titles together, the Scripture teaching us that all true Christians are both Kings and Priests: So sober and warrantable are those Metaphors taken from political dignities. But is it not a piece of Pride to speak of a man's self in such high terms? I answer, is it not a piece of baseness for a man to be ashamed to profess himself a Christian, and his high esteem he has of that calling, especially he being so fairly invited thereunto, partly to wipe off the foul calumnies of his Adversary who would make the world believe, I wrote against him out of envy, the poorest and most sneaking of all passions, and utterly contrary to all magnanimity and true gallantry of Spirit; and partly to recommend to all generous Souls the love of Christianity and Virtue. under the notion of a very Royal and magnificent State and condition (which I do in most parts of this present Section) and so to win over, if it were possible, my Antagonist himself, from the vain affectation of Magic to a more sacred and more truly glorious power over his own Nature. Pag. 183. l. 24. I still the raging of the Sea, etc. Impera ventis & tempestatibus, dic mari, quiesce; & Aquiloni, ne flaveris, etc. is the very allegory that that devout Soul Thomas à Kempis uses in his devotions lib. 3. cap. 23. See also my Moral Cabbal● and the Defence thereof, and it will warrant to a syllable every thing that I have wrote in this Section of this kind. 12. Pag. 115. l. 7. And impregnation of my understanding from the most High, etc. Here you say they demand of me if I take myself to be inspired. Yes, in such sort as other well meaning Christians are, that take a special care of venting any thing but what they can, or at least think they can, give a sufficient reason for. I suppose that every one that is wise, it is the gift of God to him: And Elihu is right in this, though much out in his censure of job, I said, days should speak, and multitude of years should teach wisdom. But there is a spirit in a man; and the inspiration of the Almighty gives them understanding. The Apostle also bids, that if any one lack wisdom, that he ask it of God, wherefore if any one find any measure of wisdom in himself, or at least think he does, he is to give him the glory of it: but whether Wisdom thus obtained of God be Inspiration, or no, I leave to those to dispute that love to bring all things into a form of controversy. 13. Pag. 281. l. 12. The most valuable Opinions that are controverted amongst Churches and Sects, etc. That from this place and some others of my Reply, some would gather that I make nothing of the Articles of the Christian faith, it is a sign to me that they either want Reason or Charity. For in my own thoughts I make a vast difference betwixt the Articles of the Christian faith and Opinions, and cannot forbear to profess that my judgement is, That if Sects differ in these, some of them will not fail to prove maimed or defective Christians; of which sort I conceive are such Articles as these; namely, The existence of a God Omnipotent, Omniscient, and infinitely Good, together with the Trinity of the Godhead, The Divinity of Christ, That he is a sacrifice for sin. That he came into the world to root out the works of the Devil, and every plant that is not of his Fathers planting, that is, all manner of Idolatry and Wickedness of either Flesh or Spirit. That he rose corporeally out of the grave. That he ascended up into heaven visibly in the sight of his Disciples. And that he will in due time return visibly from thence to take vengeance on the wicked, and recompense the good when he shall change their vile bodies into the similitude of his glorious body, crowning them with everlasting life and joy. These and such like Truths as these so plainly comprehended in the sacred Text, it never came into my mind to debase them so much as to cast them into the rank of Opinions, though of the best sort that can be imagined: For these are not the objects of Opinion to any real Christian but of Faith, by which I understand a steady and unshaken belief that they are true. And whosoever contradicts any of these, I make bold to pronounce (let him talk as sweetly and graciously as he will) that it is nothing but either puzzled Nature, obfuscating Melancholy, or some Diabolical mystery working in him, that emboldens him to contradict so holy a truth. 14. Pag. 281. l. 31. To cast me amongst the Puritans as thou callest them. It is also groundlessly spoken of those that vote me for a peculiar enemy to the Puritans, from this passage and some others of like nature, when as if they read but on a little further in this place, they may see I openly profess myself a Friend to all Sects whatsoever in the Christian world. For what warrant have I to be a foe to them that God himself is a friend to; as I make no question but he is to any, in any Sect that hold the Fundamentals of Christianity with a conscionable endeavour of living accordingly, and does mercifully wink at their Childishness in the rest. But if in stead of Children they prove Bears and Lions, and devour their Neighbours out of a zeal to their own follies, or it may be out of a worse principle, Pride, Covetousness and Revenge; I must confess I think they are not then Christians at all, but Wolves in sheep's clothing. 15. And verily every Sect, as a Sect, is of this nature and condition, and they want nothing but opportunity to show their fangs, and therefore I think Bertius has done very unjustly in laying all the load upon the Calvinists, as if that were peculiar to them that is the disease of all Opinionists whatsoever. But for my part my ambition is to be found rather amongst them that are sound then those that are diseased, containing myself within the sober limits of the Word of God for the Articles of my Faith, and shall be so civil to others, as to give them leave to believe what they will, so they do not believe against what is plainly and expressly contained in Scripture. For for a man to be hot for some Point that with a great deal of study and care he has hammered out of the Text, and imperiously to obtrude it upon others, seems to me as absurd, as if some conceited Artisan should force another to buy some elaborate toy, that he has spent a great deal of time and pains upon, at his own rate, when the chapman professes he has no need of any such impertinent curiosities. And I doubt not but that this is the condition of every man that has an hearty and favoury sense and firm belief of the grand Truths of Christianity, such as are, That there is an allseeing eye of Providence that takes notice of all our actions to reward or punish them. That if we sin and unfeignedly repent thereof, that we have a Mediator Jesus Christ the righteous, who is a propitiation for our sins. That we may through him in time have a very considerable victory or conquest over them, we keeping as close to his precepts and example as we can, and earnestly imploring the aid of his Spirit for a further proficiency daily in that life that has begun to appear in us, and to ●each us; that denying all ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world, looking for that blessed hope and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour jesus Christ, who gave himself for us that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works; I say, a constant endeavour after such a pitch of holiness as this, and a firm belief of His return to judgement whom we most affectionately love, adore, and to the utmost of our power imitate in our conversations, is so warm and filling a cordial to the sincere Soul, that he will either loath, or at least not much long for what ever humane invention can afford him as an overplus. For if a man stick to such plain things as these, and others of the same nature that are to be found and easily understood in Scripture, he has built his house on the Rock of ages, and all the Sectarian Gibberish in the world cannot distract him, nor dissettle or bring him into any diffidence but that he is safe and well. 16. Pag. 282. l. 32. Coldness and trembling seized upon my flesh. What you say some have collected from this place, is the most fair and probable calumniation of any. For for my own part I have so little esteem of any Sect whatsoever, that comparing their Title with that of a Christian, I conceive it little better than a reproach or calumny. But to tell you my opinion of that Sect which are called Quakers, though I must allow that there may be some amongst them good and sincere hearted men, and it may be nearer to the purity of Christianity for the life and power of it, than many others; yet I am well assured that the generality of them are prodigiously Melancholy, and some few perhaps possessed with the Devil. And I conceive that he doth work more cunningly and despitefully against the kingdom of Christ in that Sect then in any open Sect that has appeared in these latter times. For they intermingling so great severity and conspicuous signs of Mortification, the close keeping to the light within, and the not offending in the least manner the dictates of our consciences, but to walk evenly and sincerely before God and man, they intermingling, I say, these wholesome things with what is so abominable and dangerous, viz. the slighting of the history of Christ and making a mere Allegory of it, thereby voiding all that wisdom of God that is contained in the mystery of Christianity, as it refers to the very person of Christ; this, I say, cannot proceed from any thing so likely as from the craft and watchful malice of Lucifer, who undoubtedly envies Christ his Throne both in Heaven and in Earth, and therefore would bring one of these two mischiefs upon his Church, that is, either the slurring of the person of our Saviour, or else of that, without which he can take no complacency in his Church, and that is, true and real Sanctity or Holiness. 17. Wherefore this is the perverse Dilemma he thinks he has caught us in. That if this Leaven of the Quakers prevail, the person of Christ will be outed and the mystery thereupon depending canceled, and all that advantage to Life and Godliness therein comprehended taken away; which he will be as able to effect as to pull the Sun out of the Firmament. But though it succeeds not this way, yet he at least promises himself that these Instruments of his speaking so loudly for and acting (so far as many can discern) so earnestly and seriously according to the strictest rules of a Christian life, and calling upon every one so vehemently to do the like, to mortify the old man with all his lusts and concupiscences, and to put on the new man which is created in righteousness and true holiness, adding, that God will enable us to do all this if we will but cordially set ourselves to it, and that unless we do this, all the rest of our Religion profits us nothing (which things are most true and precious) he hopes, I say, that this their so lavish profession of these duties will make them be still mo●e coldly entertained by them that otherwise are zealous enough in that other part of Christianity, they being thus blemished and besmeared with the foul fingering of such execrable persons as they must needs seem to be, and indeed are, that set so little by him whom God of a truth hath exalted above men and Angels: and so like Children they will forsake their meat because some ugly body has touched it, as Huckster's and Victuallers in Turkey let go for nought what ever a slave, as he passes by, lays his hand on, no body after vouchsafing to eat thereof. Now in as many as this Stratagem takes effect, the end of Christianity is supplanted as Christianity itself was endeavoured to be supplanted before. For Christ gave himself, that he might redeem us from all iniquity and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works, as was above rehearsed out of the Apostle. 18. But the plot being discovered, the mischief may be certainly prevented viz. If besides all that honour we otherwise give Christ, we add a faithful and constant obedience to his will: which will of his is that we become perfect, as his Father which is in heaven is perfect: And we shall be the better spurred up to mend our pace towards these accomplishments, or be more forcibly driven thereunto, if we seriously set ourselves to inquire into the true causes, why God permits such a Mystery as this to work, that tends in very truth to the utter overthrow of that warrantable, though more external, frame of Christianity that the Scripture itself points out to us, and which should be as a rich Cabinet wherein that Jewel the Divine life is to be found, viz. whether it be not, that we hypocritically content ourselves with this empty Tabernacle though the Presence and power of God abide not therein (as it does not unless we find ourselves purified from all filthiness of flesh and spirit, or at least hold ourselves bound in duty with all earnestness possible to endeavour thereafter) whether, this I say, be not the cause that God threatens thus unto us the utter overthrow of that Religion under which, against the mind of our Lawgiver we would shelter ourselves with all our hypocrisies and abominations. As for those that from this Passage of this enigmatical Colosse, that my Imagination was transfigured into, conceive me to affect divine Visions as you say, and extraordinary Revelations, and so to be sick of that Disease that I would pretend to cure others of; I must confess I was transported so far in this place, that it is pardonable if they do suspect me of some such distemper, they not knowing of what frame of spirit I am. But as for myself, there is nothing at all in this that happened to me, that seemed to me extraordinary, and that only I look upon as divine in it which such men as these in all likelihood would the least of all esteem as such, which I think I shall easily make you understand, by comparing what has happened to me in my sleep with this that befell me awake. 19 At the beginning of the late commotions here in England I dreamed thus. Me thought I was at a friends house in the road betwixt London and Scotland, where having gone out into the outward court in a bright Moonshine night; a little before I returned in again, I looked first towards the North, where I saw in the heavens a Woman with a child on her lap, holding her arm over it, with that care and tenderness that Mothers and Nurses usually do over young Children. I afterward turned me toward the South, and looking up I beheld the Effigies of a very old Man with a long beard, lying on his side all along stretched parallel to the Horizon. This representation was, as I easily discerned, made of a very bright cloud, that had imbibed plentifully the light of the Moon. I looking steadily upon him, he began to move his right arm, but from the elbow only, and that very leisurely, raising it but a little height, and then let it fall to the same posture it was before. He moved it thus, so far as I can remember, some six or seven times, lifting this part of his arm every bout higher than other, and keeping the same distance of time in all; but the last stroke was struck by his whole arm from the very shoulder. When he had thus done, I turned my face, returning into the house; but before I had reached the door, he sent these words after me, with an hollow voice much like thunder afar off, There is indeed love amongst you, but only according to the flesh. 20. Not at all dismayed neither with the sight nor the voice I passed into the hall and told them what had happened, expounding the general meaning of my dream in my dream, advertising them that the Old man his manner of striking so gradually, was an Emblem of the proceedings of God when he chastises a nation, adding certain reasons out of Aristotle's Mechanics, which I had very lately read, why those strokes must needs be one heavier than another and the last (which represented the hand of God striking to a more signal overthrow if not final destruction) by far the most heavy of all. That this was the Method of God in plagueing a people, but that which provoked him to wrath or brought mischief upon them was the want of that life and spirit of Christianity which is the Divine love, whereby the eagerness of the love of the world with all the honours and pleasures thereof is abated and all Christian duties, we owe one to another, thereby the more easily performed. For whereas that carnal love will amount to no more than what is found in wild Beasts and base Vermin, that rake and roven and tear away their prey where ever they can get it, pulling it into their own dens and dark holes to provide for themselves and their young ones; that better Love which is the Spirit of God communicated to us, makes us more universally benign and kind, desiring and endeavouring the good of all, being as ill at ease at the calamity of our Neighbours, as if it had happened to ourselves; and rejoicing as much in their welfair as if it were our own; which assuredly is the indispensable condition of every true Christian; and therefore if we were such, Christendom could not be embroiled in such wars, disturbances and confusions as it has been these many ages. To this purpose I spoke in my sleep, which being no more than I thought oftentimes before, while I was awake, could seem to me to have nothing in it extraordinary. 21. That which may seem most strange to others is the Vision (as I may so call it) in this dream, which would have amused myself, had I not remembered that over night I had looked upon the Frontispiece of Ptolemy's Maps, where my fancy it seems having laid hold on his venerable beard, drew in thereby the whole scene of things that presented themselves to me in my sleep; And though some may think this dream to be more particularly applicable to what has happened of late years here in England, yet no man can demonstrate but that the congruity may be only casual. Now as occasionally from the Picture of Ptolemy my Fancy was carried into that dream by night, so was it also in the day time transfigured into this breathing and speaking Colosse, by Eugenius his mentioning of and comparing me with that enormous statue. For that the fancy will work of itself without any leave or direction from our superior faculties, is very plain, and that as well by day as by night. But the difference is, that a man awake has ordinarily the power, if he think good, to curb such Phantasms when they appear, and so I could have done this knowing right well it was but an occasional fancy, but such as would serve my turn to set off that Truth I had to declare unto the World, with more force and vigour; and therefore I let it go on. Nor is there in all this any thing either extraordinary or divine, the natural causes being so apparent to any man's capacity. 22. But that Truth which this breathing Colosse uttered to the world is not only divine, but one of the most concerning divine Truths that Christiandome can take notice of. For it arises out of the height of that life that is truly and indispensably Christian, and without which those happy times, which the Prophets have prophesied of and very good and precious men hope for, will never come upon the earth. And if that of the Deity that lies hid in men (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as the Philosopher speaks) raised itself up more then ordinarily at this bout, it producing nothing but a more quick and sensible gust of a truth, so sacred and evident to every one in whom the grace of God does abide, it cannot amount to that which men call Enthusiasm, but is to go only for a sober and warrantable, though a very vehement and affectionate fit of Love and Devotion, upon a fuller and clearer impress or manifestation of the excellency of that Life and Spirit which Christ came to communicate to the world. Of which by how much every one does partake, by so much the more he will slight the curiosities of Opinions, and in this light plainly see that the zeal after a conformity to them does more than any thing hinder the growth of Truth, and the advancement of the kingdom of Christ upon the earth. For while they have that whereby they may make a show of godliness before others, they are the more easily retained in the estate of Hypocrisy, they fancying that they serve God well enough in the promoting of their own conceits and inventions which they shamefully call the Truth of God. And besides, they hinder that good which sincere Christians may do in the world, who have so much the fear of God before their eyes, that they will not lie and dissemble for their own advantage, and therefore men of least conscience, careless what is true or false in Religion, but very crafty for themselves, and that will conform to any thing to mend their livelihood (and those that are the most Atheistical, will be able to do this the most tightly) get into power and place in the Church, and so the Wolf having put on the Shepherd's coat and taken his crook into his hand, very formally tends the flocks of Christ, and undoubtedly will give a wonderful fair account of his office at the last to that great Pastor and Bishop of our souls. This therefore that is so intelligible and rational so manifest and commonly known to all that have made that due progress in Christianity which they may, is not to be held as an extraordinary piece of Enthusiasm but a plain, though very zealous, declaration of an indispensable Truth. 23. That which came the nearest to Vision or Enthusiasm that ever happened to me, was about seven or eight and twenty years ago, when on a morning in my bed after break of day I heard, as I thought, a sound of a Trumpet very shrill and piercing, the longer it sounded, the more shrill and piercing it was, so that it pained my ear more and more. Methought I was then in an open place and in a free Horizon, saving that something a thick Mist hundred my prospect, but it grew thinner and thinner, and an innumerable company of Angels, blue and purple coloured about the shoulders, filled the heavens round about, but the sight was obscure by reason of the mistress But according as the Trumpet sounded louder and louder, the Mist grew thinner and the Vision clearer: But the shrillness of the Trumpet did pierce my ear with such a great pain, that I could not go on till the sight was perfectly cleared up. That which might persuade a man that there was something more than ordinary in it, is this, that whereas I was really asleep; yet I did plainly find in myself a power of waking myself, if I would; which seems almost impossible for one that is asleep. But out of the great desire that I had to see the vision cleared up. I forbore the waking of myself so long as I could, and endured the great torture the shrill sound of the Trumpet put me to; but at last it growing intolerable, I was fain to awake myself out of this dream. That a man should be in such intolerable torture may also seem to some to be beyond the causality of a dream: But to me it does not at all, who, upon the reading of Aristotle's Mechanics, where he speaks of the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and the power of removing timber thereby, fell into a dream of moving a great piece of timber by this ordinary engine, that caused a pain unspeakable. For every time I pressed down the Lever with my body, I was in as great a torment, as if my bowels had been torn out, so that groaning very piteously, my Chamberfellow called to me, thereby ridding me of my dream and pain at once. And in my apprehension that other circumstance of finding it in my own power to awake myself if I would, is not much unlike their case that are troubled with the Ephialtes, that perceive themselves in some sort asleep, and endeavour to waken themselves as well as they can. That which seems most unanswerable to myself is what it is impossible to propound to another, as being unexpressable, and that is that admirable Temper and frame of spirit I found myself in upon my waking, which, if it were in my power to relate, would seem to most men incredible; so that, for this passage sake, I should be prone to suspect something more than natural in what preceded it, did I not consider that sometimes there may be of itself such a Tenor and Disposition of body, that may either suggest or imitate what is most holy and divine: So uncertain a guide shall we have of whatsoever offers itself to us, and would inform us of any thing that cannot be made good out of Reason or Scripture: And I know nothing worth the taking notice of in all Divinity that is not determinable by these two. 24. But for those Dreams or night-Visions that do not ptetend to instruct us in any general Speculation or theoretical Mystery, but concern the management of our affairs, and particular negotiations, humane prudence being so lubricous a principle, when we are once really at a plunge; I think it not at all unwarrantable in a matter not unjust to follow such intimations as these, if they be offered, there being therein more of self-resignation and a fuller reliance upon that Providence which by such uncertain becks and nods (as they must needs seem to strangers) doth notwithstanding hereby sometimes most clearly and certainly communicate her mind and purpose to her own favourites, to their singular advantage and stupendious success. 25. Sir you will pardon my garrulity, as you may be enduced to term it from Theophrastus his example, who makes the telling of a man's dreams a character of that vice: But the best is it must be then to a stranger, which will I hope excuse me that have told mine to an intimate friend; and I might further justify myself from the practice of Cardan, that published several of his to all the world, which I think are of as little consequence as these of mine. 26. I have now answered to the chief Exceptions made against any particular passage of my Reply. What you say of some that they much marvel at the whole design in general, that I do so zealously and industriously oppose Enthusiasm, they not seeing that it is worth the while so to do; Certainly this censure must come from such men as are either tainted with this disease themselves, or else such strangers to it, that they have not so much as observed the mischievous workings thereof. But for my own part I being so throughly persuaded in my judgement of the truth and solidity of Christian religion and that it is maintainable by Reason against all cavils and sophistries whatsoever (let the Adversary oppose as fiercely and cunningly as he can) and observing likewise that the whole business of Enthusiasts is to decry Reason as an impure and carnal thing, I could not but look upon Enthusiasm as the only Sleight and most effectual Engine (seem it to others as despicable as it will) to unhinge Christiandome, dethrone Christ and annul that great and precious Mystery of Christianity, in which the Wisdom and Goodness of God does more clearly shine forth, then in any Dispensation of his Providence that he ever set a foot as yet in the world. And what is to come, must be but the accomplishment of this Period. Wherefore it seemed to me very unjust and ignoble, not to endeavour to the utmost, by any means possible and lawful, to hinder the progress of so dangerous an evil, and to provide so well for the honour of that Religion I was born under and do profess; that it should not be basfled or dashed out of countenance by that which is neither Religion, solid Reason, nor any thing else laudable, but merely a bold and wild Distemper of a Melancholy spirit. 27. To what some particularly except against the Merriment of my Reply I have said enough elsewhere, and therefore will only add this, That if that false Gravity, which is nothing else but a sour kind of pride, take the chair of censure, Mirth appealing thence to any indifferent Judge, will need no Pleader; but if she stand in competition with that sedatenesse and benign sadness of spirit wherein dwells true Gravity indeed, she will then deserve none. For assuredly this temper is beyond all comparison better than that merry Complexion. For whereas Mirth and Levity do often betray the Soul, so that she is surprised by what is foolish and vain, this Staidness and Gravity does not only guard her from what is evil, but restrains her from what is trivial, and makes her spend her pains upon no enterprise but what is worthy so noble a nature as her own; which is no Pride, but true Magnanimity and Generosity of Spirit. Besides, such as are of a light Genius that is always so pleasant and well contented, even to a redoundancy of toyishnesse and sport; it is a sign that their desires are shallow, in that they are so easily and continuedly satisfied, and therefore in a present incapacity of valuing the representations of more weighty objects. Whence it is that the profoundest & most concerning Mysteries of Philosophy and Religion are never infused into such slight & slew vessels. But the grave and sad mind that seldom ruminates on small matters, whose carriage being calm and quiet to the world, yet is full of workings within and strong breathe after the noblest Acquisitions, does not fail in the conclusion to enjoy her contentment secretly and apart from others, being fully compensated for her patience with all that wisdom and holiness that the Spirit of God bestows on them that have long waited for him. 28. And in this I conceive, Melancholy men have their special advantage, that Complexion making their desires vast and vehement, and their resentments very deep and vivid, and therefore very fit for the highest communications, their desires, joy and thankfulness bearing a more answerable proportion to the weighty matters they receive. Hence it is they are more frequently blest with a greater share of illumination and extraordinary sanctification than others, if there be no Let by reason of some flaw in Nature, or some default in themselves. For then instead of proving better than others, they may prove far worse, that Complexion exposing them to errors and mistakes proportionable to the greatness of their spirits and vastness of their desires, and so makes them often degenerate from the state of men that seemed to the World extraordinarily holy and illuminate, into mere Mock-prophets and ridiculous Enthusiasts; afterwards Ranters, Atheists, and what not. Sir, I have now answered to all the intimations in your Letter, saving what is generally intimated, or rather fully expressed in them all, which is your faithfulness and unfeigned friendship, which cannot be answered by words, but by an earnest endeavour of really approving as well as professing myself Your affectionate friend to serve you, M. Errata Insigniora sic corrige. Pag. 15. l. 4. for live sense read lively sense. p. 25. l. 33. como●ion r. commotion. p. 29. l. 14. his spirit r. their spirit. p. 100 l. 2. And this r. And his. p. 107. l. 6. slay r. flea. p. 176. l. ult. then all-spreaden r. then an all-spreaden. p. 269. l. 24. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 r. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. p. 273. l. 17. immortal r. immoral. p. 276. l. 28. Religion's r. Religious. p. 280. l. 21. Divine r. the Divine. p. 280. l. ult. reacheth r. hath reached to. p. 282. l. 16. Lights r. Light. p. 286. l. 13. it discovered read discovered it. p. 296. l. 29. read And I. p. 299. l. 32. r. ex Diis p. 302. l. 31. r. pag. 185. In the Epistle pag. 1. l. 24. r. How strangely. p. 2. l. 4. r. into this.