NATURAL HISTORY OF THE PASSIONS.  Mihi crede, qui nihil agere videntur, Majora agunt; humana divinaque simul tractant. Seneca Epist. 8. 
In the SAVOY, Printed by T. N. for james Magnes in russel-street, near the Piazza in Convent-Garden, 1674.   

EPISTLE PREFATORY, To a Person of Honour, Friend to the Author.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, exercetur ad virtutem in solitudine anima; was the the saying of a Bragman or Indian Philosopher to Alexander the the Great: and how memorable it is, you may perhaps collect from this diversion. For, the imperfect Discourse I herewith send to you, my dear Friend, concerning the PASSIONS, is the product of my late ten week's solitude in the Country. Where being remote from my Library, and wanting conversation with Learned Men; I knew not how more innocently to shorten the winter evenings, than by spending them in revising some Philosophical papers of my own, wherein among other things, I had formerly, out of the best Authors, made certain Collections concerning the divine art of acquiring constant Tranquillity of Mind, by Wisdom or the right use of Reason. And of this serious Diversion I then made choice, both because I well understood the best part of Human Science to be that which teacheth us how to moderate our Affections to the deceitful and transitory things of this life, and so to regulate our Actions, as to reap from them, whatever their Events may be, the happy fruit of internal Acquiescence and Satisfaction: and because my accumulated Misfortunes had at that time reduced me to a necessity of consulting that part of Philosophy, about the most effectual Remedies against Discontent.  
In this state and resolution then, first I remembered, that Nature hath made Man subject to no other real Evil, but only pain of the Body; all Grief or pain of the Mind, though many times more sharp and intolerable, being created by our own false Opinion, that we stand in want of things that are in truth without the circle of ourselves, and therefore not absolutely necessary to our well-being.  
Then I considered, that most commonly false Opinions are occasioned, and so exorbitant Desires suggested to us by our Passions; upon which all the Good and Evil incident to us in this life, seems to depend: as joy and Grief are the two points in which all Human actions end. For, though it be undoubtedly true, that the Reasonable Soul hath her intellectual Delights and Disquiets apart, such as are proper to her simple and spiritual nature: yet is it no less true, that those other Delights and Disquiets that are common to her with the Body, depend entirely upon the Affections. Which when regular, that is, moderated and directed by reason, are indeed of good use to the Soul, in that they serve to incite her to desire such objects which she well knows to be pleasant and beneficial to her, and to persist in that desire: but when irregular, by representing as realy good, things that are so only in appearance, provoke her to erroneous Desires, and in pursuit of them, to Actions also repugnant to the dictates of right Reason, and consequently to peace and tranquillity of Mind.  
From these Cogitations it was not difficult for me to infer, that the whole art of attaining unto that internal serenity after which I was seeking, consisteth principally in Directing our Desires aright, that is, to things which we clearly and distinctly know to be realy Good: and that the only way so to direct our Desires, is to employ our Understanding or Faculty of Discerning, which God hath to that end given us, strictly and attentively to examine and consider the goodness of things recommended to us by our Passions, before we determine our Will to affect and pursue them. For, most certain it is, that as our faculty of Discerning, that is our Intellect, cannot naturaly tend to falsity: so neither can our faculty of Assenting, that is our Will, be deceived, when it is determined only upon objects which we clearly and distinctly understand; and where our Will is not misplaced, there can be no just cause of Perturbation of mind.  
Being soon convinced of this no less evident than important verity, in the next place I considered, that if our inordinate Affections be the bitter fountain from whence the greatest part of, if not all our practical Errors, and by consequence most of the Evils we suffer, flow; and if as the diseases of the Body, so likewise those of the Mind may be more easily cured, when their nature and causes are understood: then would it be requisite for me first to inquire as far as I should be able, into the nature, causes, motions, etc. of the Passions, before I proceeded further in my research after the most powerful Remedies against their Excesses.  
To this inquiry therefore I diligently applied myself, both by reading and meditation; by Reading, that I might recall into my memory what I had long before transcribed out of the books of such Authors who had written judiciously and laudably of the Passions: by Meditation, that I might examine the weight of what I read, by comparing it with what I daily observed within the theatre of my own breast; every Man living being naturally so sensible of the various Commotions happening in various Passions, especially more violent ones, that some have held, the knowledge of their nature and causes may be without much of difficulty derived from thence alone, without any help from foreign observations. And while I proceeded in this course, I digested my Collections and private Sentiments into such an order or Method which seemed to me most convenient, aswell to show their genuine succession, and mutual dependence, as to make the Antecedents support the Consequents, and both to illustrate each other reciprocaly. I put them also into a dress of Language so plain and familiar, as may alone evince, my design was to write of this Argument, neither as an Orator, nor as a Moral Philosopher, but only as a Natural one conversant in Pathology, and that too more for his own private satisfaction, than the instruction of others. And thus have I succinctly acquainted you with the Occasion, Subject, Scope and Style of the Treatise that accompanieth this Epistle.  
But this, Noble Sir is not all whereof I ought to advertise you, before you come to open the Treatise itself. There remain yet two or three things more, which it imports me to offer to your notice, as Preparatives against prejudice.  
ONE is, that if in the preliminary part of the Discourse, where it was necessary for me to investigate the Subjectum Primarium of the Passions, I have declared my assent to their opinion, who hold that in every individual Man, there are two distinct Souls, coexistent, conjoined, and cooperating; one, only Rational, by which he is made a Reasonable creature; the other, Sensitive, by virtue whereof he participateth also of Life and Sense: I did so chiefly for these two reasons.  
First, it seemed to me unintelligible, how an Agent incorporeal, but not infinite, such as the Rational Soul by her excellent faculties and proper acts appears to be, can act physicaly in and upon a gross and ponderous body, such as ours are, immediately or without the mediation of a third thing; which though corporeal too, may yet be of a substance so refined and subtle, as to approach somewhat nearer to the nature of a pure Spirit, than the body itself doth: and therefore for the more probable explication of the Phenomena of the Passions which are not raised in the Rational Soul, I found myself obliged to admit her to have a Sensitive one conjoined with her, to receive her immediate suggestions, and to actuate the body according to her sovereign will and pleasure; there being less of disparity betwixt the most thin and subtle bodies of Light and Flame (whereof many eminent Philosophers have conceived a Sensitive Soul to consist) and a substance purely Spiritual, than between a pure spirit and a gross, heavy body, as ours is.  
Secondly it seemed to me no less unconceivable, whence that dismal 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or intestine war which every Man too frequently feels within himself, and whereof even St. Paul himself so sadly complained, when (in Epist. ad Roman. cap. 3.) he cries out, video aliam legem in membris meis repugnantem legi mentis meae; should arise, if not from a Duumvirate as it were of Rulers contending for superiority within us, and inclining us two contrary ways at once. For, to conceive that one and the. same Simple thing, such as the Reasonable Soul is rightly presumed to be, can be repugnant to itself, or at one and the same time be possessed with opposite affections; is manifestly absurd. There are indeed, who to evade this absurdity, imagine it possible, that of one and the same Rational, simple Soul, there may be two distinct Faculties or powers opposite each to other, from whose clashings and contrary inclinations this civil war may proceed. But to oblige us to swallow this palpable contradiction, these Men ought to have reconciled those two repugnant notions of Simple and Compound; and to have told us, why in the same simple substance of fire there cannot likewise be two mutualy repugnant faculties, heat and cold. In a Mixed body there may be, I confess, opposite faculties; and therefore the like may be imagined also in the Rational Soul, if she be conceived to be of a mixed or compound nature: but this is against their own supposition, and destructive to the natural immortality of the Soul. What then can remain to cause this dire war daily observed within us, betwixt the allurements of our Sense, on one side, and the grave dictates of our Mind, on the other; but two distinct Agents, the Rational Soul and the Sensitive, coexistent within us, and hotly contending about the conduct of our Will?  
But You, Sir, will perhaps tell me, there may another, and that a more probable cause be given of this hostility; and that the searching wit of Monsieur des Cartes hath been so happy to discover what it is, in libr. de Passion. part. 1. art. 47. where he thus reasoneth. In no other thing (saith he) but in the repugnancy that is between the motions which the Body by its spirits, and those which the Soul by her will, do at the same time endeavour to excite in the Glandula Pinealis in the brain, consist all the Conflicts which Men commonly imagine betwixt the inferior part of the Soul, which is named the Sensitive, and the Superior, which is called the Rational, or betwixt the appetites natural and the will. For, in us there is only one Soul, which hath in her no variety of parts: the same that is Sensitive, is also Rational, and all the appetites thereof are volitions. The Error by which divers persons as it were, that are for the most part mutualy contrary, come to be imposed upon her; hath proceeded only from hence, that hitherto her functions have not been sufficiently distinguished from the functions of the Body; to which alone is to be ascribed all that can be observed in us to be repugnant to our reason. So that here is no other Contrast, but that when the Glandule seated in the middle of the brain, is impelled on one part by the Soul, and on the other by the Spirits Animal, which are nothing but bodies, as I have before declared: it often happens, that those two impulses or impressions are contrary each to other, and that the stronger hindereth the effect of the weaker. Now there may be distinguished two kinds of motions excited in the Glandule by the spirits: some represent to the Soul objects that move the Senses, or impressions found in the brain, and use no force upon the will; others use force, namely those that make the Passions, or the motions of the body that accompany them. And as for the first; though they often hinder the actions of the Soul, or be hindered by them; yet because they are not directly contrary, there is no strife or contention observed in them: but only betwixt the last and the Wills that are repugnant to them; for Example, betwixt the endeavour by which the spirits impel the Glandule to induce upon the Soul a desire of some one thing, and that by which the Soul repels the same Glandule by her will to avoid it. And this chiefly demonstrateth this strife, that since the will hath not power (as hath been already shown) to excite Passions directly, the Soul is therefore compelled to use art, and to apply herself to the consideration of various things successively. Whence if it happen that any one of those various things hath the force of changing for a moment the course of the spirits; it may so fall out, that the next thing that occurs to be considered, may want the like force, and the spirits may resume their former course, because the precedent disposition in the nerves, in the heart, and in the blood, hath not been changed: whereby it comes to pass, that the Soul almost in the same moment feels herself impelled to desire and decline the same thing. And this hath given Men occasion of imagining in the Soul two powers mutualy repugnant. But yet there may be conceived a certain Conflict in this, that oftentimes the same cause that exciteth some Passion in the Soul, exciteth also in the Body some certain motions, whereunto the Soul contributeth nothing at all, and which she stops, or endeavours to stop, so soon as she observes them: as is manifest from experience, when that which exciteth Fear, causeth also the spirits to flow into the Muscles that serve to move the legs to flight; and occasioneth the will of exercising Courage to stop them.  
To this Objection therefore I answer (1.) that had this excellent Man, Monsieur des Cartes been but half as conversant in Anatomy, as he seems to have been in Geometry, doubtless he would never have lodged so noble a guest as the Rational Soul, in so incommodious a closet of the brain, as the Glandula Pincalis is; that use whereof hath been demonstrated to be no other but to receive into its spongy cavities, from two little nerves, a certain serous Excrement, and to exonerate the same again into its vein, which nature hath therefore made much larger than the artery that accompanieth it; and which having no Communication with the external organs of the Senses, cannot with any colour of reason be thought the part of the brain, wherein the Soul exerciseth her principal faculties of judging and commanding. (2.) This Glandule which he supposeth to be so easily flexible and yielding to contrary impulses, is not loosely suspended, but fixed: so that whoever hath once beheld the solid basis, strong consistence, and firm connexion thereof, will hardly ever be brought to allow it capable of any impulse to either side, though by the greatest Hurricane of spirits imaginable; much less by every light motion of them excited by external objects affecting the senses. (3) Though we should grant this Gland to be both the Throne of the Soul, and most easily flexible every way: yet hath Des Cartes left it still unconceivable, how an Immaterial Agent, not infinite, comes to move by impuls a solid body, without the mediation of a third thing that is less disparil or disproportionate to both. Now these things duly considered, you will (I presume) no longer imagine the Conflicts or Combats that frequently happen within us betwixt the Rational and Sensitive Appetites, to consist only in the repugnancy of the impulses of this little Glandule by the Spirits on one side, to those of the same Glandule by the Soul on the other. Besides, that the Soul hath power to excite Corporeal Passions directly, that is, without considering successively various things; is manifest from her sovereignty over the body, which in all voluntary actions is absolute and uncontrollable; and in the very instance of Fear alleged by our Author, where she determineth her Will to Courage to oppose the danger suggested, instantly and without running through a long series of various considerations, for which she then hath not time sufficient. However, evident enough it is, that this conceit of repugnant impulses of this Gland in the brain, is so far from giving light to the reason of the Conflict here considered, that it rather augmenteth the obscurity thereof, by implying two contrary Appetites or Wills in one and the same Soul, at one and the same time: Whereas the supposition of two Souls mutually opposing each others Appetites, doth render the same intelligible.  
Against this opinion of a Duality of Souls in one Man, some have (I well know) with not a little confidence urged the Sentence of some of the Fathers, yea and of whole Councils condemning all who should assert it; and more particularly Concil. 8. act. 10. Vienn. in Clem. VII. & Lateran. 3. sess. 8.  
But this, Sir, is Brutum fulmen, dangerous to none, terrible only to the Unlearned. For, to any understanding reader of those decrees, it is clearly manifest, that the edge of them is turned against first the doctrine of the Manichees holding two human Souls in every individual Man; one polluted with the stain of vices, and derived from an evil principle; the other incontaminate, and proceeding immediately from God, yea more, a particle of the Divine Essence itself; then the Platonics also, and Averrhoists, teaching that the Rational Soul is not man's forma informans, but part of the Anima Mundi or Universal Soul: but not against the asserters of two Souls coexistent, one simply Reasonable, the other merely Sensitive, in every single person, in that innocent sense I deliver it. And thus have the same Decrees been judiciously interpreted by the religious Philosophers of the Colleague of Conimbra; who as of all Men they have discoursed most acutely and profoundly of this Argument; so have they with greatest moderation treated the Defendants of this opinion by me here embraced. For (in 1. de Generate. cap. 4. quaest. 21. art. 2.) though they expressly avow their adherence rather to the common belief of the singularity of the Human Soul, as most consentaneous to the sense of the Church: yet they declare also, that the contrary opinion ought not to be censured as heretical or erroneous.  
Why therefore should I fear to espouse it? especially if to the reasons here urged, and others no less considerable alleged by me in the third Section of the Treatise to which this Epistle invites you, be added for confirmation, that so celebrated text of St. Paul (ad Thessaly 1. cap. 5. vers. 23.) 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, integer vester Spiritus, & anima, & corpus, etc. Where our most learned Dr. Hammond of pious memory (in his Annotations on the place) conceives the Apostle to divide the whole Man into three constituent parts, viz. the Body, which comprehendeth the flesh and members; the Vital Soul, which being also Animal or Sensitive, is common likewise to Brutes; and the Spirit, by which is denoted the Reasonable Soul originally created by God, infused into the body, and from thence after death to return to God; and this genuine exposition of his he confirms by agreeing testimonies both of Ethnic Philosophers, and some ancient Fathers.  
To these give me leave to superadd (ex abundanti) the concordant suffrages of three eminent Philosophers of our own age; namely the Lord Chancellor Bacon, who (in his 4 Book of the Advancement of Learning, chap. 3.) gravely discoursing of the parts of Knowledge concerning the Mind or Soul of Man, divideth it into that which declares the nature of the Reasonable Soul, which is a thing Divine; and that which treateth of the Unreasonable Soul, which is common to us with Beasts: and then proceeds to affirm at large, that the former hath its original from the inspiration or breath of God; the later, from the matrices of the Elements: the immortal Gassendus, de Physiologia Epicuri, cap. de Animae sede, Passionibms Animi, etc. and the now flourishing Dr. Willis, in libr. de Anima Brutorum cap. 7. whose words I forbear to transcribe, out of design to increase your satisfaction, by obliging you to read them at your leisure in the places cited. Now if solid Reasons, Authority Divine, and the judgement of many sublime Wits and profound Philosophers, aswell Ancient as Modern, be of any weight to recommend this neither heretical, nor improbable opinion to me; certainly I need not blush to incline thereunto. Notwithstanding this, I recount the same tanquam in Hypothesi, only as a supposition convenient to solve the Phenomena of the Passions; not as an article of my faith: nor had I so importunely insisted thus long upon arguments to justify my approbation thereof, in this Letter; had I not, through want of Books, omitted to do it where I ought, in the III. Section of the Discourse itself. ¶  
The SECOND advertisement I owe you, Friend, is this, that the greatest part of what is delivered in the same Discourse, concerning the nature, substance, faculties, Knowledge, etc. of a Sensitive Soul, hath been borrowed from that elaborate work of our Learned Dr. Willis de Anima Brutorum, lately published. Which I hold myself bound here ingeniously to acknowledge left otherwise you might justly condemn me as a Plagiary, and that I may invite you also to the pleasure of attentively reading that useful Book. Wherein I found great part of what I had formerly read of that subject in various Authors, so well collected, digested and explained; that I chose from thence to copy an image of the Sensitive Soul of Man, whereupon I was often to reflect my thoughts, while I fate to describe the most remarkable of the Passions to which it is liable: and this I did the rather, because at that time I had by me no other Book of the same subject.  
You are not therefore to look upon the Description of the nature and affections of a Sensitive Soul therein delivered, as a supposition newly excogitated, and unheard of by former ages. For to Men conversant in the Theories of Physiologists concerning that Subject, it is well known, that all the Ancients were so far from holding the Soul of a Brute to be other than Corporeal, that they for the most part taught their Disciples, that the Soul of Man was so too: except a few of them, namely Pythagoras, Plato, and in some favourable sense Aristotle (when he defined the Soul by that enigmatical term 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) and his Sectators, Aristoxenus and Dicaearchus, when they called it a Harmony. True it is indeed, they were much divided in their opinions about the Substance or Matter of a Soul; some imagining it to be of Fire, as Heraclitus, Democritus, Hipparchus, and the Stoics; some conceiving it to be on the contrary, of a Watery nature, as Hippon, and Thales; others fancying it to be composed of Water and Earth, as Xenophanes; others, of Earth and Fire, as Parmenides; others again, of all the four Elements, as Empedocles: and yet notwithstanding they unanimously consented in these points, that this Corporeal Soul is divisible; composed of particles extremely small, subtle and active; diffused through or coextens to the whole body wherein it is contained; produced at first by generation out of the seed of the parents; perpetualy recruited or regenerated out of the purest and most spirituous part of the nourishment; subject to Contraction and Expansion in passions; and finally dissolved or extinguished by death. If you doubt of the truth of what I here say, I know not how more easily to convince you, than by referring you to the incomparable Gassendus in Lib. 10. Diogen. Laert. cap. de natura, contexturàque Animae ad mentem Epicuri: where you find the same more amply delivered.  
Meanwhile suffer me to recite a pertinent and memorable text of the Lord Verulam's (of the Advancement of Learning Book 4. Chap. 3.) that now comes into my head. The Sensible Soul (saith he) must needs be granted to be a Corporeal substance, attenuated by heat and made invisible. I say, a thin, gentle gale of wind swelled and blown up from some flamy and and airy nature; endued with the softness of air to receive impression, and with the vigour of fire to embrace action; nourished partly by an oily, partly by a watery substance; spread over the body; residing (in perfect creatures) chiefly in the head; running through the nerves; refreshed and repaired by the spirituous part of the blood of the arteries: as Bernardinus Telesius (de rerum natura lib. 5.) and his Scholar Augustinus Donius have delivered it.  
And as for the Bipartition of this Sensitive Soul into two principle members as it were, or active sources; vix. the Fiery part, upon which Life depends; and the Lucid, from whence all the faculties Animal are, like so many distinct rays of light, derived: I will not affirm it to be very ancient: but yet methinks, I discern more than a shadow thereof in some lines of the same most acute Lord Bacon (de vita & morte, explicatione canonis quartae) which are these.  
Spiritus vitalis omnis sibi continuatur, per quosdam canales, per quos permeat, nec totaliter intercipitur. Atque hic Spiritus etiam duplex est: alter ramosus tantum, permeans per parvos ductus, & tanquam lineas; alter habet etiam cellam, ut non tantum sibi continuetur, sed etiam congregetur in spatio aliquo cavo, in bene magna quantitate, pro analogia corporis; atque in illa cella est fons rivulorum, qui inde deducantur. Ea cella praecipue est in ventriculis cerebri, qui in animalibus magis ignobilioribus angusti sunt; adeo ut videantur spiritus per universum corpus fusi, potius quam cellulati: ut cernere est in Serpentibus, Anguillis, Muscis, quorum singulae portiones abscissae moventur diu: etiam Aves diutius, capitibus avulsis, subsultant; quoniam parva habeant capita, & parvas cellas. At animalia nobiliora ventriculos eos habent ampliores; & maximè omnium Homo. Alterum discrimen inter spiritus est, quod spiritus Vitalis nonnullam habeat incensionem, atque sit tanquam aura composita ex flamma, & aere; quemadmodum succi animalium habeant & oleum, & aquam. At illa incensio peculiares praebet motus, & facultates. Etenim & fumus inflammabilis, etiam ante flammam conceptam, calidus est, tenuis, mobilis: & tamen alia res est, postquam facta sit flamma: at incensio spirituum vitalium, multis partibus lenior est, quam mollissima flamma ex spiritu vini, aut alias; atque insuper mixta est magna ex parte, cum substantia aerea; ut sit & flammeae, & aereae naturae mysterium.  
This place of that Prince of Modern Philosophers, the Lord St. Alban, conjoined to that other of his immediately precedent, seems to me to contain a portraiture of the Sensitive Soul, drawn indeed as in perspective, in colours somewhat faint, and not accurately ground; yet with good judgement, and bold strokes of the pencil, such as give it no obscure resemblance of the original. And if you (Sir) please to compare it with the more ample description of the same Sensitive Soul, lately set forth by Dr. Willis: it will not be difficult to you, to observe, in how many things they agree. agree  
The THIRD and last thing whereof I am here to advertise you, is, that in the description of many of the Passions likewise, I have interwoven some threads taken from the webs of those three excellent Men, Gassendus, Des Cartes, and our Mr. Hobbes; who have all written most judiciously of that obstruse theme. Nor will I otherwise excuse myself for being so liberal to you, of what I owe to the bounty of those richer Wits; than by reciting what your beloved Seneca said to his dear Lucilius, in defence of his adopting for his own so many wise and memorable sentences of his, and our Oracle, Epicurus: adhuc de alieno liberalis sum. Quare autem alienum dixi? quicquid benè dictum est ab ullo, meum est. Epist. 16. I will only add, as a reason of my so frank communication of these unpolished papers to you, who are my Lucilius, what the same Latin Stoic most affectionately professed to his, on the like occasion: Ego vero cupio ista omnia in te transfundere, & in hoc gaudeo aliquid discere, ut doceam. Nec me ulla res delectabit, licet eximia sit & salutaris, quam mihi uni sciturus sim. Si cum hac exceptione detur Sapientia, ut illam inclusam teneam, nec enunciem, rejiciam. Epist. 6. ¶   

INDEX OF THE CONTENTS.  

SECTION. I.  INtroduction, 
Page 2.   

SECT. II.  Article 1 WHat kind of Substance a Sensitive Soul may be conceived to be. 
pag. 5.  2. Two Reasons of that Supposition. 
p. 6.  3. Second Supposition that the substance of a Sensitive Soul is fiery: 
p. 9  4. Because Life is seated principally in the blood; and can no more than fire itself, subsist without aliment and ventilation, 
p. 9  5. And because a Sensitive Soul seems to be first form of the most Spirituous particles of the same seminal matter, whereof the body itself is made. 
p. 12.  6. A Sensitive Soul imagined to be also of the same figure with the body it animates. 
p. 13.  7. That the Existence of a Sensitive Soul d●th, ●s that of flame, depend entirely upon motion. 
p. 14.  8. That the first Operation of a Sensitive Soul, is the Formation of the body, according to the model preordained by nature. 
p. 16.  9 Recapitulation of the premises. 
p. 19  10. The Faculties and Organs of a Sensitive Soul, reciprocaly inservient each to other. 
p. 20.  11. A twofold desire or inclination congenial to a Sensitive Soul; viz. of Self-preservation, and Propagation of her kind. 
p. 22.  12. To what various Mutations and irregular Commotions a Sensitive Soul is subject, from her own Passions; 
p. 24.  13. From the temperament and diseases of the body; 
p. 26.  14. From various impressions of external objects; and exorbitant motions of the Animal Spirits. 
p. 27.  15. The various Gestures of a Sensitive Soul, respective to the impressions of external objects variously affecting her. 
p. 28.  16. An inquiry concerning the Knowledge whereby Brutes are directed in actions voluntary. 
p. 30.  17. The Knowledge of Brutes, either innate, or acquired. 
p. 39  18. That Brutes are directed only by natural instinct, in all actions conducing either to their own preservation, or to the propagation of their species: not by Reason; 
p. 41.  19 Nor Material Necessity, 
p. 43.   

SECT. III.  1. THe Excellency of a Rational Soul. 
Pag. 46.  2. Manifest from her proper Objects, 
p. 47.  3. And Acts. 
p. 48.  4. Life and Sense depend not on the Rational Soul of Man, and 
p. 51.  5. Therefore he seems to have also a Sensitive Soul. 
p. 53.  6. The same inferred from the civil war betwixt the Rational and Sensitive Souls. 
p. 54.  7. The Causes of that war. 
p. 55.  8. Wherein sometimes the Sensitive Appetite prevails: and 
p. 57  9 Sometimes the Rational. 
p. 59  10. That the Rational Soul is created immediately by God. 
p. 60  11. The Resemblance betwixt Father and Son, ascribed to the Sensitive Soul. 
p. 61.  12. The Rational Soul seated in that part of the brain which serves to Imagination: and 
p. 61.  13. There connexed to the Sensitive, by the will of her Creator. 
p. 64.  14. Where the manner how she judges of the images of things form in the Imagination. seems to be inexplicable. 
p. 65.   

SECT. IV. Of the Passions of the Mind in general.  1. A Twofold state of the Sensitive Soul; viz. of Tranquillity, and 
p. 68  2. Of Perturbation. 
p. 69.  3. The first, most observable in sleep, and when objects appear indifferent: 
p. 70.  4. The other, manifest in all Passions. 
ibidem.  5. That in the state of Perturbation, the Sensisitive Soul varieth her Gestures, by Contraction or Expansion. 
p. 72.  6. We are not moved to Passion by Good or Evil, but only when we conceive ourselves particularly concerned therein. 
p. 73.  7. All Passions distinguished into Physical, Metaphysical, and Moral. 
p. 74.  8. What are Passions Physical, 
p. 75.  9 What Metaphysical, 
p. 77.  10. And what Moral, 
p. 81.  11. All Passions referred to Pleasure or Pain: and 
p. 82.  12. All their Motions, to Contraction and Effusion. 
p. 83.  13. Wherein consist Pleasure and Displeasure of Sense. 
p. 83.  14. Rehearsal of the heads handled in this Section. 
p. 85.   

SECT. V. Of the Passions in particular.  1. WHy Men have not been able to observe all Passions incident to the Sensitive Soul. 
p. 85.  2. The Passions best distinguished by having respect to the differences of Time. 
p. 86.  3. Admiration, 
p. 87.  4. Which causeth no Commotion in the heart and blood: and 
p. 89.  5. Yet is dangerous, when immoderate. 
p. 90.  6. Estimation and Contempt, 
p. 91.  7. Both Consequents of Admiration. 
p. 92.  8. No just cause of Self-esteem, but the right use our free will. 
p. 92.  9 Pride. 
p. 93.  10. Humility, virtuous; and 
p. 90.  11. Vicious, or Dejection of Spirit. 
p. 96.  12. Shame and Impudence. 
p. 97.  13. That Pride, and its contrary, Abjectness of Spirit, are not only Vices, but Passions also. 
p. 99  14. Love and Hatred, 
p. 100  15. Defined. 
p. 101.  16. Love not well distinguished into Benevolence and Concupiscence; 
p. 101.  17. But by the various degrees of Estimation, 
p. 103.  18. That there are not so many distinct sorts of Love, as of Objects to excite it. 
p. 104,  19 Hatred, less various than Love. 
p. 106.  20. Desire, always a consequent of Love: but 
p. 106.  21. Not always a Concomitant of it. 
p. 106.  22. The Motions of the Soul and Spirits in Love; and their Symptoms. 
p. 107.  23. The Motions of the Soul and Spirits in Desire. 
p. 109.  24. The Motions of the spirits and blood in Hatred. 
p. 111.  25. Hate, always accompanied with Sadness. 
p. 114.  26. Hope and Fear. 
p. 115.  27. Pusillanimity and Courage. 
p. 116,  28. Emulation, a sort of Magnanimity. 
p. 117.  29. Confidence and Despair. 
p. 117.  30. Doubting. 
p. 118.  31. Remorse and Acquiescence. 
p. 119.  32. The Motions of the Soul and Spirits in Hope. 
p. 121.  33. The Motions of the Soul and spirits in Fear: and 
p. 122.  34. In Desperation. 
p. 124.  35. joy.. 
p. 126.  36. The various Degrees of joy, and their Names. 
p. 127.  37. The various Degrees of Grief, and their distinct Appellations. 
p. 127.  38. Envy and Pity. 
p. 128.  39 Generous Men most inclined to Commiseration; and why. 
p. 129.  40. Commiseration, a species of Grief mixed with Benevolence. 
p. 131.  41. Envy, a sort of Grief mixed with Hate. 
p. 131.  42. Acquiescence of mind, a kind of Joy. 
p. 132.  43. Repentance, a species of Grief, but allayed with a touch of Joy. 
p. 133.  44. Favour. 
p. 134.  45. Gratitude. 
p. 135.  46. Indignation▪ 
p. 136.  47. Anger. 
p. 137.  48. Two sorts of Anger; one Harmless, the other Revengeful. 
p. 138.  49. Glory and Shame. 
p. 140.  50. The Motions of the Soul and Spirits in Joy. 
p. 141.  51. Laughter. 
p. 144.  52. The Occasions of Laughter. 
p. 145.  53. Laughter from Indignation. 
p. 146.  54. A rare Example of involuntary Laughter. 
p. 147.  55. Conjecture concerning the Cause thereof. 
p. 148.  56. The Motions and Effects of Sorrow. 
p. 150.  57 Sighs and Tears. 
p. 152.  58. Whence Tears flow: and 
p. 154.  59 How they are expressed. 
p. 155.  60. The reason of weeping for Joy. 
p. 157.  61. Why Infants and Old Men are more prone to shed tears. 
p. 158.  62. The reason of Sighing and Sobbing. 
ibid.  63. The Motions and Symptoms of Anger. 
p. 159.  64. Excess of Anger, to be avoided; and that chiefly by the help of Generosity. 
p. 163.  65. Of all Passions hitherto considered, only six are Simple: the rest Mixed. 
p. 164.  66. Reasons against publication of this Discourse. 
p. 165.   

SECT. VI Conclusion.  1. THat all the Good and Evil of this life, depends upon our Passions, 
p. 168.  2. Which yet were instituted by Nature, as incitements to the Soul. 
ibid.  3. That we are liable to Errors, not from want of an Omniscious Understanding; 
p. 170.  4. But from our ill use of that finite Understanding we have, in the conduct of our desires suggested by Passions. 
p. 172.  5. That all Errors to which such Desires expose us, arise from hence; that we do not sufficiently distinguish things that depend entirely upon ourselves, from those that depend upon others. 
p. 173.  6. Which may be obviated by two General Remedies; viz. Generosity, and 
p. 175.  7. Dependence upon Providence Divine, 
p. 177.  8. Which utterly excluding Fortune, doth yet leave us at liberty to direct our Desires. 
p. 178.  9 How we may extricate ourselves from the Difficulties that seem to make the decrees of Providence Divine, irreconcilable to the Liberty of our Will. 
p. 179.  10. Whence it is, that we are often deceived by our Will, though never with our Will. 
p. 180.  11. A third General Remedy against Error occasioned by our inordinate Passions; viz. Premeditation and Deliberation. 
p. 182.  82. A fourth Universal Preservative; viz. the stant Exercise of Virtue. 
p. 185.  13. Toward the acquisition whereof, the Study of Epicurus' Morals is recommended. ¶ 
p. 187.    

Errors of this Impression to be by the Reader thus Corrected.  
PAg. 1. l. 5. read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. pag. 15. lin. 18. read viviparous. pag. 69. l. 6. read investing. pag. 76. lin. 16. read detests. pag. 180. lin. 8. read undetermined. pag. 185. lin. 2. read thoughts.   

SUMMARY OF THE CONTENTS.  Marcus Antoninus Philosophus Libr. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 2. Sect. 2. 
O, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. Quicquid sum, constat id omne caruncula, ammula, & parte principante. Proinde mitte libros. Nec distrahere amplius: (nihil obstat, quo minus hoc facias) sed tanquam qui jam statim moriturus sis, carnes istas ●●ntemnas. Cruor est, & ossicula, & reticulum ex nervis, venulis arteriisque contextum. Quin & Animam considera, qualis sit. spiritus est, sive aer, nec is semper idem, sed qui jugiter efflatus denuò resorbetur. Tertium restat, pars illa principatum gerens. Tu ergo sic tecum: Senex es: partem tui principem servire ulterius ne siveris; sed nec motibus à communione humana alienis raptari. Nec quicquam quod fato destinatum tibi fuerit, vel jam ascitum aversari, vel futurum pavere.   
NATURAL HISTORY Of the Passions.  

SECTION I. INTRODUCTION.  
THe Reasonable Soul of Man seems to be of a Nature so Divine and Excellent, that it is capable of Understanding all things that are in this life intelligible: but yet so reserved and abstruse withal, that it cannot understand itself; as many most sublime Wits, who had long exercised and perplexed themselves in inquiries into the hidden and mysterious Essence thereof, have at length ingenuously confessed.  
Well therefore may we without blushing, own our ignorance of this noblest part of ourselves, from which we derive all our Knowledge. Well may we without regret content our Curiosity with those faint glimmerings of light, which shine through the Operations of this Celestial guest in our frail and darksome Tabernacles of Flesh; and which are reflected upon our Understanding, only from the illustrious Effects of its proper Powers and Acts.  
What these Powers and Acts are, and how vastly they transcend the energy of a Sensitive Soul, how perfect soever in its kind; as also in what exercises of the Mind they are chiefly observable; hath been by Sir Kenelm Digby in his Book of the Rational Soul, copiously declared. So that here they need not to be repeated. Nor indeed would such a prolix research be consistent with my present design; which principally aims at a recollection of some notions, that have partly in reading, partly in meditation, occurred to me, concerning the various Passions of the Mind, their Genealogy, their first sources and resorts, their most remarkable Differences, Motions, and Forces, and in fine, by what kind of Connexion and intercourse betwixt two so disparate Natures, the one Incorporeal, the other Corporeal, it is, that the Rational Soul is respectively coaffected by them. And this with as much brevity, as the amplitude of the Subject can admit; with as much perspicuity, as my weak reason can attain unto, in an argument so sublime and difficult.  
That I may then effect this my Design, if not so happily, as in the end to arrive at the certain and demonstrative Knowledge of the truth I seek; yet so plausibly at least, as to form an Hypothesis by which the Nature and Reasons of the principal, and most predominant of our Passions, may be congruously and with probability explained: it is requisite I begin with these few Preliminaries.  
1. What kind of thing I suppose the Sensitive Soul to be, as well in Man, as in Brutes.  
2. What seems to me most consentaneous concerning the Original, Nature, and royal Seat of the Rational Soul.  
3. How, and after what manner I conceive both Souls to be connexed in Man, during this shadow of life.  
4. How the Rational Soul may come to be affected by the motions of the Sensitive, in some Passions; and this, by predominion of that, in others; and whence their mutual consent, and descent.  
For, my present Conceptions concerning these things, though I foresee, I shall not be able to establish them all upon Reasons irrefutable and cogent: are yet nevertheless to be here premised, as Postulates or Fundamentals, for introduction and support of the following Theory about the Passions. These therefore I shall in their order, and concisely, and in a plain familiar Style, (such with which I am always best pleased, especially in Discourses Philosophical) set down, tanquam praecognoscenda. ¶   

SECT II. What kind of Substance the Sensitive Soul may be conceived to be.  
AS for the FIRST Postulatum; 
Article 1. First Supposition, that a Sensitive Soul is Corporeal.  the Sensitive Soul of a Brute Animal, I conceive to be Corporeal, and consequently Divisible, Coextense to the whole Body; of a Substance either Fiery, or merely resembling Fire; of a consistence most thin and subtle, not much unlike the flame of of pure spirit of Wine, burning in a paper Lantern, or other the like close place.  

Art. 2. Two reasons of that supposition.  First, I think it to be Corporeal, Divisible, and Coextense to the whole Body; and that for two reasons, among many others not the least considerable.  
One is this; that many, and divers Animal actions are daily observed to be, at one and the same time, performed by divers Parts and Members of the Body: for instance, the Eye sees, the Ear hears, the Nostrils smell, the Tongue tasteth, and all exterior Members exercise their Sense and Motion, all at once. For as much then as betwixt the Body and Soul of a Brute, there is no Medium (both being intimately connexed) but the Members and Parts of the Body are Instruments framed for the use of the Soul: what else can be imagined, but that many and distinct portions of the Soul so extended, do inform and actuate the distinct Organs and Members of the Body; each in a peculiar manner, respective to the peculiar Constitution, Fabric, and Office thereof?  
The Other this; it is observed also, that Vipers, Eels, Earthworms, and most other Reptiles being cut into many pieces; all pieces for a good while after retain a manifest Motion, and no obscure sense; for, being pricked, they contract and shrink up themselves, as sensible of the Hurt, and striving to avoid it. And this probably from hence, that these less perfect Animals having their liquors, both Vital and Animal, of a consistence viscous, and not easily dissoluble or dissipable; and having their Soul, if not equally, yet universally diffused, and all its parts subsisting immediately in those liquors: cannot suffer a division of their Body, without division of their Soul also; the parts whereof residing for some time after, in the segments of the Body, may perhaps for that time continue to actuate them to Motion and Sense. It hath been more than once unhappily Experimented, that the Head of a Viper hath bitten a Man's Finger, and Poisoned him too, above an hour after it had been cut off. Not by involuntary convulsion of the Nerves and Muscles of the Viper's Jaws, such as not rarely happen to Animals, in the torments of Death; for those probably could neither last so long, nor so regularly open and shut the mouth, and extend the two fang teeth, by contraction of their erecting Muscles: but certainly by an action voluntary, regular and suggested by sense, and perhaps revenge too. Whence I am apt to suspect, that not only part of the Viper's Soul, but Anger and Revenge also survived in the divided head. For, it is well known, the bite of a Viper is never Venomous, but when he is enraged: the Crystalline liquor contained in the two little Glandules at the roots of his fang teeth, being then by a copious afflux of Spirits from the Brain, and other brisk motions thereupon impressed, in anger (of all passions the most violent and impetuous) so altered, and exalted, as to become highly active and venenate; whereas at other times, when a Viper is not offended and provoked, the same Liquor is found to be as harmless as the spittle of a Man in perfect health. But whether from the dangerous effects of this biting, the dire Symptoms that thereupon ensued, it be inferrible, or not, that in the abscinded head of the beast there remained anything of Anger and Revenge: in my poor judgement 'tis very evident from the very act of biting, there still remained somewhat of life, sense, and voluntary motion. Which is sufficient to verify my present supposition, that a Sensitive Soul is divisible and coextense to the whole body it animates.  
Secondly, 
Art. 3. Second Supposition, that the substance of a sensitive Soul is fiery.  I think the same Sensitive Soul to consist of Fire, or some matter analogous to Fire: and the Reasons inducing me to be of this opinion, are many. Some I have formerly alleged, where I discourse of the Flame of life perpetually arising from accension of the Sulphureous and inflammable parts of the blood, while circulated through the heart and lungs: which therefore I abstain from reciting in this place. Others, that have since occurred to my consideration, I am obliged here to expose to yours.  
That the Life, 
Art. 4. Because life is s●ated principally in the blood; and can no more than fire subsist without perpetual aliment and ventilation●  or Soul of Brute Animals, is seated principally in their Blood; we are plainly taught even by the Oracle of truth itself, the dictates of the Divine Wisdom that created them: and that Blood, and Fire subsist by the same principles, viz. Aliment and Ventilation; is evident from hence, that a defect of either of these, doth equally destroy both the one and the other.  
Should you here exact from me some description of the Essence of Fire, I should adventure to tell you, that it seems to be only a multitude of most minute and subtle particles, mutually touching each other, put into a most rapid motion, and by continual succession of some parts, and decession of others, renewed: which conserveses its motion, and subsistence, by preying upon, and consuming the Sulphureous parts of its subject matter, or fuel, and the Nitrous parts of the ambient aer. For, even our sense bears witness, that from the particles of this twofold aliment, Sulphureous and Nitrous, resolved to the last degree of smallness, and by a most violent and rapid motion agitated, the forms of Fire and Flame (which differ only in degrees of density, and velocity of motion) do wholly result.  
Nor doth the image I find drawn in my brain of the Soul of a Brute, much differ from this description of the nature of Fire. I conceive it to be no other than a certain congregation of most minute, subtle and agile particles, corpuscles or atoms (call them what you please) crowded together; which being, in the very first moment of life, put into brisk and most rapid motion, like that of the particles of Fire when first kindled; do so long conserve that motion, and their own subsistence, as they have a continued supply of convenient nutriment; sulphureous from the blood within, Nitrous from the aer without; and no longer. For we cannot but observe, that the Souls of all Brute Animals, of what kind soever, stand perpetually in need of a fresh supply of those two sorts of aliment; insomuch that so soon as the recruit fails, they languish and die: no otherwise than the flame of a lamp grows weak and dim, and is extinguished, for want of oil or air. But (what is very remarkable) besides fire and life, there is not to be found in all nature any other thing whatsoever, to whose act and subsistence such a supply of Sulphureous and Nitrous matter is necessary. Nor is any other motion in the World, whether it be of fermentation, ebullition, vegetation, or other whatever, besides that of Fire and Life, subject to be arrested and suppressed immediately from defect of aer. It was not then without very great reason, that our Master Hypocrates affirmed, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that the Soul is perpetually generated, or made anew: and that Aristotle held, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, life itself to subsist by respiration.  
This you perhaps may judge to be but a faint and imperfect representation of the nature of a Sensitive Soul. And therefore it is requisite I endeavour to render it more lively, by adding a few touches more concerning the Hypostasis or Subsistence of such a Soul; the Life, or Act; and the principal Functions, or Operations of it.  

Art. 5. Because it seems to be first form of the most spiritual particles of the same seminal matter, of which the Body itself is made.  For the First of these three considerables, viz. the Subsistence of a Sensitive Soul; it seems not unreasonable to conceive, that the Soul of a Brute doth consist of the very same Matter, of which the organical Body is form: but of such particles of it as are select, most subtle, and active in the highest degree. Which, as the flower of the whole matter, in the formation of the Embryo, emerging out of the grosser mass, and mutually uniting; first force passages convenient for themselves through the whole compage of the Body, and then constitute one continued, thin, and as it were spirituous Hypostasis, adequate and coextense to the same. For, so soon as any matter is disposed towards animation; by the law of the Creation (not by Epicurus' fortuitous concourse of Atoms) the Soul at the same time, which is called the Form, and the Body, which is called the Matter, begin to be form together, under a certain species, according to the model or Character impressed upon them. When the more agile, and spirituous particles of the seminal matter, having freed themselves from the other parts of it, quickly assemble together; and by little and little raising a commotion, stir up, and agitate the grosser particles, and by degrees dispose them into fit postures and places, where they ought to remain and cohere; and so form the body according to the figure or shape preordained by the Creator. Mean while this congregation of subtle and active Particles, or the Soul, which by expansion enlargeth itself, and insinuating her particles among others more gross, and as it were interweaving them, frames the body, is itself exactly conformed to the figure and dimensions of the same body, coextended and adapted to it, as to a case or sheath, doth actuate, enliven, and inspire all and all parts thereof. While on the other side, the same Soul, apt and prone of itself to be dissolved, and vanish into aer, is by the Body containing it, conserved in its act and subsistence.  
Now according to this notion, 
Art. 6. A Sensitive Soul imagined to be of the same Figure also with the Body wherein it is contained.  a Sensitive Soul may be conceived to be a most subtle body contained in a gross one, and in all points, of the same Figure with it; or as it were a Spectre made up of exhalations, such as some vain, or superstitious heads have sometimes imagined to ascend from, and hover over the graves of the dead, and called them Ghosts. For, arising together with the body, out of the material principles of Generation rightly disposed; it doth, as well as the body, receive its determinate subsistence, conform to the idea or Type consigned to it by the Law of Nature. But though the same be intimately united to the body, and every where closely intertexd with all parts of it; as the warp and woof are interwoven in cloth: yet so fine and subtle are the threads of which it doth consist, that it cannot possibly by our senses be discerned, nor indeed be known, otherwise than by its own Effects and Operations. Moreover, when by any violence done either to itself, or its Copartner, the Body, the life of this Soul is destroyed; instantly the particles of which it was composed, their mutual cohesion being dissolved, disperse themselves, and fly away, not leaving any the least print or mark of their late subsistence: and the Body now destitute of its conserving inmate, the Soul, speedily tends to corruption; which sooner or later, according to the less or greater compactness of the parts of the body, dissolves that likewise into its first Principles, or Elements.  

Art. 7. That the Existence of a Sensitive Soul doth, as that of Flame, depend entirely upon Motion.  For the Second; it is not obscure, that the Existence of this Corporeal Soul depends entirely upon the Act, or Life of it: and in this very respect, seems exactly like to common Flame, and to that alone; inasmuch as the substance of both ceases to be, in the very instant it ceaseth from Motion, wherein the very life of both doth consist; nor can either of the two be, by any means whatever, redintegrated, so as to be numerically the same thing it was. From whence it seems a genuine consequence, that the Essence, or Being of a Sensitive Soul, hath its beginning wholly from life, as from the accension or kindling of a certain subtle and inflammable matter. To render this yet more plain; when in the Genital matter, swarms of active, and spirituous, chiefly Sulphureous particles, predisposed to animation, have met with a less number of Saline particles, in a convenient focus; being as it were kindled, sometimes by another Soul (as in all Vivaparous Animals) viz. of the Generant, sometimes by their own rapid motion (as it happens in Oviparous) they conceive life, or break forth into a kind of flame, which thenceforth continues to burn so long as it is constantly fed with sulphureous fuel from within, and nitrous from without; but instantly perisheth, when either through defect of such aliment, or violence from external agents, it comes once to be extinct. This Act of the Corporeal Soul, or enkindling of the vital matter, is in more perfect Animals, such as are furnished with hot blood, so manifestly accompanied with great heat, fuliginous exhalations, and other effects of fire, or flame; that it is difficult for even the most Sceptical person in the World to doubt, that the blood is really in a continual burning, and that life is rather Flame itself, than only like it. But in other Animals less perfect, and endowed with blood less hot; though we cannot say their Soul is properly Flame: yet we may say, it is somewhat very like it, namely a swarm of most subtle, active and as it were fiery particles, or a spirituous Halitus: which included in the body, doth move and agitate the denser mass thereof, and inspire the whole, and actuate all the members, and in some with admirable agility, even beyond that of more perfect Animals; as may be observed in some Reptiles and Infects. And that even in these there is a fiery vigour or force constantly acting, may naturaly be inferred from hence; that while they remain not unactive and drowsy (as in winter usually they do) they can no more want the aliments of life, a perpetual supply of blood and aer, than Animals of a hotter constitution; as we shall soon declare. *  

Art. 8. That the first operation of a Sensitive  As for the Third and last considerable, viz. the Faculties and Operations of a Corporeal or Sensitive Soul; I shall only in the general observe, 
Soul, is the Formation of the Body, according to the model preordained by Nature.  that so soon as she begins actually to exist, she first frames for herself a convenient seat wherein to reside, the body; and then organizeth the same body, making it (according to the platform or model preordained, and intimated by secret instinct) in all parts sit and commodious for all uses necessary, as well to the propagation of the Species (for still Nature doth, though the Soul itself may not, aim at Eternity) as to the conservation of the individual. For which uses she is furnished with many and various Faculties or Powers; all which she duly exerciseth, according to the various instincts, and intimate suggestions of her Governess, Nature, in acts of several sorts; though all performed in almost one and the same manner, and as it were by the conduct of Fate, or eternal decree of Divinity congenial to her very Essence. To enumerate, and particularly recount all the natural Faculties with which the Souls of Brutes are endowed; all the various Habits resulting from practice and long exercise of those Faculties; is neither pertinent to my present institute, nor easy to be done: because of their almost infinite diversity, respective to the immense diversity of kinds of sensitive creatures. For, as some Animals are of a more, others of a less perfect order; and as they are diversely configurated, according to the several places in this great Theatre of the World, in which they are consigned to live and act their several parts: so we see their Souls are, by the wise bounty of the Creator, instructed with divers inclinations, faculties, and appeties, directive to the ends to which they were predestined. In a word; since there ought to be an exact proportion and congruity betwixt every organical Body, and the Soul that informs and animates it; and that for that reason, Nature seems to have diversified and distinguished the various Kind's of Brute Animals, by an equal diversity of their bodily structures and configurations, easily discernible by the sight: we may even from thence alone conclude, that their Corporeal Souls likewise are no less various, and endowed with Faculties and Proprieties answerably different.  
Whoever then shall attempt to enrich Philosophy with a perfect Catalogue of these so different Faculties and Proprieties observable among Brutal Souls; will find himself obliged, first to compose a better Natural History of all sorts of Animals, than any we yet have, and then to deliver also a true and full account of the various Structures of their Bodies, from a Comparative Anatome of them. A work indeed most desirable and highly delightful, but equally difficult, and laborious; nor to be performed, I fear, by any single hand. But were it much less difficult; sure I am, you know my incapacity too well, ever to expect it from mine: and what hath been already said by me here, in the general, touching the nature of a Sensitive Soul; is enough to render my First Preliminary probable.  
For, from thence it may, 
Art. 9 A recapitulation of the premises.  without contradiction to either reason, or observations Anatomical, be conceived (1) in what manner the Soul of a Brute may be at first produced by accension of the most spirituous particles of the Seminal humour, in the womb of the Parent, as one flame is kindled by another: (2) how the same Soul than forms the Organical Body out of the grosser parts of the same seed, after the figure or type predesigned by the Divine Protoplast at the Creation, whose wisdom directs and regulates it in that admirable work: (3) How it afterwards comes to conserve, expand and augment itself, as the dimensions of the body are by degrees enlarged, until it arrive at its perfection or standard of growth; by accension of more and more of the inflammable parts of the Nourishment daily renewed, and converted into laudable blood; as the flame of a lamp is kept alive by a perpetual accension of fresh parts of oil; (4) How the Duration of the Body depends entirely upon the subsistence, or perpetual renovation or regeneration of the Soul; and how immediately upon the Soul's Extinction, the body submits to corruption; no otherwise than as Wine dies, and degenerates into a Vappa, so soon as the spirit that preserved it in vigour and generosity, is evaporated, or suppressed.  

Art. 10. The Faculties and Organs of a Sensitive Soul, reciprocaly inservient each to other.  Now to the end this Corporeal Soul, or invisible Flame, may the better thus animate the Body, and actuate it to sense and voluntary motion; Nature hath most wisely instituted, that her Organs, and Faculties should all of them be reciprocaly inservient or official each to other, in their acts and operations. For, as out of the grosser parts of the Nutritive juice, prepared and elaborate in the Stomach and other instruments of concoction, the decays of the solid parts of the Body are daily repaired: so are the decays of the Soul itself likewise repaired out of the more subtle and spirituous particles of the same juice: which continually brought afresh to the blood, as oil to a Lamp, and kindled therein, restore both the Flame and Light of the Soul, which would otherwise quickly be consumed, and perish. More expressly; while the purer part of the Nutritive liquor feeds and renews the Lamp of life, or flame of the blood; the most active, and most spirituous particles discharged from that flame, are carried up, and insinuated into the Brain: and there recruite or regenerate the other part of the Soul, viz. the Sensitive. And so the conversion of Chyle into blood, is an operation not only consequent to, but in some sort also dependent upon the conversion of meat and drink into Chyle: and on the other side, the Animal faculty gratefully requites the good offices of the Vital, and both as amply recompense the services of the faculty of Chylification; in that the Animal spirit confers the pulsific power, by which the heart and arteries drive the current of the blood in a perpetual round, for the reaccension of its inflammable parts; and the Bowels ordained for concoction of the aliment, at the same time borrow, as their enlivening heat from the flame of the blood, so their virtue both motive and sensitive, from the constant afflux of Animal spirits, without out which they cannot duly do their offices. Thus you see the brain is beholden to the heart, both to the stomach; and reciprocally the stomach is assisted by them: and all parts conspire, by contributory helps, to continue the Soul in its subsistence, as that again acts perpetualy to the conversation of herself and them.  

Art. 11. A two fold desire or inclination congenial to a Sensitive Soul; viz. of self preservation, and Propagation of her kind.  To this, the Sensitive Soul, or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 (as Aristotle not improperly calls it) is strictly obliged by a twofold inclination or desire, innate or congenial to her. One is that of self-preservation, which she endeavours constantly to effect by being solicitous for convenient food, out of whose inflammable parts actually incensed, she may every minute redintegrate her own flame. The other, that of Propagating her Species, or producing, by the same way of accension, other Sensitive Souls of the same kind; that so by an uninterrupted succession of her like, she may attain to that perpetuity, which is denied to her single or individual self. And to this end, she carefully selects out of her stock of aliment, matter fit for generation, stores it up in the Genital parts, and is possessed with an earnest longing to transmit the same into a place most commodious for its accension into new Souls.  
For, as it is by natural instinct, that every living creature is from its very ●irth, directed to choose food most agreeable to its nature, and daily to feed thereupon; aswell that the grosser web of the body may from thence, by insensible addition and assimilation of new parts, be augmented more and more, until it attain to due magnitude, or perfection of stature: as that the finer intertexture of the Soul may be, by continually repeated supplies of Spirits, rendered equal and coextense to the body, and enabled to execute all her functions vigorously and effectualy: So it is also from the same natural instinct, that when by that gradual amplification of all lineaments of both body and Soul, the living creature hath at length arrived at its full strength and growth, the Animal Spirits than begin to abound, and swarm in greater multitudes than is necessary to the uses of th' individual; and the luxuriant or superfluous troops of them, together with a certain refined and generous Humour derived from the whole body, are daily transferred into the Genitals (natures both Laboratory, and Magazine for propagation of the Species) there to be further prepared, and form into the Idea of an Animal exactly like to the first Generant, which afterwards is in the amorous congress of male and female, transmitted into the womb, therein to receive its accomplishment.  
Having thus lightly described the principal Faculties, and innate Dispositions of a Sensitive Soul, as also the fundamental laws of her Oeconomy; it remains only, that we consider the various Mutations, and irregular Commotions to which she is liable.  

Art. 12. To what various Mutations and irregular Commotions a Sensitive Soul is subject from her own Passions▪  That the Corporeal Soul, while as a Flame burning within her organical body, she on every side diffuseth heat and light, is herself subject to various Tremble, noddings, Eclipses, inequalities, and disorderly Commotions, as all Flame is observed to be; this (I say) is not obscurely discernible, in the Effects of those alterations, which happen chiefly in her more violent Passions: though indeed not so clearly and distinctly discernible in Brutes, as in Men; in respect they are subject to fewer passions than Man is, and want the faculty of speech to express any one of those few they feel in themselves. Wherefore that we may in some order briefly recount the most remarkable at least of these turbulent Affections incident to the Sensitive Soul; we shall show what Alterations she may suffer (1) from her own proper Passions; (2) from the temperament and diseases of the Body; (3) from various impressions of sensible Objects; and (4) from exorbitant motions of the Animal Spirits.  
Most certain it is, that the Flame of the Soul doth not always burn equally, or at one constant rate; but now more, now less; sometimes briskly and clearly, sometimes dully and dimly. For, it is not only enlarged, or contracted, according as the fuel brought to feed it, is more or less in quantity, and more or less sulphureous in quality: but the very accension of it in the heart, though of itself moderate and equal, is yet sometimes so varied by the fanning as it were of the Passions; that one while it blazeth up to a dangerous excess, as it usualy happens in great Anger and Indignation; another while it is in danger of being blown out, by sudden and surprising joy; or almost suffocated, by unexpected Terror, or astonishing Grief. The like may be said of the rest of the Passions, or strong Affects, by whose various motions the Flame of life, like the flame of a candle exposed to the winds, is variously agitated and changed: as will more clearly appear from our ensuing discourse of the Passions in particular.  

Art. 13. From the temperament and diseases of the Body.  Nor is it▪ from the sudden puffs, or impulses of Passions alone, that such immutations and inequalities as these proceed. Sometimes it comes to pass, that the Vital Flame by slow degrees, and as it were Hecticaly diminished, becomes little, pale, faint and half-extinct; as may be observed in colder temperaments, in Leucophlegmatic bodies, in Hydropic persons, in Virgins troubled with the Green-sickness, and other the like chronic diseases. In which the blood being more serous or watery than it ought to be, yields but little flame, and that too inconstant, and beclouded with fume and vapour; like that which ariseth from wet and green wood. On the contrary, it sometimes happens, that the blood being immoderately sulphureous, is almost wholly put into a conflagration; as is frequently observed in Choleric constitutions, and feverish distempers, and great debauches with Wine. And as by these and such like disorders of the blood, the accension of the Vital Flame is with respective variety altered: so likewise do the Lucid particles that arise to the brain from thence, and constitute the beamy web of Animal Spirits, become more, or less luminous, and regular, or irregular in their motions. For instance; From the diminished or restrained accension of the blood, the sphere of the Sensitive Soul is contracted into less compass than that of the body, and reduced to such narrowness, that it cannot re-expand itself so as to illustrate all the brain, and actuate the whole contexture of the nerves, with requisite brightness and vigour. And on the other side, when the flame of life is much intended or increased (provided it blaze not to the height of a fever) than the whole system of Animal spirits thence deradiated, being proportionably augmented, swells to an expansion beyond the limits of the body; insomuch that a Man transported and exulting for great joy, or puffed up with Pride, seems to be inflated above measure, and hardly able to contain himself within the modest bounds of his own dimensions.  
Besides these Alterations which the Sensitive or Lucid part of the Soul suffers from the various changes of the Vital; 
Art. 14. From various imp●essions of s●●sible objects, and exorbitant motions of the Animal spirits.  there are others, and those very many, which it receives immediately both from affections of the Brain, and Nerves, and from External objects making impressions thereupon: which perturb the consistence, and usual order of its parts. For example; at night, the Brain itself, from a too plentiful infusion of the Nutrive liquor, as from a gloomy cloud overcast, seems replete with vapours; so that in sleep, the Lucid part of the Soul is wholly obscured, and envellopped as it were with darkness. Nor is it rare to have Eclipses of one, or more of the Faculties Animal, merely from some morbisic matter, or gross humour fixed somewhere in the brain, and obstructing the ways of the Animal spirits. Sometimes these Animal spirits are not themselves sufficieiently pure, clear and bright; but infected and beclouded with incongruous steams, saline, vitriolic, nitrous, and other the like darksome exhalations; which deform the images of things drawn in the brain, change them into false and chimerical representations, and raise exorbitant motions of the spirits. Whence it sometimes comes to pass, that the whole Soul undergoes various metamorphoses, and is invested in strange apparitions, and confused with delusory whimsies: as it too frequently happens to Men in Hypochondriacal Melancholy, and madness; and likewise in drunken fits.  

Art. 15. The various Gestures of a Sensitive Soul, respective to the impressions of external objects variously affecting her.  And as for the various Gestures of the Soul, by which respectively to the various impressions of sensible objects, she expresseth one while Gladness and Pleasure; another, Aversion and Offence: it is worthy our observation, that sometimes she is alured outwardly into the organ of some one of the senses, and that she occasionaly crowds herself into the Eye, Ear, Palate, or other instrument of sense, there more nearly to approach and entertain the pleasing object; sometimes on the contrary, to avoid an Evil she apprehends, and decline an encontre with an ingrateful object, she retreats inwardly, and leaving her watches, shrinks up herself, as if she laboured to hide her head from the danger threatened. So that we can scarcely perceive, or imagine any thing without disquiet and commotion: and at the apprehension of almost any object whatsoever, the whole Soul is moved, and put into a trembling, and the substance of it variously agitated, as a field of corn is waved to and fro by contrary gusts of winds.  
Nor do these agitations, especially if they be any whit violent, stop at the Sensitive part of the Soul, or spirits Animal (which I imagine to make a kind of lucid Fluidum, subject to Undulations or waving motions throughout, upon either external, or internal impulses) but, as waves roll on till they arrive at the shore, are carried on, by an Undulating motion, even to the Vital part glowing in the blood; and impelling the flame thereof hither and thither, make it to burn unequaly. For, so soon as an object is either by the sense, or by the Memory, represented to the Imagination, under th' appearance of Good, or Evil; in the very same instant it affects, and commoves the Animal Spirits destined to maintain the Pulse of the heart: and by their influx, causing the heart to be variously contracted, or dilated; consequently renders the motion, and accension of the blood variously irregular and unequal. And thus you see in what manner the two parts of the Sensitive Soul, the Vital flame, and the Animal spirits reciprocally affect each other with their accidental alterations. But this you may understand more clearly and fully from the following Theory of the Passions, where we shall inquire into the reasons and motions of them more particularly.  

Art. 16. An Enquiry concerning the Knowledge whereby Brutes are directed ●● actions vol●ntary.  Mean while I find myself in this place arrested by a certain mighty Difficulty, which though perhaps I shall not be able to overcome, ought nevertheless to be attempted; not only for its own grand importance, but because without some plausible Explication of it at least, all our precedent speculations concerning the nature and proprieties of a Sensitive Soul, will fall to the ground; as an arch that wants a key, or middle-stone to support all the rest.  
It is concerning the Knowledge of Brutes, by which they are directed in actions voluntary.  
For, supposing all we have hitherto been discoursing of the Origin, Substance, Subsistence, Parts, Faculties, Inclinations, Passions and Alterations of a Corporeal Soul, to be true and evident (which is more than I dare assume) yet doth it not from thence appear, what such a Soul can by her own proper virtue do more than a Machine artificialy framed and put into motion. To speak more plainly; though it be granted; that first th' impression made by an external object upon the instrument of sense, doth by impelling the Animal Spirits inwards, and by disposing them into a certain peculiar figure, or mode (as the Cartesians speak) cause the act of Sensation, or simple Perception; and that then the same spirits rebounding, as it were by a reflex undulation, outward from the brain into the nerves and muscles, produce local motions: granting this, I say, yet still we are to seek, How this Soul, or any one part of it, comes to be conscious of Sensation, or how it can, by a reflex act (as the Schools phrase it) perceive that it doth perceive, and according to that perception, is impelled to divers acts, directed to an appetite of this, or that good, and sometimes in prosecution of the good desired, to perform actions that seem to be the results of counsel and deliberation, such as are daily observed to be done by several sorts of Beasts, as well wild as domestic. In Man indeed, it seems not difficult to conceive, that the Rational Soul, as precedent of all th●inferiour faculties, and constantly speculating the impressions, or images represented to her by the Sensitive, as by a mirror; doth first form to herself conceptions and notions correspondent to their nature, and then proceed to acts of reason, judgement and will. But as for Brutes that are irrational; in what manner the perception, distinction, appetite, memory of objects, and other acts resulting from an inferior kind of reason, are in them performed: this, I confess, is more than I can yet understand. Some there are, I know, who rather than acknowledge their insufficiency to solve this Problem; have attributed to Brutes also Souls immaterial, and subsistent after separation from their bodies. But these considered not, that the Soul of a Brute, however docil and apprehensive, and using organs in their structure very little (if at all) different from those in the head of Man, can yet have no capacity of Arts and Sciences, nor raise itself up to any objects, or acts, but what are Material: and that by consequence, the same is different from, and inferior to the Rational Soul of Man, and material. So that instead of solving the Doubt, by teaching us, how from a certain Modification of subtle matter, there may result such Power, which residing in the brain of a Brute, may there receive without confusion all impressions or images brought in by the Senses, distinctly speculate, judge and know them, and then raise appetites, and employ the other faculties in acts respective to that knowledge, and to those appetites: instead of this, I say, they have entangled themselves in an absurd Error, ascribing to a thing merely material, a capacity of knowing objects immaterial, and performing actions proper only to immaterial Being's.  
We are therefore to search for this Power of a Sensitive Soul, by which she is conscious of her own perception, only in Matter in a peculiar manner so, or so disposed or modified. But in what matter? this of the Soul, or that of the Body? Truly, if you shall distinctly examine either the Soul or the Body of a Brute, as not conjoined and united into one Compositum; you will have a hard task of it, to find in either of them, or indeed in any other material subject whatever, any thing to which you may reasonably attribute such an Energetic and selfmoving Power. But if you consider the whole Brute, as a Body animated, and by divine art of an infinite wisdom designed, framed and qualified for certain ends and uses: than you may safely conclude, that a Brute is, by the law of the Creation, or institute of Almighty God, so comparated, as that from Soul and body united, such a confluence of Faculties should result, as are necessary to the ends and uses for which it was made. Do but convert your thoughts awhile upon Mechanic Engines, and seriously contemplate the motions, powers and effects of them. They are all composed indeed of gross, solid and ponderous Materials: and yet such is the design, contrivance and artifice of their various parts, as that from the figures and motions of them, there result certain and constant operations, answerable to the intent of the Artist, and far transcending the forces of their divided ingredients. Before the invention of Clocks and Watches, who could expect, that of iron and brass, dull and heavy metals, a machine should be framed; which consisting of a few wheels indented, and a spring regularly disposed, should in its motions rival the celestial orbs, and without the help or direction of any external Mover, by repeated revolutions measure the successive spaces of time even to minutes and seconds, as exactly almost as the diurnal revolutions of the Terrestrial globe itself? and yet now such Machines' are commonly made even by some Blacksmiths, and men's admiration of their pretty artifice long since ceased. If then in vulgar Mechanics, the contrivance and advantageous disposition of matter, be more noble and efficacious than matter itself: certainly in a Living Creature, in a Body animate, the Powers emergent from a conspiracy and cooperation of so many, so various organs, and all so admirably form, aught to be acknowledged incomparably more noble, and more Energetic. If the art of Man, weak and ignorant Man, can give to bodies, of themselves weighty, sluggish and unactive, figure, connexion and motion fit to produce effects beyond the capacity of their single natures: what ought we to think of the divine art of the Creator, whose Power is infinite, because his wisdom is so? Could not He, think you, who by the voice of his Will called the World out of Chaos, and made so many myriads of different Being's out of one and the same universal matter; could not He, when He created Brutes, so fashion and organize the various parts and members of their Bodies▪ thereto so adjust the finer and more active contexture of their spirituous Souls, and impress such motions upon them, as that from the union and cooperation of both, a Syndrome or conspiracy of Faculties or Powers should arise, by which they might be qualified and enabled to live, move and act respectively to the proper uses and ends of their Creation? Undoubtedly He could; and 'tis part of my belief, that He did. Nor do I more wonder at the Knowledge of Beasts, by which they are directed in the election of objects, and in the prosecution or avoidance of them; than I do at their simple Perception of them by their outward senses: since I conceive the one to be as much Mechanical, as the other, though perhaps the reason of the one, is of more difficult explication than that of the other.  
When you hear the Music of a Church Organ, is it not as pleasant to your mind, as the Music is to your ear, to consider how so many grateful notes, and consonances that compose the charming Harmony, do all arise only from wind blown into a set of pipes gradualy different in length and bore, and successively let into them by the apertures of their valves? and do you not then observe the Effect of this so artificial instrument highly to excel both the Materials of it, and the hand of the Organist that plays upon it? the like Harmony you have perhaps sometimes heard from a Musical Waterwork, as the vulgar calls it; an Organ that played of itself, without the hands of a Musician to press the jacks, merely by the force of a stream of Water opening and shuting the valves alternately, and in an order predesigned to produce the harmonical sounds, consonances and modes requisite to the composition, to which it had been set.  
Now, to the first of these Organs you may compare a Man; in whom the Rational Soul seems to perform the office of the Organist, while governing and directing the Animal Spirits in all their motions, she disposeth and ordereth all Faculties of the inferior, or Sensitive Soul, according to her will and pleasure: and so makes a kind of Harmony of Reason, Sense, and Motion.  
And to the Other, or Hydraulic Organ you may compare a Brute, whose Sensitive Soul being scarcely moderatrix of of herself, and her Faculties, doth indeed in order to certain ends necessary to her nature, perform many trains of actions; but such as are (like the various parts of an Harmonical Composition) regularly prescribed (as the notes of a Tune are pricked down) by the law of her creation, and determined for the most part to the same thing; viz. the Conservation of herself. So that she seems to produce an Harmony of Life, Sense and Motion.  
But this Analogy seems to be much greater in Brutes of the lowest order, such upon whose Souls or natures there are not many Types or Notes of actions to be done by them, imprinted; and which according to that common saying of the Schools, non tam agunt, quam aguntur, act rather by necessary impulse, or constraint, than freely; and of their own accord: than in more perfect Animals, whose actions are ordained to more, and more considerable uses; and upon whose Souls therefore more original lessons are as it were pricked, down; and to which we cannot justly deny a power of both varying those innate prints, and compounding them one with another occasionaly. Which Power seems to be radicated in the Corporeal Soul, by nature so constituted, as to be knowing and active in some certain things necessary to it; and capable also of being afterward taught, by various accidents usually affecting it, both to know other things, and to do far more, and more intricate actions.  
All the Knowledge therefore these more perfect Brutes are observed to have, 
Art. 17. The Knowledge of Brutes, either Innate or Acquired.  must be either Innate or Adventitious. The Former is commonly named Natural Instinct; which being by the Omnipotent Creator, in the very act of their Formation, infused, and as an indelible Character impressed upon their very principles or natures; both urges them to, and directs them in certain actions necessary to the prorogation of their life, and to the propagation of their kind. The Other is by little and little acquired, by the daily perception of new objects, by imitation, by experience, by man's teaching, and by some other ways: and in some Brutes, is advanced to a higher degree than in others. Nevertheless this same acquired cognition and Cunning also (how great soever) doth in some of them depend altogether upon instinct natural, and the frequent use of it.  
Here it would not perhaps be very difficult for me to recount, what sorts of actions done by more perfect Beasts, are referrible to their Congenite Knowledge alone; what to their acquired alone; and what to a combination of both. I could also show how their acquired knowledge ariseth by degrees from impressions of new objects, from examples, or imitation, from experience and other adventitious helps just now mentioned. I might moreover explain in what manner the direct images of things brought into the common Sensory, produce first Imagination, and then Memory; how the same images reflexed, instantly raise Appetite, if they appear good and agreeable; or Aversion, if displeasing and hurtful; and how thereupon in the same instant Local Motions succeed, for prosecution, or avoidance of the things themselves. All these, I say, I might deduce from notions competent to a Corporeal Soul, and from the powers of a Body informed and actuated thereby, both being comparated for such determinate actions by artifice Divine; without bringing into to the scene any immaterial natures (as some have done) to solve the difficulties concerning the science or knowledge of Brutes. But because these arguments have been already handled by many excellent Men, and curious wits, Sir Kenelm Digby, Monsieur des Cartes, Mr. Hobbes, etc. and most accurately by Dr. Willis, in his late Book de Anima Brutorum, and because a further inquisition into them is not absolutely necessary to my design of explicating the reasons of the Passions: I therefore shall add no more concerning them; but contenting myself with the hints I have given, conclude this Section with two pertinent and remarkable clauses.  
Manifest it is, 
Art. 18. That Brutes are directed only by natural instinct, in all actions that conduce either to their own preservation, or to the propagation of their species: not by Reason.  that all Brute Animals of what kind soever, are by natural instinct alone, as by an eternal rule, or law engraven upon their hearts, urged and directed to do all things that conduce either to their own defence and conservation, or to the propagation of their species. And hence it is necessarily consequent, that in order to their observance of this congenite law, or accomplishment of these two grand Ends of their Creation, they must all, by the dictates of the same natural instinct, both know, whatever things are convenient and beneficial, whatever are inconvenient, hurtful and destructive to them; and according to this knowledge, prosecute these with hatred and aversation, those with love and delight. When therefore we observe Brutes to distinguish betwixt wholesome and venomous plants, to seek for convenient food, cunningly to hunt after prey, retreat from injuries of weather, provide themselves denns and other secret places for rest and security, travel from one Climate to another, and change their stations at certain periods and seasons of the year, to love their benefactors, and fly from their enemies, to court their mates, build nests and other nurseries for their young, to suckle, feed, cherish, protect and teach them, to use a thousand pretty shifts and artifices to elude their pursuers, in fine, to manage all their affairs regularly and prudently, as it were by counsel and deliberation, in order to the two principal ends preordained by the Divine Wisdom: when we (I say) observe all these their actions, we are not to refer them to a principle of Reason, or any free and self-governing Faculty (like the Rational Soul of Man) wherewith they are endowed; but only to Natural Instinct, by which they are incited and directed.  
Neither are we to give credit to their opinion who hold, 
Art. 19 Nor Material Necessity.  that all such actions arise from a kind of Material Necessity (such as Democritus fancied) and without any intention, or Scope aimed at by the Beasts themselves; merely from the congruity or incongruity of images impressed upon the organ of the sense affected: as if Brute Animals were as little conscious of their own actings, as artificial Engines are of their motions, and the reasons of them. For we cannot but observe, that Brutes, by virtue of natural instinct, perform not only simple acts excited by some one single impression made upon this or that Sensory, by an external agent, or object; as when the scorching heat of the Sun in summer beating upon them, makes them to retire to cool and shady places for refuge: but also many other Compound actions, such to which a long series, or chain of subservient acts is required. For instance; in the Spring, when Birds feeling the warmth and invigorating (I had almost called it also the prolific) influence of th' approaching Sun (that Universal Adjutant of Generation) find themselves pleasantly instigated to their duty of Propagation; then, without any other impulse, or direction, but that of natural instinct, they dextrously, and as it were with counsel and deliberation, address themselves chiefly to that most delightful work. First, with a kind of cheerful Solemnity they choose, and espouse their Mates, all their Females bringing love, obsequiousness, diligence and featherbeds for their dowry. Then they seek for places convenient to reside in, and there with skill and art exceeding the proudest of humane Architecture, they build their Nests. Which are no sooner finished, than they lay their Eggs therein. Upon these in the next place they sit with admirable constancy and patience▪ until they have hatched them. And that great work done, they in fine with exemplary tenderness and care feed, cherish and protect their young, till they are able to live of themselves. Now here, you see, is a multiplicity of actions regularly and with design done in order to one grand scope, or end: such as cannot possibly proceed from simple impressions of external objects. 'Twere easy for me here to invite you to reflect on the admirable Republics of Bees and Pismires, in which all the constitutions of a most perfect Government are exemplified: yet without written laws or promulgation of Right: but the former example is sufficient. I conclude then, that since in all these, the affairs or businesses of Brutes are managed and administered always after one and the same manner, without any variety: that is a convincing argument, that the enterprises and works of Brutes of this sort, are excited neither by external objects, whose impulse is ever various; nor by any internal purpose of mind, which is more mutable than the wind; but by a principle more certain and fixed, and always determined to one thing; which can be nothing else but Natural instinct.  
And how far the power and influence of this instinct may extend toward the excitation of the various Passions to which the Sensitive Soul is of her own nature subject and prone; will appear more clearly from our subsequent Enquiry into their proper causes and motions: to which I now hasten; having thus long detained you in hearing what seems to me most probable and consentaneous to reason, concerning the substance, original, proprieties and faculties of the Sensitive Soul, common to Man with Brutes. Which was my first Preliminary.   

SECT. III. Of the Nature Origin, and principal Seat of the Rational Soul in Man.  

Art. 1. The Excellency of a Rational Soul.  HOw near so ever Brute Beasts may be allowed to approach to the Divine faculty of Reason, or Discourse: yet most certain it is, no one of them hath ever been observed to attain thereunto. For, if we with all favour and partiality imaginable, examine the Effects of either their innate, or acquired Knowledge, or of both conjoined, and improved into Habits by long practice and experience: yet in the end we shall be forced to confess, that even the most intricate, and most cunning of all their actions, come far short of those that are ordinarily done by Man, by virtue of the Reasonable Soul, wherewith he is by the immense bounty of his Creator, endowed.  
This is a Verity so obvious to every Man of common sense and understanding▪ so evident by its own splendour; that it needs neither Arguments drawn from reason to establish, nor Examples drawn from frequent observations to illustrate it: especially now after the many excellent discourses thereupon written by Learned Men of almost all ages, all nations, all professions. It being therefore unnecessary for me by prolix reasoning to evince, and superfluous by multiplicity of instances to elucidate the vast disparity betwixt the proper Acts and Operations of a Reasonable Soul, and those inferior ones of a Sensitive: I shall only in brief, and analytically recount to you a few of those many Excellencies and Prerogatives essential to the former, and by the law of nature incommunicable to the later.  
The Preeminence then of Man's Reasonable Soul is undeniably manifest from both her Objects, and her Acts.  
Her Objects are all things whatsoever, 
Art. 2. Manifest from her proper Objects.  true or false, real or imaginary, within or without the World, sensible or insensible, infinite or finite: for, to all these can she extend her unconfined power of speculation. I doubt indeed, whether it be possible for her in this life, while she is obliged to speculate all things by the help of images, or corporeal representations, to have an adequate, and full cognition of the superexcellent nature of God: but yet it cannot be denied, that she is capable of knowing for certain, that there is such an incomprehensible Being as God, and that He is infinite and Eternal. I doubt also, whether the mind of Man be capable of any true notion of an Angel, Spirit, Daemon or other the like Being's which the Schools commonly (how intelligibly, let others dispute) call immaterial Substances; because I myself can represent to my thoughts nothing but under some certain figure and quantity, which are inseparable from body: and yet who dares deny th' Existence of such Being's in the World? To speculate such objects then, as fall not under the perception of any of the senses, is the prerogative of a Rational Soul: nor can a Sensitive possibly have any knowledge of things above the sphere of her own nature; all her faculties being corporeal, and by consequence limited to corporeal objects, and those too no other than what are perceptible by the senses.  

Art. 3. And Acts.  Her Acts also equally declare her transcendent Powers. That act of simple apprehension, which in Brutus' is Imagination, is in Man Intellection: and the intellect presides over imagination, discerning the Errors of it occasioned by the senses, and correcting them; yea subliming the notions thereof into true and useful ones. And as for forming of Propositions, by compounding or dividing the simple notions of sensible things; that power is indeed common to the Sensitive Soul also, and usualy exercised by her, when an image of some object newly admitted, meets with one or more images either f●●merly stored up in the Memory, or at that instant suggested by natural instinct; and is found associable, or repugnant to them: but yet the same falls incomparably short of that which belongs to the Human Intellect. Which doth not only review all propositions conceived from the fantasy; but judges also whether they be true or false, congruous or incongruous; and then orders and disposes them accordingly into trains of notions convenient either to Speculation, or to practice. Moreover, it restrains the fantasy, of itself instable and prone to ramble through various phantasms; calls it away from extravagant and useless conceptions, directs it to others more conform to reason, and at pleasure confines it within certain bounds, that it may not divert, or range too wide from the purpose. All which Acts give clear evidence, that there is in Man a Soul superior to the sensitive, and which moderates and governs all the faculties and operations of it: yea, more yet, which from representations sensible deduces many other notions of things altogether unknown to sense, and which the fantasy is of itself wholly incapable to imagine. For, it understands Axioms, or first principles, and that by its own power alone, without recourse to corporeal species: and (what is yet more noble and sublime) by a reflex act views itself, thinks that it thinks, from thence certainly knowing its ' own Existence, which cannot be either perceived by sense, or imagined by fantasy. Whereas neither the Sense, nor Imagination (for of these there are no images extant) can perceive that they perceive, or imagine. To these royal prerogatives of Man's Rational Soul, let us subjoin the native right she hath to the whole Encyclopaedia or Zodiac of Arts and Sciences; Theology, Logic, Physic, Metaphysics, Mathematics, Algebra, Geometry, Astronomy, Mechanics: which being all (Theology alone excepted) the products or creatures of Man's Mind, sufficiently attest their Author to be an Agent Spiritual, admirably intelligent, immaterial, and therefore immortal.  
Now if this be true (as most certainly it is) than one of these two Assumptions must be so too. Either the Rational Soul of man doth alone perform all offices not only of Understanding and discourse, but of sense also, and life; and so administer the whole oeconony of Human nature. Or else there are in every individual Man two distinct Souls conjoined, and acting together: one, only Rational; t'other merely Sensitive; that as Queen regent, this as inferior and subordinate.  
The FIRST seems to me not a little improbable. 
Art. 4▪ Life and Sense depend not on the the Rational Soul of man.   
For, (1) all acts of the Senses, and animal Motions, as likewise the Passions, are corporeal, divided and extended, to various parts: and therefore the Rational Soul, which we conceive to be incorporeal, indivisible and finite, seems incapable to cause or impress those motions immediately, or by herself. To me (I confess) it seems Unintelligible, how an incorporeal Agent, not infinite, can physically act in, and upon a gross body immediately, or without the intervention of a third thing; which though corporeal too, is yet notwithstanding of parts so spirituous, and of a constitution so subtle, as to approach somewhat nearer to the nature of a pure Spirit, than solid and ponderous body doth. Flame, and light I acknowledge to be bodies; but yet methinks there is less of disproportion, or disparity betwixt them and a substance purely spiritual, than is betwixt a pure Spirit and a gross, heavy body, such as ours is. And therefore in my weak judgement, it is more conceivable that the Reasonable Soul should have some spirituous, and subtle thing as flame, or light is, viz. the Sensitive Soul, conjoined with her, to be a convenient Medium betwixt herself and the gross body, to receive her immediate influence, and actuate the body according to her will and pleasure: than it is, that she should immediately move and actuate the body, betwixt whose nature and her own there is great disparity.  
(2) As for that nice and amusing doctrine of the Schoolmen▪ that in Man the Sensitive Soul is eminently contained in, and (to use their very term) as it were absorbed by the Rational; so that what is a Soul in Brutes, becomes a mere Power or quality in Man: this I think (as many other of their superfine distinctions do) sounds like nothing put into hard words. For, how can it be imagined possible, the eternal law of nature should be so far violated, as that a substance should be changed into an accident? that the Sensitive Soul which is Corporeal and extense, and which they themselves allow to be actually existent in the body, before the infusion of the Rational; should upon accession of the Rational, lose its former essence, and degenerate into a naked Quality? This is (I profess) a Mystery much above my comprehension.  
(3) If it be affirmed, that the Rational Soul doth, at her entrance into the body, introduce life also, and sense; and so there is no need of any other principle of life and sense, where she is: then must it be granted, that Man doth not generate a Man animated, or endowed with life and sense; but only an inform body, or rude mass of flesh. And how absurd that would be, I leave to your judgement.  
These Reasons discovering the improbability of the first Assumption; 
Art. 5. And therefore he 〈◊〉 to have also a Sensitive Soul.  what can remain to hinder us from embracing the OTHER, viz. that there are in every individual Man, two distinct Souls, coexistent, and conjoined; one by which he is made a Reasonable creature, another by which he becomes also a living, and Sensitive one? Especially since the truth of this seems sufficiently evident even from that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or civil war too frequently happening betwixt these twins, which every Man sometimes feels in his own breast, and whereof the holy Apostle himself so sadly complained. For, this intestine War, seeing it cannot arise from one and the same thing possessed with affections mutually repugnant, and inclining us two contrary ways at once; argues a Duumvirate of Rulers reciprocaly clashing, and contending for superiority; and such too that are as remote in their natures, as different in the modes of their subsistence.  

Art. 6. That there are in every individual Man two distinct Souls coexistent, argued from the civil war observed betwixt them.  Upon this War depend all the Passions by which the restless Mind of Man is so variously, and many times also violently agitated, to his almost perpetual disquiet and vexation: and upon the success of it depends all the happiness, or misery of not only his present life, but that which is to come. To inquire therefore awhile into the grounds and reasons of this fatal discord; will be neither loss of time, nor digression from our purpose.  

Art. 7. The Causes of that war.  That Man than is endowed, as with two distinct faculties of Knowing, viz. Understanding, and Imagination; that proper to his Rational, this to his Sensitive soul: so likewise with a twofold Appetite, viz. Will, which proceeding from his Intellect, is immediate attendant of the Rational soul; and appetite Sensitive, which cohering to the Imagination, is as it were the factor or procurer to the Corporeal Soul: is the common doctrine of Plato and Aristotle, to this day read and asserted in the Schools; nor ought it to be rejected. But than it must not be so understood, as if the Rational soul herself, which seems to be immaterial, and consequently exempt from passion, were upon every appulse of good or evil objects, subject to all the turbulent affections of desire or aversation: for, this would be manifestly repugnant to the excellency of her spiritual nature, and inconsistent with her dignity and superintendency over the inferior powers. Affections she hath indeed of her own, such as are competent and proper to her semidivine Essence. It is not to be doubted, but that in the contemplation of true and good, and chiefly of what is supremely both true and good, the Deity; as likewise in works of beneficence, in the cognition of things by their causes, in the exercises of her habits aswell the contemplative, as the practical; and in all other her proper acts, the Reasonable Soul feels in herself a very great Complacency: as on the contrary, the want of these doth affect her with as great Displeasure. Nor is it to be doubted, but our love of God, and all other real goods; and our detestation of vices and vicious Men; as also all other pure and simple affects arising and continuing without perturbation or disquiet: belong only to the Reasonable Soul, which (to use the elegant simile of Plato) seated in a higher sphere of impassibility, like the top of mount Olympus, enjoys perpetual serenity: looking down the while upon all tumults, commotions and disorders happening in the inferior part of man; as that doth upon the clouds, winds, thunders and other tempests raised in the air below it. But as for all vehement affections, or perturbations of the Mind, by which it is usualy commoved, and inclined to this or that side, for prosecution of good, or avoidance of evil: these certainly aught all to be ascribed to the Corporeal Soul; and seem to have their original in the seat of th' Imagination, probably the middle of the brain. Nevertheless, for that the Intellect, as it reviews all Phantasms form by imagination, and at pleasure regulates and disposes them; so it not only perceives all concupiscences, and tempests of passions used to be stirred up in the imagination, but also (while it freely exerciseth its native power and jurisdiction) moderates, governs, and gives law to them: for these reasons, when the Rational Soul approves some, and rejects others; raiseth some, and composes others of those passions, and directs them to right ends; she may also be said, by such her dictates, to exercise acts of Will, as Arbiter, and to will or nill those things, which the Sensitive Appetite desires or abhors by her permission or command.  
But yet this empire of the Rational Soul is not so absolute over the Sensitive, 
Art. 8. wherein sometimes the Sensitive appetite prevails.  when this proceeds to Appetite, as when it is employed about the discernment and Knowledge of sensible objects. For, the Sensitive being much nearer allied to the body, and immediate Guardian thereof; is by that affinity and relation obliged to addict itself altogether to the gratification, welfare and conservation of the same. And that this province may be more grateful and agreeable to so delicate a Governess, she is continually courted and presented by all the Senses with variety of blandishments and tempting delights. So that charmed by those powerful enchantments of sensible objects, and entirely taken up with care of the body, and in that respect prone to pursue pleasures: she too often proves deaf to the voice of Reason advising the contrary, and refuses to be diverted from her sensual to nobler affections.  
Yea sometimes grown weary of subjection, she takes occasion to cast off her yoke of allegiance, and like a proud and insolent Rebel, aspires to unbounded licence and dominion. And then, than it is we feel those Twins struggling within us, that intestine war betwixt the Flesh and the Spirit, that dire conflict of the Sensitive Appetite with Reason; which distracts one Man into two Duelists, and which ceaseth not, till one of the Combatants hath overcome and brought the other to submission. And (what is yet more deplorable) the event of this combat is often so unhappy, that the nobler part is subdued and led captive by the ignoble: the forces of sensual allurements then proving too strong for all the guards of Reason, though assisted by the auxiliary troops of Moral precepts, and the sacred institutes of Religion. When the divine Polity of the Rational Soul being subverted, the whole unhappy man is furiously carried away to serve the brutish lusts of the insolent usurper, and augment the triumphs of libidinous carnality: which degrades him from the dignity of his nature, and cassating all his royal prerogatives, debases him to a parity with beasts, if not below them; for, Reason once debauched so as to become brutal, leads to all sorts of excess; whereof beasts are seldom guilty.  
Yet this is not always the issue of the war. 
Art. 9 And sometimes the Rational.  Sometimes it happens that the victory falls to the right side; and the Princess overpowering the Rebel, reduces her to due submission and conformity. Nay sometimes Reason, after she hath been long held captive, breaks off her fetters; and remembering her native Sovereignty, grows conscious and ashamed of her former lapses: and thereupon with fresh courage and vigour renewing the conflict, vanquishes and deposes the Sensitive Soul with all its legions of lusts, and gloriously re-establishes herself in the throne. Yea more, at once to secure her empire for the future, and expiate the faults of her maladministration in times past; she by bitter remorse, severe contrition, and sharp penance, punishes herself, and humbles her traitorous enemy the Flesh. And as the war itself, so this act of Conscience, this self-chastising affection, being proper to Man alone; doth clearly show, that in Man there are either two Souls, one Subordinate to the other; or two parts of the same Soul, one opposing the other, and contending about the government of him and his affections. But which of these two consequents is most likely to be true, you may have already collected from my discourse precedent.  
It remains then, that I give you some account of the Opinions, or rather Conjectures of Men (for they can be no other) which seem to me most probable, concerning the Origin of the Reasonable Soul; concerning the principle seat of it in the body; concerning its connexion with the Sensitive Soul; and concerning the manner of its Understanding.  

Art 10. That the Rational Soul is created▪ immediately by God.  For the First; if the Rational Soul be a pure Spirit. i e. a simple or incompound substance; as I have already shown her proper acts, affections and objects seem to infer, and as most wise men, ancient and modern, Ethnics and Christians, Philosophers and Theologues have unanimously held her to be: and if it seem inconsistent with the purity and simplicity of such a Being, to be generated by the Parents, who are compound Being's, as reason teacheth us it is: granting this, I say, nothing can remain to divorce me from that common opinion which holds, that she is created immediately by God, and infused into the body of a human Embryon, so soon as that is organised, form and prepared to receive her.  
For, as to that grand Objection, 
Art. 11. The resemblance betwixt Father and Son, imputed to the Sensitive Soul.  that the Son oftentimes most exactly resembles the Father, not only in temperament, shape, stature, features and all other things discernible in the body; but in disposition also, wit, affections, and the rest of the Animal faculties: and therefore it must needs be, that the Father begets the Rational Soul, as well as the body: it is easy to detect the weakness thereof, in the violence of the illation. Since all those endowments and faculties wherein the chief similitude doth consist, proceed immediately from the Corporeal Soul, which I grant to be indeed Ex traduce, or propagated by the Father; but not the Rational, which is of Divine Original.  
For the Second, 
Art. 12. The Rational Soul seated in that part of the brain which serves to Imagination.  viz. the Rational Souls chief seat or Mansion in the body, though I cannot conceive how, or in what manner an immaterial can reside in a material, because I can have no representation or idea in my mind of any such thing: yet nevertheless when I consider that all impressions of sensible objects, whereof we are any ways conscious, are carried immediately to the Imagination; and that there likewise all Appetites, or spontaneous conceptions and intentions of actions are excited: I am very apt to judge the Imagination to be the Escurial, or imperial palace of the Rational Soul, where she may most conveniently both receive all intelligences, from her Emissaries the senses, and give forth orders for government of the whole state of Man. That the whole Corporeal soul should be possessed by the Rational, seems neither competent to her Spiritual nature, which is above Extensibility; nor necessary to her Empire over all: no more than it is necessary for a King to be present in all parts of his dominions at the same time. And if she be as it were enthroned in any one part thereof; what part so convenient, so advantageous as the fantasy, where she may immediately be informed of all occurrents in the whole body, and whence she may issue forth mandates for all she would have done by the whole or any member thereof? I think therefore, I may affirm it to be probable, that this Queen of the Isle of Man hath her Court, and Tribunal in the noblest part of the Sensitive Soul, the Imagination, made up of a select assembly of the most subtle Spirits Animal, and placed in the middle of the Brain. As for the Conarion, or Glandula pinealis seated near the centre of the brain, wherein Monsieur Des Cartes took such pains to lodge this Celestial guest; all our most curious Anatomists will demonstrate that Glandule to be ordained for another, and that a far less noble use, which here I need not mention.  
For the Third, to wit, 
Art. 13. And there connexed to the Sensitive by the will of her Creator.  what obligeth the Rational Soul to continue resident in the Imagination during this life; truly I cannot think either that she is capable of, or that she needs any other ligament or tye, than the infringible law of nature, or Will of her Divine Creator: who makes and destinies her to reside in the body of man, to be his Forma informans; and gives her therefore a strong inclination to inhabit that her inn or lodging: ordaining her to have a certain dependence, as to her operation, upon the fantasy, so that without the help and subserviency thereof, she can know or understand little, or nothing at all. For, it is from the Imagination alone that she takes all the representations of things, and the fundamental ideas, upon which she afterward builds up all her Science, all her wisdom. And therefore though the Mind of one man understands more, and reasoneth better than another; it doth not thence follow, that their Rational Souls are unequal in their natural capacity of understanding and discourse: because the disparity proceeds immediately from difference of Imagination, mediately and principally from the various dispositions of the Brain. For, when the Animal Spirits, being either of themselves less pure, subtle and active than is requisite, or hindered in their expansion and motions, are not able duly to irradiate and actuate the Brain affected with some distemper, or originally form amiss: in such case, the Phatasms created in the Imagination, must be either deficient, or distorted; and the Intellect being obliged to judge of them accordingly, must be misinformed. Hence it often happens, that by reason of some wound, contusion, or other great hurt done to the brain, men who formerly were of acute wit, and excellent understanding, are more or less deprived of those noble Faculties, and degenerate into mere fools or idiots. For, the acquiring, and loseing the habit of intellection and ratiocination, depends totally upon the Brain and Imagination, the corporeal subject thereof: but the Intellect itself, since it hath no parts, cannot be perfected by parts; being from the beginning, and of its own nature, a full and perfect power of Understanding. Nor doth it, by accession of any whatever Habit, understand more: but is itself rather a Habit always comparated to understand. And in truth the principal Function of the human Intellect seems to be this, that it be of its own nature merely intelligent, that is knowing things, not by ratiocination, but by simple intuition. But during its confinement within the body, it is surrounded with that darkness, that it doth not simply, nakedly, and as it were by way of intuition perceive all things which it understands; but attains to most of its knowledge by reasoning, that is, successively, and by proceeding as it were by degrees. If therefore the Organ or instrument, by the help of which the Intellect is obliged to ratiocinate, or gradualy to attain to the knowledge of things, be unfit, or out of tune: no wonder if it be not able to make good Music thereupon.  
Concerning the Fourth and last thing therefore, 
Art. 14. Where how she exerciseth her faculty of judging of the images of things form in the Imagination, seems to be inexplicable.  namely the Manner how this Unintelligible Intellect of man comes to know, speculate and judge of all Phantasms or images portrayed in the Imagination: I can much more easily guests what it is not, than what it is. I am not inclined to espouse their conceit, who tell us, that the Rational Soul sitting in the brain, somewhere near the original of the nerves belonging to the Senses (as a Spider sits watching in the centre of her net) and feeling all strokes made upon them by the Species of sensible objects, distinguishes and judges of their several qualities and proprieties, by the different modes of their impressions. Because, the supposition of a percussion, or stroke to be made by a Corporeal image, is manifestly repugnant to a Faculty incorporeal. But whether or no I ought to acquiesce in that other opinion delivered, and maintained by a whole army of Contemplative men, viz. That the Intellect knows and discerns things by simple Intuition, i.e. by beholding their Images represented in the fantasy, as we see our faces represented in a mirror or looking-glass: truly I am yet to learn from wiser heads than mine. For, though I admire the subtlety of the conceit, and love not to be immodestly Sceptical, especially in matters that transcend my narrow comprehension: yet, to speak ingenuously, I as little understand how Intuition can be ascribed to an immaterial, that hath no Eyes; as I do how Feeling of strokes can be ascribed to a thing that cannot be touched. Nevertheless I will not point blank deny this latter opinion to be true, only because I cannot perceive the Competency of such an act as intuition to the incorporeal Soul of man: for, that were to make my scanty reason the measure of truth; and to confide more in my own dulness, than in the admired perspicacity of so many eminent Wits preceding me. Wherefore having confessed my ignorance, I refer the matter to your arbitration: allowing you as much time as you shall think fit, seriously to consider the same; and in the interim contentedly suspending my curiosity, which hath too often perplexed me. For, hitherto could I never drive it into my head, how those terms of infusion, connexion and intuition can be intelligibly applied to a spiritual, or incompound essence, such as we conceive the Reasonable Soul to be: and if I have used them in this discourse, it was rather because I could think of none less improper, than because I approved them as adequate to the notions to which they are vulgarly accommodated. Besides, I hold it extremely difficult, not to speak some nonsense, when we adventure to treat of the nature of spirits, whereof we understand so little: and you (I presume) will rather pity, than condemn a man for stumbling in the dark. But I have too long detained you upon Preliminaries: and therefore deprecating your impatience, invite you now from the porch into the little Theatre of the Passions, which I designed to erect more for your divertisement, than study.   

SECT. IV. Of the Passions of the Mind in general.  
TAking it for granted then, from the reason's precedent, that in Man, besides the Rational Soul, by which he becomes a Reasonable creature, there is also a Sensitive one, by which he is made a living and sensitive creature; and that this later being merely Corporeal, and coextens to the body it animates, is by the law of its nature subject to various Mutations: I come in the next place to consider what are the most remarkable of those Mutations, and the Causes whence they usually arise; as likewise the principal effects of them upon the body and mind of man.  

Art. 1▪ A twofold state of the Sensitive Soul. viz. of tranquillity.  Obvious it is to every man's notice, that there is a twofold state or condition of his Sensitive Soul; one of quiet and tranquillity; another of disquiet and perturbation: every man living finding his spirit sometimes calm and serene, sometimes agitated and ruffled more or less by the winds and tempests of passions raised within him.  
In the state of Tranquillity, it seems probable that the whole Corporeal Soul being coextens to the whole body inshrining it (as the body is to the skin envesting it) doth at the same time both inliven all parts with the vital flame of the blood, to that end carried in a perpetual round (as the vulgar conceive the Sun to be uncessantly moved round about the Earth, to illuminate and warm all parts of it) and irradiate and invigorate them with a continual supply of Animal spirits, for the offices of Sense and Motion. And this Halcyon state certainly is the only fair weather we enjoy within the region of our breast, and the best part of human life.  
On the contrary, 
Art. 2. And Perturbation.  in the state of Perturbation, all that excellent Oeconomy is more or less discomposed. Then it seems that the same frail soul is so strongly shocked and commoved, that not only her vital part, the blood, the calm and equal circulation being interrupted, is forced to undergo irregular floods and ebbs, and other violent fluctuations; but the Animal spirits also, impelled to and fro in a tumultuous manner, cause great disorders in the functions of sense and motion; yea more, by their exorbitant manner of influx into the nerves of the Heart and Lungs, they move them irregularly, and so contribute to render the course of the blood yet more unequal. Nor doth the tempest stop here; it extends sometimes also to other Humours of the body, to the solid parts and members of it, and even to the discomposure of the Reasonable Soul herself.  
The Tranquillity of the Sensitive Soul is easily observable in sleep, 
Art. 3. The first, most observable in sleep, and when objects appear indifferent.  when the spirits are bound up, or at least at rest; and very often also when we are awake, namely whensoever the objects affecting the sense, or created in the imagination, appear to import neither good, nor evil to us, and we are no further concerned than barely to apprehend and know them. For, than they smoothly and calmly slide into the common sensory and imagination, and soon pass away without any the least disquiet or commotion of the appetite.  

Art. 4. The other, manifest in all Passion.  The Perturbation of it is as easily manifest in all the passions, which are the consequents of desire, or of aversation. For, when any object is represented under the appearance of good or evil to us in particular; instantly the Sensitive Soul is moved to embrace, or avoid it; and employs not only the Animal Spirits, her Emissaries, but the blood also, and other humours universally diffused through the body, and even the solid parts too, as instruments to effect her design. More plainly; when the Imagination conceives any thing to be embraced as good, or avoided as evil; presently by the spirits residing in the brain, and ranged as it were into order, the Appetite is form: and then the impression being transmitted to the Heart, according as that is contracted or dilated, the blood is impelled and forced to various fluctuations, and irregular motions: and thence the Appetite being by instinct transmitted to the nerves ordained for that use, they cause motions of the solid parts respective thereunto. And this we may conjecture to be the order of motions excited successively in the fantasy, spirits, blood and solid parts, in every Passion of the mind of what sort soever. Nor can it indeed sink into my dull head, by what other means of mutual intercourse, besides such a quick transmission of spirits first from the brain into the Praecordia, and thence back again to the brain, by nerves to that end extended betwixt those sources of life and sense, the great and speedy commerce in all passions observed to be maintained between them, can be effected.  

Art. 5. That in the state of Perturbation, the Sensitive Soul vanlith her Gestures, by Contraction or Expansion.  But however this admirable Commerce may be otherwise explained, it is lawful for us us to conceive, that the Sensitive Soul, when put into this state of perturbation, doth strangely vary her Postures, according to the diversity of motions caused in her: and though that diversity be very great, yet that in all perturbations whatever, she is more or less amplified, so as to swell beyond her ordinary bounds; or more or less contracted within herself, so as to be less extense or diffused, than usually she is at other times, in her state of tranquillity: as will be exemplified in all the passions we design particularly to describe. Mean while it is observable, that sometimes she being affected with joy, or pride, and as it were exulting above measure, doth advance and expand herself, as if she strove to be greater, and to stretch her grandeur beyond the narrow limits of the body. Whereupon the Animal Spirits being respectively commoved in the brain, enlarge the sphere of their irradiation, and by a more abundant influx vigorously agitate the Praecordia or vital parts, so forcing the blood to flow more copiously into all parts, and to diffuse itself more freely and speedily through the whole body. On the contrary, sometimes being surprised with grief, or fear, she contracts herself into a narrower compass; so that shrunk up to a scantling less than her usual circuit of emanation, she becomes of too small a size vigorously to actuate the body as she ought. Whence the Animal faculties drooping as it were, perform their actions either slowly and weakly, or perversely: and the Praecordia wanting their due influx of spirits, almost flag, suffering the blood to remain in their conduits longer than it ought, even to danger of stagnation, and consequently of sudden death. These two contrary Motions therefore of Contraction and Expansion, I suppose to be the two General ones, to which all the various Postures of the Sensitive Soul, when she is perturbed, may be commodiously referred: it seeming to me, considering her to be exactly like a Flame, and obnoxious to the like accidental mutations, that she is not naturally capable of other besides these; and that how great soever the variety of such her Mutations may be in the vast diversity of Passions, yet they are all but several degrees, 
Art. 6. We are not moved to Passion, by Good or Evil, but only when we conceive the same to concern ourselves in particular.  and divers modes of either her Extension, or Contraction.  
This being then supposed, I proceed to the first and General Causes of all Passions. Where I observe first, (what was only hinted a little afore) that it is not the simple representation of good or evil in any object, how great soever it be, that is sufficient to raise Commotion in the sensitive Soul; for, we usualy without perturbation behold the prosperous or adverse events befalling other Men no ways related to us: and therefore it is further required to the moving our affections, that the good or evil apprehended, be by us conceived to concern ourselves in particular, or our Friends at least, and near relations, who in this case are part of ourselves. Secondly, that even that good or evil wherein a Man conceives himself to be concerned, is not always apprehended by him under one and the same ration or aspect; but variously, aswell in respect of the object itself, as of the Subject to which it doth more peculiarly and immediately appertain. Of the divers rations under which one and the same object, good or evil, may be apprehended by one and the same Man, respectively to the various circumstances thereof; we shall more opportunely speak anon. And as for those that respect the Subject, or Man apprehending; it is worthy our serious remark;  

Art. 7. All Passions distinguished into Physical, Metaphysical, and Moral.  That all Good or Evil represented to Man, doth concern the Sensitive Soul, either as she is distinct from the body, and abstract from all relation; or as she is intimately conjoined to the body, and interressed therein; or finally as she is subordinate to the Rational Soul. For, though every Affect or Passion be founded in the Corporeal Soul, yet it always respects the good or evil of one or other of these three subjects, and is first raised on the behalf of this, that, or the other. Wherefore according to this triple relation of the Sensitive Soul, all Passions incident thereto; may be said to be either Physical, or Metaphysical, or Moral: of which in their order.  
1. Passions merely Physical, 
Art. 8. What are passions Physical.  or which properly belong to the Sensitive Soul alone, are those natural and occult inclinations and aversations commonly called Sympathies and Antipathies, whereby one Man, more than another, is not only disposed, but even by secret impuls forced to affect, or dislike such or such a person, or thing, without any manifest cause or inducement so to do. Of Sympathies betwixt Persons there is great variety of Examples, especially in Lovers; among whom many are not alured by that grand bait of the Sensitive Soul, Beauty; but strongly attracted, and as it were fascinated by they know not what hidden Congruity or (as the French call it) agreeableness of Spirits: which enchains them so firmly to the persons beloved, that notwithstanding the deformities they see and acknowledge to be in them, yea and the contempt they sometimes receive from them, they still dote upon, and with delightful submissions court and adore them. And as for Antipathies as well toward Persons as things; instances of them also are without number, and many show themselves at our very table. Where one Man abhors a breast of Mutton, yet loves the Shoulder cut from it; a second swoons at the sight of Eels, and yet will feast upon Lampreys or conger's; a third abominates Cheese, but is pleased with Milk; a fourth devests roasted Pigg, yet can make a meal upon bacon. This Man sweats at presence of a Cat; that falls into an agony by casting his eye upon a Frogg or Toad; an other can never be reconciled to Oysters. Nay more, there are who feel themselves ready to faint, if a Cat be hidden in some secret place of the room wherein they are, though they suspect no such encounter of their natural enemy, till they are wounded with the invisible darts or emanations from her body. And all these admirable Effects proceed not from any positive Evil or malignity in the things abhorred; for, what's one Man's meat, is an others poison: but only from their incongruity, or occult Enmity to this, or that particular Sensitive Soul. For if at any time it happens, that the consistence of Animal Spirits that constitute the lucid or Sensitive part of this Soul, be by the encounter of any object, put into great disorder: she ever after abhors the approach, or eff●luvia of the same. Whereas the Congruity of particles proceeding from an object, to the contexture of the Soul, is on the contrary the ground of all her secret Amity's.  
2. Passions Metaphysical, 
Art. 9 What Metaphysical.  or which seem to have their first rise from, and principally to relate to the Rational Soul, are those which Divines call devout and religious Affections directed to objects Supernatural, and chiefly to God. For, when our nobler Soul reflecting upon the excellency and immortality of her nature, aspires by sublime speculations toward her supreme felicity, the contemplation and love of her Creator; and determines her Will to pursue that incomprehensible, because infinite subject of all perfections, which alone can satisfy her understanding with light or knowledge, and her will with love: she doth not only exercise herself in simple and abstracted conceptions, such as are proper to her immaterial essence alone, and conformable to the dignity of the thing she speculates; but communicates her affects also to the Sensitive Soul, by whose subordinate motions she is obliged to act respectively to her end. And these motions or acts being thus traduced from the superior to the inferior Soul, and thence derived first to the brain and imagination, then to the heart; produce therein, and so in the blood, the various motions that constitute such Passions, as we observe in ourselves, when we are most ardently urged to acts of devotion and piety toward the supreme Being. Whence it is doubtless, that Divine love, detestation of sin, repentance, hope of Salvation, fear of incensing Divine justice, and most, if not all other acts (or passions) of devotion are commonly ascribed to the heart: and that not without some reason. For, though I cannot admit the heart to be the Seat of the Passions, as the Aristoteleans unanimously hold it to be, only because of the sensible alterations therein produced in most passions: since in truth those alterations are rather consequents, than causes of Passions; and since they are not felt by us as in the heart, but only by means of the nerves descending thither from the brain; as pain is not felt as in the foot, but by intervention of nerves betwixt the foot and the brain; and as the stars appear to us as in heaven, by mediation of their light affecting our Optic nerves. So that it is no more necessary the Soul should exercise her functions, or receive her passions immediately in the heart, only because she feels her passions therein; than it is she should be in heaven, because she sees the stars to be there; or in the foot, because pain appears to her to be there. Notwithstanding this I say, yet the adscription of these devout Passions to the heart, is not altogether destitute of reason. For, (for instance) when the inferior Soul is commanded by the Superior, to humble, and as it were to prostrate▪ herself in adoration of the sacred Majesty of God; instantly both parts thereof, as well the Sensitive, as the Vital, are forced to repress and restrain their wont emanations or effusions. Whereupon the Animal Spirits being in whole legions withdrawn from minis tring to the Imagination and Senses, are by the nerves transmitted in crowds to the heart: which while they closely contract and shut, they cause the blood to remain longer than is usual, in the cavities thereof, and by that means keep it both from being too much kindled in the Lungs, and from being sent from the heart in too great abundance into the rest of the body, and more especially into the brain; as if Nature itself had instituted, that in sacred passions the blood, or principal seat of life, should be offered up to the Author of life, upon the altar of the heart, while the brain, or seat of reason, is kept serene and clear. Nor is it difficult to a man praying to Almighty God with fervency of Spirit, to observe in himself, that his blood is more and more arrested and detained within his breast the while; insomuch that his heart seems to swell, his lungs to be oppressed, and he is forced frequently to interrupt his orisons with profound sighs, for attraction of fresh aer: as if the reasonable Soul not content to devote herself alone, and pour forth her holy desires to God, laboured to make a libation also of the vital blood, for a propitiatory oblation. So that though the Soul cannot in strictness of truth be said to receive her passions in the heart; yet since the alterations caused in us by them, are greater and more sensible in the heart, and consequently in the blood, than in any other part of the whole body beside: I am not so addicted to vitilitigation, as to contend about the propriety of those expressions in scripture, which seem to ascribe all our sacred passions principally to the heart.  
3. And as for Passions Moral; I refer to their classis all those that are excited in the Sensitive Soul, 
Art. 10. And what Moral.  upon her perception of such good or evil objects as concern her confederate the Body, with which she is most intimately conjoined, and upon whose welfare her safety doth necessarily depend. Concerning these in general, it is remarkable; that though the Sensitive Soul hath secret loves and aversations of her own, commonly called (as we have already said) Sympathies and Antipathies; and though she owes obedience to the commands and dictates of her superior, the Rational Soul: yet being by so strict a ligue, and as it were a conjugal union affianced to the body, she is strongly inclined to prefer the conservation of that her favourite, to all other relations; and accordingly to gratify and indulge it even in those things that are prohibited by religion and reason. So that no wonder if she be affected with pleasure, or pain, and with all other passions referible to them, for the prosperous or adverse state of the body.  
To make this our entrance into the springhead of all Passions somewhat more lightsome; we are here to recount two fundamental verities, both of so conspicuous evidence, I do not remember, I ever heard them contradicted.  

Art. 11. All Passions referred to Pleasure or Pain.  One is, that all Affects which external objects can possibly excite in us, in respect of the various modes or manners by which they fall under our notice, may be commodiously referred to two general heads, namely Pleasure, and Pain. For, whatever is perceived by the Senses, appears to the Soul to be Good, or Evil, grateful, or offensive; and whatever is offered to her under the appearance of Good, or Grateful, instantly causeth some certain Pleasure in her: as on the contrary, whatever is represented to her as Evil, or offensive, as quickly raiseth in her some kind of Pain, or trouble: provided (as was before advertised) she apprehend herself to be any way concerned in such good, or evil. So that we cannot but applaud the judgement of Epicurus and Aristotle in constituting but two kinds of Passions, namely Pleasure and Pain: the one calling them 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, voluptatem & dolorem; the other naming them 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, voluptatem & molestiam.  
The other is, 
Art. 12. And all their Motions, to Contraction and Eff  that all the various motions of the spirits and blood, or of the Sensitive Soul, excited in the various Passions, may likewise be conveniently reduced to two general heads, namely Contractions, and Effusions; which our Master Galen, I remember, terms 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: as they are referred to Pain and Pleasure. Because in Pleasure, the Soul dilateth herself as much as she can, that is, she diffuseth the spirits, as her Emissaries, to meet and receive the good represented to her: and in Pain, she on the contrary compresseth or withdraws herself inward, that is, she recalls the spirits toward herself, in avoidance of the Evil apprehended.  
Manifest it is therefore, that all Corporeal Passions have their roots grounded in Sense, whereof pleasure and pain ●re two opposite affects: one, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, agreeable and familiar to nature; ●he other, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, alien and offensive.  
And that I may, as far as I am able, 
Art. 13. Wherein consist Pleasure and displeasure of sense.  explain wherein pleasure and displeasure of ●●nce doth consist; I take liberty to suppose, that at first when an object affects ●he Sensory with soft and smooth tou●hes, or motions, such as are consentaneous to the delicate contexture of the ●erves of which the sensory is chiefly composed, or to the internal motions of the spirits therein residing; it instantly causeth that grateful sense called delight: as on the contrary, if the object invade the sensory with asperity, or violence, such as hurts the tender nerves thereof, or hinders the natural motions of the spirits therein; than it produceth that ingrateful sense called displeasure or pain. The impression being thus made by the object upon the Organ of sense, and thence by a certain motion of the spirits resembling the waving of water, carried on to the brain; if it be pleasant, it immediately puts the spirits therein reserved, into brisker, but regular motions conformable to their nature and uses: if displeasing, it puts them into confusion. If the impression be light, the motion thereby caused in the brain, soon decayeth, and vanisheth of itself: if strong, the motion is continued from the brain down to the breast, and the heart and blood participate thereof respectively; and so passion instantly succeeds. But whether this be the true manner of objects producing pleasure, or displeasure of sense, or not, most evident it is, that we have, as no conceptions of things without us in the brain, so no passions for them in the heart, but what have their firs● original from Sense.  
Now having in this manner shown as plainly as I could (1) what Mutations are incident to the Sensitive Soul (2) what are the most considerable Causes of those Mutations (3) what the most remarkable Effects and consequents of them upon the body and mind of Man (4) the Differences of Passions respective to the various relations of the Sensitive Soul to the Rational, 
Art. 14. A rehearsal of the heads handled in this Section.  and to the body (5) that all passions are referible to pleasure, or pain (6) that all Motions of the Spirits and blood caused in passions, belong to Contraction, or Effusion: and (7) wherein consist pleasure and displeasure of Sense: our next work must be to speak   

SECT. V. Of the Passions in particular.  
NOt of all that are incident to the mind of Man, 
Art. 11. Why Men have not been able to observe all Passions incident to the Sensitive Soul.  which were extremely difficult, if not altogether impossible for me to do. For, seeing the objects that raise pleasure and displeasure are innumerable; and the various ways or manners by which they affect the sense, and excite motions in the brain, spirits and heart, are equally innumerable: even those Philosophers themselves who have with all possible attention of mind laboured to search out the several sorts of Passions, have not been able to take notice but of very few, nor to give names to all those neither. Besides, considering of how subtle particles, how fluid and easily movable a substance, and how delicate a contexture the Sensitive Soul seems to be composed; we may soon conceive her to be subject to greater variety of impressions, commotions, fluctuations, inclinations, alterations and perturbations, than can possibly be observed and distinguished even by the most curious. It may well suffice then to enumerate and describe the most remarkable of her Passions, such as like so many lesser streams, flow from the two general fountains before mentioned, Pleasure and Displeasure of sense, or motions begun in the sensory, traduced to the brain, and continued to the heart; and that are of a more simple nature.  

Art. 2. The Passions best distinguished by having respect to the circumstances of Time.  Which that we may perform with more of order, and less of obscurity; we are to consider, that the Passions receiving their most notable diversity from certain circumstances of Time, may therefore be most intelligibly distinguished by having respect to the same Circumstances. For, since there are of Conceptions three sorts, whereof one is of that which is present, which is sense; another, of that which is past, which is Remembrance; and the third, of that which is to come, which is called Expectation: it is manifestly necessary, that the condition of the pleasure, or displeasure consequent to conceptions, be diversified, according as the Good or Evil thereby proposed to the Soul, is present, or absent. For, we are pleased, or displeased even at things past; because the Memory reviving and reviewing their images, sets them before the Soul as present, and she is affected with them no less than if the things themselves were present. So also of things future; forasmuch as the Soul by a certain providence preoccupying the images of things that she conceives to come, looks upon them as realy present, and is accordingly pleased or displeased by Anticipation: every conception being pleasure, or displeasure present. This being presupposed we proceed to the Genealogy of the passions.  
When the image of any new and strange object is presented to the Soul, 
Art. 3. Admiration.  and gives her hope of knowing somewhat that she knew not before; instantly she admireth it, as different from all things she hath already known; and in the same instant entertains an appetite to know it better, which is called Curiosity or desire of Knowledge. And because this Admiration may, and most commonly is excited in the Soul before she understands, or considers whether the object be in itself convenient to her or not: therefore it seems to be the first of all passions, next after Pleasure and Pain; and to have no Contrary: because when an object perceived by the sense, hath nothing in it of new and strange; we are not at all moved thereby, but consider it indifferently, and without any commotion of the Soul. Common it is doubtless to Man with Beasts; but with this difference, that in Man it is always conjoined with Curiosity; in Beasts, not. For when a Beast seeth any thing new and strange, he considereth it so far only as to discern whether it be likely to serve his turn, or to hurt him; and acordingly approacheth nearer to it, or fleeth from it: whereas Man, who in most events remembreth in what manner they were caused and begun, looks for the cause and beginning of every thing that ariseth new to him Whence it is manifest, that all natural Philosophy, and Astronomy owe themselves to this passion: and that ignorance is not more justly reputed the mother of Admiration, than Admiration may be accounted the mother of knowledge; the degrees whereof among Men, proceed from the degrees of Curiosity. Now this Passion is reducible to delight, because Curiosity is delight: and so by consequence is Novelty too, but especially that novelty from which a Man conceiveth an opinion of bettering his own estate, whether that opinion be true or false: for in such case, he stands affected with the hope that all Gamesters have while the Cards are shuffling; as Mr Hobbs hath judiciously observed.  
Nevertheless it seems rather a calm than a tempest of the mind. For, 
Art. 4. Which causeth no commotion in the heart and blood.  in Admiration, whereby the Soul is fixed upon the contemplation of an object that appears to her new and strange, and therefore well worthy her highest consideration; the Animal spirits are indeed suddenly determined, and with great force, partly to that part of the brain, where the image is newly form, and partly to the Muscles that serve to hold the organs of the external senses in the same posture in which they then are, that so the object may be more clearly and distinctly perceived: yet in the heart and blood there happens little or no commotion or alteration at all. Whereof the reason seems to be this; that since the Soul at that time, hath for her object, not good or evil, but only the Knowledge of the thing which she admires; she converts all her power upon the brain alone, wherein all sense is performed, by the help whereof that knowledge is to be acquired. And  

Art. 5. And yet is dangerous, when immoderate.  Hence it comes, that Excess of Admiration sometimes induceth a Stupor, or Astonishment; and where it lasteth long, that wonderful disease of the brain, which Physicians name Catalepsis, whereby a Man is held stiff, motionless, and senseless, as if he were turned into a statue. For it causeth that all the Animal Spirits in the brain are so vehemently employed in contemplating and conserving the image of the object, that their usual influx into other parts of the body is wholly intercepted, nor can they by any means be diverted: whereby all members of the body are held in a rigid posture, inflexible as those of a dead carcase, or of Man killed by lightning. Of this admirable effect of excessive Admiration, Nich. Tulpius, an eminent Physician of Amsterdam, hath recorded (observ. medic. lib. 1. cap. 22.) a memorable Example in a young Man of our Nation, who violently resenting a sudden and unexpected repulse in his love, and astonished thereat, became as it were congealed in the same posture, and continued rigid in his whole body till next day. Immoderate Admiration therefore cannot but be, by fixation of the Spirits, hurtful to health.  
After admiration followeth Esteem, 
Art 6. Estimation and Contempt.  or Contempt, according as the thing appears great and worthy estimation, or of small value and contemptible. For which reason we may esteem or contemn ourselves also: from whence arise first the Passions, and consequently the Habits of Magnanimity, or Pride; and of Humility or Abjection. But if the Good that we have a great esteem of in another man, be extraordinary: then our esteem is increased to Veneration; which is the conception we have concerning another, that he hath the power to do unto us both good and hurt, but not the will to do us hurt; accompanied with an inclination of the Soul to subject ourselves to him, and by fear and reverence to purchase his favour. All which is evident in our worship or veneration of God▪  

Art. 7. Both consequents of Admiration.  That these two contrary Passions▪ Existimation and Contempt, are both consequents of Admiration; is inferrible from hence, that when we do not admire the the greatness or smallness of an object, we make neither more nor less of it than reason tells us we ought to do; so that in such case we value or despise it without being concerned therein, that is, without passion. And although it often happens, that Estimation is excited by Love, and Contempt proceeds from Hatred; yet that is not universal, nor doth it arise from any other cause but this, that we are more or less prone to consider the greatness or meanness of an object, because we more or less love it.  

Art. 8. That there is no just cause for a man to have a high value for himself but the right use of his freewill.  But though Estimation and Contempt may be referred to any objects whatsoever, yet are they then chiefly observed, when they are referred to ourselves, that is, when we put great or small value upon our own merit. And then the motions of the Spirits upon which they depend, are so discernible, that they change the very countenance, gestures, walking, and in word all the actions of those who think more haughtily or meanly of themselves than is usual. But for what may we have a high esteem of ourselves? Truly I can observe but one thing that may give us just cause of self-estimation; and that is the lawful use of our free will, and the sovereignty we exercise over our Passions. For (as the incomparable Monsieur des Cartes most wisely noteth) take away the actions dependent upon our Free will, and nothing will remain for which we can deserve to be praised or dispraised with reason: and that in truth renders us in some sort like unto God Almighty, by making us Lords of ourselves; provided we do not through carelessness and poorness of Spirit, lose the rights and power that royal prerogative of our nature conferreth upon us. Wherefore I am of the same Des Cartes his opinion, that true Generosity, which makes a Man measure his own merit by right reason, doth consist only in this; that he both knows he hath nothing truly his own, except this free disposition of his Will, nor for which he justly can be commended or blamed, but that he useth that liberty well: and finds in himself a firm and constant purpose still so to do; that is, never to want will to undertake and perform all things that he shall have judged to be the better; which is perfectly to follow Virtue.  
Whereas Pride, 
Art 9 Pride.  which is a kind of Triumph of the mind from an high Estimation of ones-self without just cause, expressed chiefly by haughty looks, ostentation in words, and insolency in action; is a Vice so unreasonable and absurd, that if there were no Adulation to deceive men into a better conceit of themselves than they realy deserve; I should number it among the kinds of Madness. But the contagious air of Assentation is diffused so universally, and hath infected the tongues of so great a part of mankind, that even the most imperfect frequently hear themselves commended and magnified for their very defects: which gives occasion to persons of stupid heads, and weak minds, and consequently of easy belief, to fall into this Tympany of Pride or false Glory. A passion so far different from true Generosity, that it produceth effects absolutely contrary thereunto. For, since other Goods, besides the virtuous Habit of using the liberty of our wills according to the dictates of right reason, as Wit, Beauty, Riches, Honours and the like, are therefore the more esteemed, because they are rare, and cannot be communicated to many at once: this makes Proud men labour to depress others, while themselves being enslaved to their own vicious cupidities, have their Souls uncessantly agitated by Hate, jealousy, or Anger.  
The contrary to Self-estimation, 
Art. 10. Humility▪  is Humility: whereof there are likewise two Sorts; one, Virtuous or Honest; the other, Vicious or base.  
The Virtuous, 
Virtuous▪  which is properly named Humility, consisteth only in that reflection we make upon the infirmity of our nature, and upon the errors we either have heretofore committed, or may in time to come commit: and maketh us therefore not to prefer ourselves before others, but to think them equally capable of using their freedom of Will, as well as ourselves. Whence it is, that the most Generous are also the most Humble. For being truly conscious both of their own infirmity, and of their constant purpose to Surmount it, by doing none but virtuous actions, that is, by the right use of the liberty of the Will, they easily persuade themselves, that others also have the same just sentiments, and the same good resolution in themselves; because therein is nothing that depends upon another. Wherefore they never despise any man, and though they often see others to fall into such Errors that discover their weakness; yet are they still more prone to excuse, than to condemn them, and to believe their faults proceeded rather from want of knowledge and circumspection, than from defect of an inclination and will to good. So that as on the one side, they think not themselves much inferior to those who possess more of the goods of Fortune, or exceed them in wit, learning, beauty etc. So neither do they on the other, think themselves to be much Superior to others, who have less of those perfections; because they look upon such qualities as not worth much consideration, in comparison of that goodness of Will, upon which alone they have a just valuation of themselves, and which they suppose that every man equally hath, or at least may have. This Humility therefore is inseparable from true Generosity: and being well grounded, always produceth Circumspection or Caution, which is fear to attempt any thing rashly.  

Art 11. Vicious or Dejection of Spirit.  The Vicious Humility, which is distinguished by the name of Dejection or Poorness of Spirit, proceeds likewise from an apprehension of our own infirmity; but with this difference, that a man conceives himself to be so far deprived of the right and use of Frewill, that he cannot but do things against his inclination, and of which he ought afterward to repent; and believes himself not able to subsist of himself, but to want many things whose acquisition depends upon another. So it is directly opposite to Generosity or Bravery of mind, and it is commonly observed, that poor and abject Spirits are also Arrogant and Vainglorious: as the Generous are most modest and humble. For, these are above both the smiles and and frowns of Fortune, still calm and serene as well in adversity as prosperity: but those being slaves to Fortune, and wholly guided by her, are puffed up by her favourable gales, and blown down again by her gusts. Nor is it a rarity to see men of of this base and servile temper, to descend to shameful submissions, where they either expect some benefit, or fear some evil: and at the same time to carry themselves insolently and contemptuously to ward others, from whom they neither hope nor fear any thing. This Ague of the Soul then, being ill grounded, doth so shake a man with distrust of himself, that it utterly Cows him, and keeps him from daring to attempt any worthy action, for fear of ill success: which Vice the Lord Bacon calls Restifeness of mind, and falling out of love with ones-self.  
There is yet another remarkable Passion that seems to belong to Humility, 
Art. 12. Shame and Impudence▪  and that is Shame. Which ariseth from an unwary discovery of some Defect or infirmity in us, the remembrance whereof sensibly dejecteth us, and puts us for the most part to the Blush, which is its proper Sign. That it is a sort of Modesty or diffidence of ourselves, is manifest from hence; that when a man thinks so well of himself, as not to imagine another can have just cause to contemn him; he cannot easily be checked by Shame: and as the Good that is or hath been in us, if considered with respect to the opinion others may conceive of us, doth excite Glory in us; so doth the Evil whereof we are conscious, produce Shame. And yet it cannot be denied but that in this discouraging Affect there is also some mixture of Grief or secret regret, proceeding from apprehension of Dispraise: because being ever accompanied with inward displeasure at the defect or fault uncircumspectly discovered, it cools or damp's the Spirits, teaching more wariness for the future. The Contrary to this, is Impudence; which is contempt of Shame, yea and oftentimes of Glory too. But because there is in us no special motion of the Spirits and heart, that may excite Imprudence; it seems to be no Passion, but a certain Vice opposite to Shame, and to Glory also, so far forth as they are both good and laudable: as Ingratitude is opposed to Gratitude, and Cruelty to Commiseration. And the chief cause of this vicious insensibility of Honour, is founded in grievous contumelies to which a man hath been accustomed in former times, and which he by degrees comes to despise, as of no force to hinder his enjoyment of commodities belonging to his body, whereby he measures all good and evil: thereby freeing himself from many necessities and straits to which honour would have obliged him. This therefore being no Passion, we are not concerned here further to consider it.  
But as for Pride and Dejection; that they are not only Vices, but Passions too, 
Art. 13. That Pride and its contrary, Abjectness of Spirit, are notonly Vices but Passions also.  is evident enough from the commotion of the Spirits and blood that discovers itself outwardly in men surprised by them upon any new and sudden occasion. The same may be said of Generosity also and Humility. For, notwithstanding their Motions be less quick and conspicuous, and that there seem to be much less of Convenience or fellowship betwixt Virtue and Passion, than between Passion and Vice; yet no reason appears, why the same Motion that serves to confirm a conception that is ill grounded, may not serve likewise to confirm the same conception though itbe well grounded. And because Pride and Generosity consist equally in Self-esteem▪ differing only in the injustice and justice thereof: they seem to be but one and the same Passion originaly excited by a certain motion, not simple, but composed of the motions of Admiration, joy and Love, aswell that love which is conceived for ones-self, as that for the thing which makes one to value himself: as on the Contrary, the Motion that causeth Humility, whether it be Virtuous or Vicious, seems to be composed of the motions of Admiration, Grief, and self-love mixed with Hatred of the Defects that give occasion to one to conceive a mean opinion of himself. Now what are the Motions of the Spirits or Sensitive Soul, that produce Admiration and Pride; we have formerly declared: and as to those that are proper to each of the other passions already considered; they remain to be particularly described in their due places. ¶  

Art. 14. Love and hatred.  As Admiration, the first of all the Passions, ariseth in the Soul before she hath considered whether the thing represented to her, be good and convenient to her, or not: so after she hath judged it to be good, instantly there is raised in her the most agreeable and complacent of all Passions, Love; and when she hath conceived the same to be Evil, she is as quickly moved to Hatred. For Love seems to be nothing but a Propension of the Soul to that thing which promiseth pleasure or good to her: and Hatred is nothing but the Souls Aversation from that which threatens Pain or Grief.  
By the word Propension here used, is to be understood, not Cupidity or desire, which is in truth a distinct passion proceeding from love, and always respecting the future; but Will or consent by which we consider ourselves as already joined to the thing loved, by a certain conception of ourselves to be as it were a part thereof. As on the contrary, in Aversation or Hate, we consider ourselves as entirely separate from the thing hated.  
According to these two opposite notions, 
Art. 15. Defined.  I should define Love to be a Commotion of the Soul, produced by a motion of the Spirits, which inciteth her to join herself, by her will, to objects that appear convenient and grateful to her: and Hatred, to be a Commotion produced by the spirits, that inciteth the Soul to be willing to be separated from objects that are represented to her as ungrateful and hurtful.  
Of Love there are made by the Schools two Sorts, 
Art. 16. Love, not well distinguished into Benevolence and concupiscence.  whereof the first is commonly called Amor Benevolentiae, love of Benevolence or goodwill, whereby we are incited to wish well to the thing we love: the other, Amor Concupiscentiae, which causeth us to desire to enjoy or possess the object loved. But this Distinction, if considered without prejudice, will be found to concern only the Effects of love, not the essence of it. For, so soon as a man hath in Will joined himself to an object, of what nature soever it be; he is at the same instant carried toward it by Benevolence, or (to speak more plainly) he in will also adjoins thereunto what things he believeth conducible to the good thereof: which is one of the principle Effects of love, but doth not infer a different Species of it. And the same object, if it be judged good to be possessed, or to be joined to the Soul in another manner than by the will alone▪ is instantly desired: which also ought to be accounted among the more frequent effects of love. Whence I conclude, that Desire connexed to Love, is Benevolence: as connexed with Hate, it is Malevolence or ill will. I add, that as Amity or Friendship seems to be nothing but constancy of Love: so Enmity, nothing but constancy of Hatred.  

Art. 17. But by the various degrees of Estimation.  If then you seek for a more genuine Distinction of Love, I know not how better to gratify your Curiosity, than by entertaining it with that delivered by the most excellent Monsieur Des Cartes in his book concerning the Passions; which I will therefore faithfully recite. Love (saith He) may, in my judgement, be with good reason distinguished by the several degrees of Esteem we have of the thing loved. For, when a man hath less esteem for an object, than for himself, and yet loves it; his love is no more but simple Propension or Benevolence: when as much as for himself, 'tis Amity or Friendship; when greater than for himself, it may be called Devotion. By the First, a flower, a Bird, a Horse etc. may be loved. By the second, no man of understanding can love any thing but Men, who are so properly the objects of this passion, that one can hardly be found so imperfect, but he may be conjoined to another in the most perfect bond of friendship, if that other conceive himself to be truly and sincerely beloved by him, and think him to have a Soul truly noble and generous. And as for the last, Devotion; indeed the principal object thereof is God Almighty, toward whom there is no man living, who considers as he ought, the incomprehensible perfections of the Divine nature, but must be devote (for, as Seneca, Deum colit, qui novit) Yet there is a Devotion also to ones Prince, or Country, or City, or to any private person, whom we esteem above ourselves. And the difference betwixt these three sorts of Love, is chiefly manifest from their divers Effects. For when in each of them the person loving considers himself as joined and united to the thing loved; he is always ready to quit or leave the least part of the whole that he makes with the same, to preserve the rest. Whence it comes that in simple Benevolence, the Lover always prefers himself to the thing loved: but on the contrary, in Devotion, he always prefers the thing loved, so far above himself, that he fears not to die for the conversation thereof, of which noble Love there have been glorious Examples in men who have voluntarily exposed themselves to certain death, for defence of their Prince, or of their City, yea sometimes also for private persons to whom they had particularly devoted themselves.  

Art. 18. That there are not so many distinct sorts of Love, as of objects to excite it.  This Distinction being admitted (as in my opinion it well deserves to be) there will remain no necessity of constituting so many distinct sorts of Love, as they are various objects to excite it: seeing there are many Passions very different among themselves, and in respect of their several objects, which yet agree in this, that they all participate of Love. For Example, the Passion by which the Ambitious is carried on to Glory, the Avaricious to riches, the Drunkard to wine, the Libidinous to women, the Honest to his friend, the Uxorious to his wife, the good Father to his Children, etc. differ very much among themselves, and yet so far resemble each other, that they all participate of Love. But the love of the first four aimeth at nothing but the possession of their peculiar objects; nor have they indeed any thing of love for those objects, but only Desire mixed with some other special passions. Whereas the love of a Parent to his Children, is so pure, that he desires to obtain nothing at all from them, nor to possess them in any other manner than he doth already, or to bring them to a nearer conjunction with himself; but considering them as parts of himself, seeks their good as his own, yea with greater care than his own, as not fearing to purchase their felicity at the rate of his own undoing. And the Love of an honest man to his Friends, is also of the same perfection. But the Love of a man to his Mistress, commonly distinguished by the name of the Erotic passion; is always mixed with desire of Fruition.  

Art 19 Hatred less various than Love.  And as for Hatred; though that be directly opposed to Love: yet cannot it be distinguished into as many different kinds; because the difference betwixt Evils from which we are by our will separated, cannot be so well observed, as that which is betwixt the Goods to which we are by by our will joined.  

Art. 20. Desire, always a Consequent of Love.  From what hath here been said concerning Love, as distinguishable chiefly by the several degrees of Estimation conceived for the thing loved, it may easily be collected▪ that from Love ariseth Cupidity or Desire, whereby the Soul is disposed to covet for the time to come, those things which she represents to herself as convenient and likely to afford her pleasure. Thus we desire not only the presence of an absent good, but also the conservation of the good that is present: yea we desire likewise the absence of Evil, aswell that which is already incumbent, as that which we believe possible to come upon us in the future. For in Cupidity or Desire of any thing whatsoever, which the Soul judges to be wanting to herself; she always looketh forward to the time to come.  

Art. 21. But not always Concomitant of it.  It may be collected also, that though Desire cannot be without Love, yet Love may be without Desire of possessing or enjoying the object, otherwise than by the pure embraces of the will alone. And this may be confirmed by observations of the different Motions of the Soul and Spirits raised in these two Passions, and the divers symptoms consequent thereunto. For  
In Love, 
Art. 22. The Motions of the Soul and Spirits in Love, and their Symtoms.  when it is not accompanied either with Cupidity, or with vehement joy, or with Sadness, but continues pure and simple; the Soul being incited to conjoin herself in will to objects that appear good and convenient to her, and instantly dilated; the Animal Spirits are like lightning dispatched from the brain by the nerves instantly into the Heart; and by their influx render the pulse thereof more strong and vigorous than is usual, and consequently the circulation of the blood more nimble and expedite. Whereupon the blood being more copiously diffused by the arteries, and more particularly those ascending to the brain, carries with it a recruit of vital spirits newly enkindled: which being there further sublimed or refined, and corroborating the idea or image that the first cogitation hath form of the thing loved, oblige and in some sort compel the the Soul to continue fixed upon that cogitation, and continually to indulge the same. And herein, if I am not much mistaken, doth the passion of Love principally consist. For, they who are affected therewith, have their pulse equal (the Spirits that cause it, being immitted into the Cardiac nerves with an equal and placid motion) but stronger and more frequent than ordinary; they feel a certain agreeable heat diffused in their breast; they find their brain invigorated by abundance of Spirits, and thereby grow more ingenuous; and in fine they digest their meat quickly, and perform all actions of life readily and with alacrity. All which may be ascribed to the free and expedite, but equal Circulution of the blood, caused by a copious influx of Animal Spirits into the Heart. Whence we may safely conclude, that this grateful passion is highly beneficial to all parts of the body, and conduceth much to the conservation of health; provided it continue within the bounds of moderation. But if it exceed them, and break forth into a wild and furious desire; then on the contrary, by degrees enervating the members, it at length induceth very great weakness and decay upon the whole body. For, Love accompanied with vehement desire, doth so entirely employ the Soul in the consideration of the object desired, that she retains in the brain the greatest part of the Spirits, there to represent to her the image thereof: so that the whole stock of nerves, and all the Muscles are defrauded of the influx of Spirits from the brain, with which they ought to be continually inspired or invigorated. Whence in process of time the whole Oeconomy of nature is perverted, and an universal languor ensueth.  
And in Cupidity, 
Art. 23. The Motions of the Soul and Spirits in desire.  whereby the Soul is so effused towards good or pleasure represented to her as certainly to come, as that she is suddenly checked and contracted again by reflection upon the delay of the same; there occurs this Singular, that it agitateth the heart more violently, and crowds the brain with more legions of spirits, than any other of all the passions. For out of Desire to obtain what we ardently pursue, the Spirits are most swiftly transmitted from the brain into all parts of the body that may any way serve to do the actions requisite to that end; but above all into the Heart. which being thereby dilated and contracted both more strongly and more frequently than in the state of tranquillity, quickly forceth up a more abundant supply of Vital Spirits with the blood into the brain; aswell that they may there conserve and corroborate the Idea of this Desire, as that whole brigades of them may be from thence dispatched into the Organs of the Senses, and into all Muscles, whose motions may more especially conduce to obtain what is so vehemently desired. And from the Souls reflection upon the delay of her fruition, which she at the same time makes; there ariseth in her a solicitude or trouble, whereby she is checked and contracted again, and the spirits are by intervals retracted toward the brain. So that the more subtle and spiritual blood being with the spirits recalled from the outward parts, the heart comes to be constringed and straightened, the Circulation of the blood retarded, and consequently the whole body left without spirits and vigour. Let none therefore admire, if many of those Men whom Lust, or Concupiscence, Ambition, Avarice, or any other more fervent desire hath long exercised and enslaved, be by continual solicitude of mind, brought at length into an ill Habit of body, to leanness, a defect of Nutrition, Melancholy, the Scurvy, Consumption and other incurable diseases. Nor are you after this so clear manifestation of the great disparity betwixt the Motions and necessary Consequents of Love when pure and simple, and those of Love commixed with Cupidity or ardent Desire of enjoyment, longer to doubt, but that Love and Desire are Passions essentially different; notwithstanding it be true, that the Later is always dependent upon the Former.  
And as for the Motions of the Spirits and blood in that anxious Affect of the mind, Hatred, 
Art. 24. The Motions of the Spirits and blood in Hatred.  which is directly opposed to Love, evident it is, that when the Soul is moved to withdraw herself from any object that appears to threaten Evil or pain, instantly the Spirits are retracted inwards to the brain, and principally to that part of it which is the instrument or mint of Imagination; there to corroborate the idea of Hatred, which the first thought hath form of the ungrateful object; and to dispose the Soul to sentiments full of bitterness and detestation: So that the while, very few of them, and those too inordinately and by unequal impulses, are transmitted into the Heart, by the Pathetic nerves, And from this offensive Contraction of the whole Sensitive Soul, and as it were compression of the Animal spirits, and subsequent destitution of the Heart, it comes, that in this sour passion always the Pulse is made weak and unequal, and oftentimes frequent and creeping; that cold, mixed with a certain pricking heat not easy to be described, but sensibly injurious to the vital parts, and repugnant to their regular motions, is felt within the breast; and that even the stomach itself, diverted from its office of Concoction, nauseateth the meats it had received, and strives to reject them by vomit. Which often happens upon sight of an odious and abominable object. Now all these evil effects of Hate, give indisputable evidence, that it can never be either grateful to the mind, or beneficial to the motions of life, upon which health so nearly depends: and this, because Hate always hath Sadness for its concomitant; and because by diversion of the Animal spirits, partly to assist the Imagination, partly to move the members for avoidance of the hated object, it defrauds the blood of its due supplies of spirits and fuel, retards the motion and equal distribution of it, and by that means destroys concoction, incrassates the humours, heaps up melancholy, and by degrees brings the whole body to poverty and leanness. Moreover, sometimes this disagreeable Passion is exalted to Anger, whereby the Soul, offended with the Evil or wrong she hath suffered, at first Contracts herself, and by and by with vehemency springs back again to her natural posture of Coextension with the whole body, as if the strove to break out into revenge: and then it is that the spirits are in a tumultuous manner, and impetuously hurried hither and thither, now from the brain to the heart, than back again from the heart to the brain; and so there follow from these contrary motions alternately reciprocated, aswell a violent agitation, palpitation, burning and anxiety of the heart; as a diffusion of the blood, distension of the veins, redness of the face, and sparkling of the eyes, together with a distorsion of the mouth (such as may be observed in great indignation, and seems composed of laughter and weeping mixed together) grinding of the teeth, and other symptoms of Anger and fury. It is not then without reason Physicians advise Men to decline this passion, as a powerful enemy to health in all but such as are of a cold, dull, and phlegmatic temperament; because it inflames first the spirits, than the blood, and when violent, it puts us into fevers, and other acute distempers, by accension of choler, and confusion of humours. And I could furnish you with examples of some whom this short fury hath fired into perpetual madness, of others whom it hath felled with Apoplexies, others whom it hath thrown into Epilepsies, racked with Convulsions, unnerved with Palsies, disjointed with the Gout, shaken with tremble, and the like: but that the books of Physicians are full of them.  

Art. 25. Hate always accompanied▪ with Sadness  Here before we proceed to other consequent Passions, it is fit to make a short reflection upon Hatred, that I may verify what was only hinted in the precedent enumeration of the evil Effects thereof, viz. that it is ever accompanied with Sadness. Concerning this therefore I reason thus. Forasmuch as Evil, the proper object of Hate, is nothing but a Privation; and that we can have no conception thereof without some real Subject wherein we apprehend it to be; and that there is in nature nothing real which hath not some goodness in it: it follows of necessity, that Hatred, which withdraws us from some Evil, doth at the same time remove us also from some Good to which the same is conjoined. And since the Privation of this Good, is represented to the Soul as a Defect or want belonging to her: it instantly affecteth her with sorrow. For Example; the Hate that alienateth us from the evil manners of a man with whom formerly we have been acquainted, separateth us likewise from his Conversation, wherein we might find something of Good: and to be deprived of that Good, is matter of regret and Sorrow. So in all other Hatred, we may soon observe some cause of Sorrow. ¶  
To the excitement of Desire in the Soul, 
Art. 26. Hope and Fear.  it is sufficient that she conceive the acquisition of the Good, or avoidance of the Evil represented to her as to come, to be possible: but if she further consider whether it be Easy or Difficult for her to obtain her end; and there occur to her more reasons for the facility: then there succeeds that gentle Effusion or Tendency of the Soul toward the good desired, which is called Hope or Expectation of good to come. Whereas on the contrary, if the greater weight be found in the other Scale, and she apprehend the thing desired, to be Difficult; she is immediately Contracted, and cooled with that ungrateful passion, Fear, which is expectation of Evil to come. And as Hope exalted to the highest degree, is changed into Trust, Confidence or Security: So on the contrary, Fear in extremity becomes Desperation. Again, if this Contraction of the Soul by Fear, be sudden and profound, and the Evil expected very great; then is the passion called Terror, Dread and Consternation, which sometimes is so violent, as to cause Exanimation or sudden Death.  

Art. 27. Pusillanimity and Courage.  If the Soul, upon apprehension that the Good desired, is not indeed absolutely impossible, but highly difficult for her to obtain; or the Evil feared, is not altogether impossible, yet extremely hard to be avoided; persist in her Contraction: she is daunted or cowd into that ignoble weakness called Pusillanimity or Cowardice. But if after her Contraction at first, she exserting her strength, spring forth as it were, and with vehemency dilate herself, to surmount her fear, and overcome the difficulties apprehended: then is she reanimated as it were, or fortified with the noblest of all Passions, Courage or Boldness, or Bravery of Mind, which makes her contemn all obstacles to her attainment of her end, whether it be the acquisition of good, or declination of Evil; and which (when it is not a habit or natural inclination) seems to be an ardour or flashing of the Sensitive Soul, disposing her to act vigorously, and without fear, toward the vanquishing of difficulties that stand betwixt her and the scope she aims at.  
And of this Animosity, Emulation is a species, whereby the Soul is disposed to attempt or enetrprise difficult things, 
Art. 28. Emulation, a species of Magnanimity.  which she hopes will succeed happily to her, because she observes them to do so to others. But than it is to be distinguished from simple Animosity by two proprieties. Whereof One is, that it hath not only an internal Cause, viz. such a disposition of the spirits and body, that Desire and Hope may have greater power in impelling the blood in abundance to the heart, than Fear or Despair can have in hindering that motion: but also an external Cause, namely, the Example of others who have been prosperous in the like attempts, which creates a belief in us, that we also shall be able to conquer the difficulties occurring afwell as those others have done. The Other, this; that Emulation is ever accompanied with secret Grief, which ariseth from seeing ourselves exceeded or excelled by our concurrents. But simple Animosity wants both Example for incitement, and Grief for alloy. But both these passions equally depend upon Hope of good success. For,  
Though the object of Audacity be difficulty, yet to animate us to contend bravely with that difficulty, 
Art. ●●. Confidence▪ and Despair.  we must be possessed with a strong hope, or certain belief, that we shall at length attain our end. Yet this end is not the same thing with that object; for, there cannot be both Certitude and Despair of the same thing at the same time. So when the Roman Decii rushed into the thickest troops of their enemies, and ran to certain death; the object of their daring was the difficulty of conserving their lives in that action, for which difficulty they had nothing but Desperation, being resolved certainly to die: but their End was, either by their example to inspire courage into the Roman army, and by them to obtain the victory they hoped; or to acquire posthume Glory, whereof they were certain. If therefore even in this action that was in itself desperate, Courage were grounded upon Hope; we may well conclude, that it is always so.  

Art. 30▪ Doubting.  From the reasons we have alleged of Hope and Fear, it is evident, that we may have those contrary passions excited in us, though the Event of the thing expected no way depend upon ourselves. But when we proceed to consider the Event as altogether, or for the most part depending upon our own counsel, and perceive a difficulty to arise either in our election, or execution of the means whereby to obtain our end: then there immediately follows a Doubting or Fluctuation of the mind, whereby we are disposed to deliberate and consult; and which is indeed a species of Fear. And this wavering, while it retains the Soul as it were in a doubtful balance betwixt two actions which are offered to her election; is the cause that she performs neither, but takes time to consider before she determineth which to do, for fear of erring in her choice. Which Fear, if moderate and under the command of Prudence, is always of good use; in that it serves to prevent Temerity or Rashness: but in some over-cautious persons, it is so vehement, that though but one thing occur to be done or omitted by them, it holds them too long upon the rack of suspense, and hinders them from proceeding to action. And in this case, the passion is Excess of Doubting, arising from too ardent desire of good success, and weakness of Understanding, which hath indeed many confused notions, but none perspicuous and distinct concerning the means to effect its design.  
If during this irresolution, 
Art. 31▪ Remorse and acquiescence  we have determined the liberty of our choice, and fixed upon some one action in order to our end; and the event be not answerable to our expectation: presently we are affected with that disquiet of mind, which is named by the Greeks, Synteresis; by the Latins, Morsus Conscientiae; and by the French, Regret; which yet doth not (as the precedent passions) respect the future, but present or past time▪ This Remorse of Conscience is no other but a kind of Sorrow, arising from a scruple interposed, whether what we are doing, or have done, be good, or not. And it necessarily presupposeth dubitation. For, if we were clearly convinced that the action we are doing, is realy evil; we should certainly abstain from doing it: because the will is not carried to any thing, but what hath some show of goodness in it. And if it were manifest, that what we have done, is realy evil: we should presently be touched not with simple regret, but with Repentance. For, as the Good we have done, gives us that internal Acquiescence or satisfaction, which is of all other Passions the sweetest: so on the contrary, the ill we have done, punisheth us with Repentance, which is of all passions the bitterest.  
Having in this manner discovered the originals and distinct proprieties of these two opposite Passions, Hope and Fear, with their genuine dependants; it may not a little conduce to the illustration of what hath here been briefly delivered concerning them, if we more expressly describe the divers Motions of the Sensitive Soul and Spirits that constitute their formal reasons, so far at least as those motions are observable from their respective Characters or Effects.  
In Hope therefore (which we defined to be a gentle and sweet Effusion or Expansion of the Soul towards some good expected to come) if we be possessed with an opinion, 
Art. 32.▪ The Motions of the Soul and Spirits in Hope.  that the thing desired will shortly come to pass; I conceive that presently the Animal Spirits, which before were employed as Emissaries, to contemplate the image of the object, returning toward the Soul, give notice of the approach of the guest expected: and that thereupon the whole Soul composing herself by expansion to receive and welcome the same, sets open all the doors of the Senses to admit more freely all the good belonging thereunto; retains the imagination fixed and intent upon the grateful idea thereof; and by copious supplies of spirits dispatched into the nerves of the Heart, so invigorates and quickens the pulse thereof, that thereby the blood is more briskly sent forth into the outward parts of 't he body, as it were to meet the expected thing. Whence it is, that when we are full of Hope, we feel a certain inflation both within and without in our whole body, together with a glowing but pleasant heat, from the blood and spirits universally diffused. But if during this comfortable emotion of the Soul, there occur any sudden cause of Doubt or fear; she is instantly checked and cooled into an anxious Retraction of herself, and a sinking of the spirits, so that the motion of the heart becomes weaker and slower, and the external parts grow languid and pale. For,  

Art. 33. The Motions of the Soul and Spirits in Fear.  In Fear, the Sensitive Soul, which was before expansed, being surprised with apprehension of approaching Evil, and willing to decline it, immediately withdraws herself into her retiring room, and shrinks up herself into herself; at the same time recalling her forces, the spirits, to her aid, and compressing them. If the Fear be exalted to the degree of Terror, and the Evil seem impendent; then at the same time the spirits are suddenly recalled from the outguards, the pores of the skin also are shut up by strong constriction (as if the Soul would obstruct and barricado all avenues against her invading enemy) whereby the hairs are raised an end, and the whole body is put into a Horror or shaking, After this, if the passion continue, the whole army of spirits being put into confusion, so that they can not execute their offices; the usual succours of Reason fail, and the powers of voluntary motion become weak; yea sometimes, by reason of a resolution of the nerves and sphincters of the guts and bladder, the Excrements themselves are let forth involuntarily. From this damp obscuring the Lucid part of the Sensitive Soul, there quickly succeeds an Eclipse also of the Vital. For the influx of the Animal spirits from the brain into the Cardiac nerves being intermitted, the motions of the heart must of necessity be rendered weak, and insufficient to maintain with due vigour and celerity the circulation of the blood: which therefore stopping and stagnating in the ventricles of the heart, causeth fainting and swooning by oppression; and sometimes (where the passion is heightened into Consternation also sudden death. And from this arrest of the blood in the heart, by strong constriction of the nerves thereunto belonging; we may with reason derive that same anxious oppression, and chilling weight which men commonly feel in their breast, when they are invaded by violent Fear; and upon which the most acute Monsieur Des Cartes seems to have reflected his thoughts, when he defined Consternation to be not only a cold, but also a perturbation and stupor of the Soul, which takes from her the power of resisting evils that she apprehends to be near.  

Art. 34. The Motions in Desperation.  This Fear, when it excludes all hope of evasion, degenerateth into the most cruel of all passions, Desperation. Which though by exhibiting the thing desired as impossible, it wholly extinguish desire, which is never carried but to things apprehended as possible: yet it so afflicts the Soul, that she persevering in her Constriction, either through absolute despondency yields up herself as overcome, and remains half-extinct and entombed in the body; or driven into confusion and neglect of all things, contracts a deep Melancholy, or flies out into a furious Madness; in both cases, seeking to put an end to her misery by destroying herself.  
On the contrary, when Fear gives place to Hope; and that Hope is strong enough to produce Courage; thereby to incense the Soul to encounter the difficulties that oppose her in the way to her end: in this case she first dilates herself with great vigour and celerity, breaking forth as it were into flashes of efforts; then instantly diffuseth whole legions of spirits into the nerves and muscles, to extend them, in order to resistance or striking with all their forces; and uniting all her powers into a brave devoir to overcome, undauntedly pursues the the conflict. Hence it comes, that the breast being strongly dilated and contracted alternately, the voice is sent forth more sounding and piercing than at other times; as if to sound a defiance and charge at once: the arms are raised up, the hands constringed into fists, the head advanced into a posture of daring and contempt of danger, the brows contracted, and the whole face distorted into an aspect full of terror and threatenings, the neck swollen, and most other parts distended beyond their usual dimensions. All which symptoms evidently arise from a copious and impetuous effusion of Animal spirits from the brain, and of blood from the heart, into the outward parts. ¶  
From this concise explication of the motions of the Sensitive Soul, the spirits and blood, that constitute the passions of Hope and Fear, with their dependants, Animosity and Desperation, the clue of our method leads us to the fifth classis of passions.  
The consideration of good present, 
Art. 35. Joy.  and belonging to us in particular, begets in the Soul that delight which we call joy: wherein consisteth our possession of that good, which the impressions of the brain represent to the Soul as her own.  
First I say, that in this delightful commotion doth consist the possession of good; because in truth the Soul reaps no other fruit from all the goods she possesseth: and when she takes no delight or joy in them, it may justly be said, she doth no more enjoy them, than if she did not at all possess them.  
Then I add, that the good is such as the impressions made upon the brain represent to the Soul as hers; that I may not confound this Joy whereof I now speak, and which is a Passion; with Joy purely intellectual, which enters into the Rational Soul by an action proper to her alone, and which we may call a pleasant commotion raised by herself in herself, wherein consisteth the possession of good, that her intellect represents to her as her own. Tho realy so long as the Rational Soul continues conjoined with the Sensitive, it can hardly be but that this intellectual joy will have the other that is a passion, for its companion. For, so soon as our Intellect observes that we possess any good, though that good be so far different from all that pertains to the body, that it is wholly unimaginable; yet presently the Imagination makes some impression in the brain, from whence followeth a motion of the Sensitive Soul, and of the Spirits, that exciteth the passion of Joy.  
Of this so grateful affection there are divers sorts, 
Art. 36. The various Degrees of joy and their names.  or (to speak more strictly) degrees. For, as various circumstances may intervene, and cause the Soul to be more or less affected with her fruition of the good she possesseth: so may we distinguish various differences of the passion itself. To be more particular; as the good she possesseth, is great or small; unexpected, or long desired; durable, or transitory; and as reason moderateth the appetite, or suffers it to be unbridled: so it comes to pass, that the Effusion of the Soul, and consequently the pleasure is greater or less, permanent or momentary, immoderate or temperate, etc. And hence the kinds of more remiss Joy are called Complacency, jucundity, Gladness, Exhilaration: and those of more intens, Rejoicing, Exsultation, Triumph, Boasting, Transport or Ecstasy, Laughter, etc.  
By the same reason, 
Art 37. The various Degrees of Grief, and their names.  as the Evil that causeth the opposite passion of Grief, is in the present great or little, sudden or foreseen, long or short, and the like: so are there excited various kinds or degrees of Trouble or Grief; and accordingly the passion is distinguished into Discontent, Solicitude, Vexation, Sadness, Sorrow, Affliction, Misery, Lamentation, Weeping and Howling. All which belong to Grief, which is an ingrateful Languor of the Sensitive Soul, wherein alone consisteth the incommodity that happeneth to her from Evil or defect, which the impressions made upon the brain, represent to her as her own. For, besides this, there is also an Intellectual Sorrow proper to the Rational Soul, which is not to be placed in the number of the passions, though for the most part it hath for its adjunct the passion of Sorrow; by reason of the most strict conjunction betwixt the two Souls in this life.  

Art. 35. Envy and Pity.  As the Good or Evil present, being represented as belonging particularly to ourselves, produceth Joy or Grief in us: so when Good or Evil is proposed to us, as belonging to others; we so far concern ourselves therein, as to judge them worthy, or unworthy of the same. If we judge them unworthy of the good that is happened to them; that raiseth Envy in us: if we think them not to deserve the Evil that is befallen them, than we are affected with Pity or Commiseration, which is a species of Sorrow, and the contrary to it is Hardness of Heart, proceeding either from slowness of imagination (for men of dull capacities are generally less apt to pity the calamities of others) or from strong opinion of our own exemption from the like sufferings, or from that inhuman temper of mind which the Grecians call Misanthropia, Hatred of all or most men; or finally from despair after long adversity, whereby the mind being grown as it were callous or brawny (as Seneca expresseth it) is apt to conceive, that no evil can come to it, greater than what it hath been accustomed to undergo.  
On the contrary, 
Art. 39 Generous men most inclined to Commiseration; and why.  they are more than others propens to Commiseration, who think themselves very weak and obnoxious to adverse fortune: because representing to themselves another's misfortune, as possible to happen to themselves also (for the evil that happeneth to an innocent man, may happen to every man) they are easily moved to pity, but more out of love of themselves than of others. And yet it hath been ever observed, that men of the most generous and Heroic spirits, such who having by brave resolutions, and habitual magnanimity, elevated their souls above the power of fortune, and so could fear no evil that she could bring upon them▪ have nevertheless been prone to Commiseration, when they beheld the infirmity of others, and heard their complaints, because it is a part of true Generosity, to wish well to every one. But the Grief of this Heroic Commiseration is not (as the other) bitter, but like that which Tragical cases represented in a Theatre, produce, it is placed more in the Sense, than in the Soul itself which at the same time enjoyeth the satisfaction of thinking that she doth her duty in sympathising with the afflicted. And the difference betwixt the Commiseration of the vulgar, and that of Generous minds, doth chiefly consist in this; that the vulgar pitieth the misery of those who complain, as thinking the evil they suffer, to be very grievous and intolerable: but the principal object of generous pity, is the imbecility and impatience of those who complain n; because men of great Souls think, that no accident can fall upon a man, which is not really a less evil than the Pusillanimity of those who cannot endure it with constancy; which Seneca intimateth (de tranquillitate anim●, cap. 15.) where he saith, neminem ●●ebo sientem; nam suis lacrymis efficit, ne ullis dignus sit: and though they hate the vices of men, they do hate not their persons, but only pity them.  
Manifest it is therefore, that in some, 
Art. 40. Commiseration, a species of Grief mixed with Benevolence.  Commiseration is nothing but imagination of future Calamity to ourselves, proceeding from the sense of another man's calamity; as it is defined by Mr Hobbs: in others, a species of Grief, mixed with Love or Benevolence toward those whom we observe to suffer under some evil, which we think they have not deserved; as it is defined by Monsieur des Cartes.  
Manifest it is likewise, 
Art. 41▪ Envy, a sort of Grief mixed with Hate.  that the contrary passion, Envy, is a sort of Grief mixed with Hate, proceeding from our sense of prosperity in another, whom we judge unworthy thereof. A passion never excusable, but where the Hatred it contain's, is against the unjust distribution of the good that is envied, not the person that possesseth it, or that distributed it. But in this corrupt age, there are very few so just and generous, as to be free from all Hate towards their competitors, who have prevented them in the acquisition of a good which is not communicable to many at once, and which they had desired to appropriate to themselves; though they who have acquired it, be equally or more worthy thereof.  

Art. 42. Acquiescence of mind, a kind of joy..  When we reflect our thoughts upon good done by ourselves, there results to us that internal Satisfaction or Acquiescence of mind, which is a species of joy; calm indeed, and serious, but incomparably sweet and pleasant; because the Cause of it dependeth upon nothing but ourselves. But then that cause ought to be just, that is, the good upon which we reflect our cogitations, aught to be of great moment: otherwise the Satisfaction we fancy to ourselves, is false, and ridiculous, serving only to beget pride and absurd arrogancy. Which may be specially observed in those who esteem themselves truly religious, and pretend to great perfection of Sanctity, when in reality they are Superstitious and Hypocrites: that is, who because they frequent the temple, recite many prayers, wear short hair, observe fasting-days, give alms, and perform other the like external duties of Religion; therefore think themselves to be arrived at the highest degree of purity, and to be so far in the favour of Almighty God, that they can do nothing that may displease him, and that whatever their passion suggesteth to them, is of holy zeal; though it not seldom suggesteth the most detestable crimes that can enter into the heart of Man, as the betraying of Cities, assassination of Princes, extermination of Nations, only because they follow not their fanatique opinions. And this Delusion seems to be the Daughter of internal Acquiescence grounded upon an unjust cause. Again, to excite this most comfortable passion, it is requisite that the good act upon which we reflect, be newly done by us: because that constant satisfaction or self-acquiescence which always is a concomitant and certain reward of Virtue, is not a passion, but a pacific Habit in the Rational Soul; and is therefore called Tranquillity and Quiet of Conscience.  
On the contrary, 
Art. 43. Repentance, a species of Grief, but allayed with something of joy..  from our remembrance of an Evil act by us committed, ariseth Repentance, which is a branch of Grief, always most bitter, because the cause of it is only from ourselves: but then this Grief is allayed by expectation of amendment, or returning into the right way to good; which is referrible to joy.. Nor doth the bitterness of this passion hinder it from being of excellent use in our life, when the action whereof we repent, is realy Evil, and we certainly know it to be so: because in such cases it strongly inciteth us to do better in the future. But it is not universally profitable. For it is no rarity for men of weak and timorous minds to be touched with Repentance of actions they have done, though they do not certainly know those actions to be realy evil, but only believe them to be so, because they fear lest they be so, and if they had done the contrary, they would have been equally disquieted with repentance. Which is an imperfection in them well worthy Commiseration: and they ought to repent of such their Repentance.  

〈◊〉 44. ●avour.  When we observe, or recall to mind good performed by an other, though not to ourselves; we are thereby moved to Favour the doer: because we are by nature inclined to like and love those who do actions that we think good, although from thence nothing of good redounds to us in particular. Favour therefore is a species of Love, accompanied with desire of seeing good to happen to the person whom we favour; and sometimes with Commiseration, because the adversity that falls upon those whom we think to be good, makes us the more to reflect upon their merits.  
But if the good done by another upon which we reflect our cogitations, 
〈◊〉 45. Gratitude.  hath been done to Us; then to favour is adjoined Gratitude: which likewise is a kind of Love, excited in us by some action of another, whereby we believe▪ that eithe●●he hath realy benefited, no● at least intended to benefit us in particular● and accompanied with Desire to show ourselves thankful to 〈…〉 therefore this passion of Gratitude 〈…〉 excels simple Favour in this, that it is grounded upon an action which concerns Us: so hath it far greater force upon the mind, especially in men of noble and generous natures. The Contrary hereunto is Ingratitude, which notwithstanding is no Passion (for Nature, as if she abhorred it, hath ordained in us no motion of the Spirits whereby it might be excited) but a mere Vice, proper to men who are either foolishly proud, and therefore think all benefits due to them; or fottishly stupid, so as to make no reflection upon good turns done them; or of weak and abject minds, who having been obliged by the bounty and charity of their Benefactors, instead of being grateful, prosecute them with hatred; and this because either wanting the will to requite, or despairing of ability to make equal returns, and falsely imagining that all are like themselves, venal and mercenary, and that none doth good offices but in hope of remuneration; they think that their Benefactors have deceived them; and so deprave the benefit itself into an injury. Hatred then being an adjunct to Ingratitude; it follows that Love must attend on Gratitude, which is therefore always honest, and one of the principal bonds of human Society.  

Art. 46. Indignation.  On the contrary, when we consider Evil committed by an other, though not against us; we are moved to Indignation: which is a species of Hatred or Aversion raised in us against those who do any thing that we judge to be evil or unjust, whatsoever it be; sometimes commixed with Envy, sometimes with Commiseration, sometimes with Derision; as having its object very much diversified. For, we conceive Indignation against those who do good or evil to such who are unworthy thereof; but we Envy those who receive that good, and pity those who suffer that evil. And yet in truth, to obtain good whereof one is unworthy, is in some degree to do evil: and to do Evil, is in some sort to suffer evil. Whence it comes, that sometimes we conjoin Pity, sometimes Derision to our Indignation, according as we stand well or ill affected toward them whom we observe to commit Errors. And therefore the Laughter of Democritus, who derided the folly, and the Tears of Heraclitus, who bewailed the misery of mankind, might both proceed from the same cause, Indignation.  
But when Evil is done to ourselves, 
Art. 47. Anger.  the passion thereby kindled in us, is Anger: which likewise is a species of Hatred or Aversation, but different from Indignation in this, that it is founded upon an action done by another with intention to hurt us in particular; and in this, that when it hath proceeded to a determination of hurting him who did it, it passeth into Revenge; whereas at first accension, the Passion is no more but Excandescence or sudden Heat of blood. The Desire of Revenge that for the most part accompanieth Anger, whether it aim at the death, or only at the subjection of our Enemy; is indeed directly opposed to Gratitude (for this is desire of returning good for good, and that, desire of requiting evil with evil) as Indignation is to Favour: but incomparably more vehement than either of those three affections; because the desire of repelling harm, and revenging ourselves, is a part of natural instinct necessary to self-preservation, and so of all desires the strongest and most urgent. And being consociated with Love of ourselves, it affords to Anger all that impetuous agitation of the Spirits and blood, that Animosity and Boldness or Courage can excite: and its assistant, Hatred, promoting the accension of the Choleric or more Sulphureous parts of the blood as it passeth through the heart, raiseth in the whole mass thereof a more pricking and fervent heat, than that which is observed in the most ardent Love, or most profuse joy..  

Art. 48. Two sorts of Anger; one, Harmless the other Revengeful.  Now as men inflamed with this violent passion, or (as Seneca calls it● short fury of Anger, differ in point of temperament; and as this or that of the usual concomitants of it, is more powerful than the rest: so must the Effects thereof upon the body be likewise various. And from this variety men have taken notice chiefly of two sorts of Anger. One, that is quickly kindled, violent at first, and discovers itself visibly by outward signs: but performs little, and may be easily composed. And to this, they are most obnoxious, who are good-natured, i.e. who are inclined to goodness and love. For, it ariseth not from profound Hatred, but from a sudden Aversion surprising them: because being propens to conceive that all things ought to proceed in that manner which they judge to be the best; whenever they see others to act otherwise, first they admire, and then are offended; and so what would be to others matter only of Indignation, to them proves cause of Anger. But this commotion is soon calmed, because the force of the sudden Aversion that raised it, continues not long: and so soon as they perceive that the thing for which they were offended, ought not to have commoved them to passion; they suppress their displeasure, and repent of it. The Other, that wherein Hatred and Grief are predominant, and which though at first it hardly betray itself by external signs, unless by the sudden paleness of the countenance, and trembling; is notwithstanding more impetuous within, secretly gnaws the very heart, and produceth dangerous effects. And to this pernicious sort of Anger they are most subject, who have prou●, cowardly and weak Souls. For, so much the greater do injuries appear, by how much the better opinion pride makes Men to have of themselves; yea and by how much greater value is put upon the things which the injuries take away: and these things are always so much the more valued, by how much the more weak and abject the Soul is; because they depend upon others, but the Generous put little value upon any thing that is not dependent upon themselves.  
When we consider what opinion other Men have of Us, the Good which we believe to be in us, disposeth us to Glory, which seems to be composed of Self-estimation, and joy; 
Art. 49. Glory and Shame.  for to see ourselves well esteemed by others, gives us cause to have a good esteem for ourselves: and on the contrary, the Evil we are conscious of, forceth us to Shame, which is a sort of Modesty or Humility, and Self-diffidence; for (as we have formerly observed) who thinks himself above Contempt, will hardly be humbled to shame. These two Passions, Glory and Shame, though directly opposite each to other, do yet agree in their End, which is to incite us to Virtue; the first by hope, the other by fear: and that we may make a right use of them both, we are to have our judgement well instructed what actions are truly worthy praise or dispraise; lest otherwise we be ashamed of virtuous actions, or affect glory from vices; as it happeneth to too great a part of mankind.  
Thus have we at length recounted all the Passions of this our fifth division, and deduced them successively from their several causes or occasions, in that order wherein their most remarkable diversity seemed to us most easily distinguishable. But now because some of these passions are simple, others Composed; and that to our more clear understanding of the nature of both sorts, it is necessary to inquire more profoundly into the Motions of the Sensitive Soul and spirits that constitute their Essential Differences: it remains that we yield obedience to that necessity, so far forth at least, as to explain the Motions proper to that couplet of more simple affections, joy and Grief; the two points in which all human actions end; and to that most violent one, Anger.  
In joy therefore, 
Art. 50. The Motions of the Soul and spirits i● joy..  which is a delightful commotion of the Sensitive Soul as it were triumphing in her fruition of good or pleasure; I conceive that the Animal spirits being in great abundance, but with a placid and equal motion, sent by the nerves to the heart, cause the orifices thereof to be opened and dilated more than at other times; and so the blood to be imported and exported more copiously and freely: and that by this means, from the blood are brought into the brain a plenteous supply of new spirits, which extracted out of the purest and most refined parts of the blood, are most fit to confirm the idea form of the present good in the imagination, and so to continue the Soul in her pleasant Emotion. Hence probably it is, that in this most agreeable passion, both the pulse is always made equal and more frequent, though not so intense and strong as in Love; and a certain grateful heat is felt, not only through the Lungs and all the breast, but through all outward parts of the body; from the diffusion of the blood in full streams into them, which is discernible even by the florid purple colour wherewith they are suddenly tinged, and by the inflation or plumpness of all the muscles of the face, which is thereby rendered more serene, sweet and cheerful. Easy therefore it is to infer, that as this passion is most congruous to the nature of the Corporeal Soul, so are the corporeal motions that accompany and characterise it, most profitable to health; provided they be moderare. For, this Commotion and Effusion may be so vehement and sudden, that the Soul may become weak, and unable to rule the body, or to actuate the organs of speech, yea swooning, and death itself sometimes follow profuse and insolent Joy. So Lacon Chilo, an eminent Philosopher, suddenly expired in excessive joy, beholding his Son a Victor in the Olympic games. So Sophocles the Tragedian also, and Dionysius the Tyrant died of a surfeit of sudden Joy. The reason whereof seems to consist, not in a vehement effusion and dissipation of the vital spirits, and a destitution of the Heart consequent thereunto; as Fernelius would have it; because the faster the blood is effused through the arteries from the heart, the swifter must it return to the heart through the veins, so that the heart cannot be totaly exhausted and left destitute of blood: but rather in a surcharge and suffocation of the heart by too redundant an afflux of blood. For, upon extraordinary dilatation of the floodgates of the heart by immoderate joy, the current of blood both out of the Vena cava, and from the arteria venosa, may pour itself with so much violence, and in so great a quantity, into the ventricles thereof, that the heart, unable to discharge itself soon enough of that oppressing deluge, by retruding its valves, may be suffocated, its motions stopped, and the Vital Flame in a moment extinguished. For certain it is, that in the state of health, the blood is not admitted into the heart beyond a certain proportion: nor can that proportion be much exceeded, whatever the cause be that maketh an apertio portarum there, without manifest danger of life.  

Art 51. Laughter.  Among the Signs of this delightful passion, some have given the upper hand to that distortion of the countenance, accompanied with a loud, but inarticulate voice, which we call Laughter: but this being neither proper to, nor inseparable from joy, cannot therefore belong to it essentialy. That it is frequently a concomitant of Mirth or Hilarity, is not to be disputed: but Mirth is the lowest degree of Joy, a light and superficial emotion of the Sensitive Soul and Spirits, a kind of short tickling of the Imagination, usualy expressed by Laughter: whereas joy is serious, profound and grave, according to that memorable Sentence of Seneca (epist. 23.) res severa est verum gaudium. Laughter then (as I said) is not proper to all Joy; because common to some other affections: for some are observed to laugh out of Indignation, others out of Contempt and disdain, neither of which belong to any kind of Joy. Nor is it inseparable from Joy; because in truth Joy cannot produce Laughter, unless when it is very moderate, and hath something of Admiration or Hate mixed with it. For, we have it from the oracle of Experience, that in great and profound Joy, the cause of it, whatsoever it be, doth never force us to break forth into laughter: nay more, that we are most easily provoked to laugh, when we are sad. Whereof the reason seems to be, either because in solid Joy, the Sensitive Soul is so deeply commoved, so entirely taken up with the delight of fruition, that she cannot attend to shake the Midriff, Lungs and Muscles of the breast; nimbly and strongly enough to create laughter: or because at that time the Lungs are so distended with blood, that they cannot, by repeated concussions, or alternate contractions and relaxations, be further inflated with air, whereof no little quantity is required to produce that loud sound emitted in Laughter. That we may understand this matter more fully, let us examine the cause or occasion, and the Motions of Laughter.  
As for the First, 
Art. 52. The occasions of Laughter.  viz. the Occasion or Motive; whatsoever it be, there must concur therein these three Conditions following. (1.) it must be new and surprising; because whatsoever is ridiculous at first, ceaseth to be so when grown stale, (2.) it must be such a novelty as may suggest to us a conception of some eminency or advantage in ourselves above another whom the occasion chiefly concerns: for, why are we naturally prone to laugh at either a jest (which is nothing but a witty or elegant discovery and representation of some absurdity or indecency of another, abstracted from his person) or at the mischances and infirmities of others; unless from hence, that thereby our own abilities are the more set off and illustrated, and recommended to us by way of comparison? (3.) It must not touch our own, or our friend's honour; for, in that point we are too tender to tolerate, much less to laugh at a jest broken upon ourselves, or friends, of whose dishonour we participate. These requisites in a ridiculous cause considered, we may adventure to conclude, that Laughter is an effect of sudden, but light Joy arising from the unexpected discovery of some infirmity in another not our friend, and from imagination of our own eminency, and exemption from the like. Here then (you see) is something of Admiration from the Novelty, something of Aversion from the Infirmity, & something of joy or triumph from our opinion of some eminency in ourselves.  

Art 53. Laughter out of Indignation.  And as for that Laughter which is sometimes joined with Indignation; it is most commonly fictitious or artificial, and then it depends entirely upon our will, as a voluntary action: but when 'tis true or Natural, it seems likewise to arise from joy conceived from hence, that we see ourselves to be above offence by that evil which is the cause or subject of our indignation; and that we feel ourselves surprised by the unexpected novelty of the same. So that to the production of this Laughter also is required a concurs of joy, Aversion and Admiration; but all moderate.  
If this be so, 
Art. ●4. A rare example of involuntary Laughter.  what then shall we think of that odd example of Laughter in Ludovicus vives; who writes of himself (lib. 3. de Anima, cap. de Risu) that usually when he began to eat after long fasting, he could not forbear to break forth into a fit of loud laughter? This doubtless was not voluntary; because he strove to suppress it: nor could it be Convulsive, such as Physicians call Risus Sardonius; because he was in perfect health, sensible of no pain therein, nor incommodity thereupon. It must therefore be Natural, though not Passionate; proceeding from some cause very obscure, and idiosyncritical, that is peculiar to his constitution: perhaps this, that in this Learned man, either the Lungs were more apt to be distended with blood, or the Midriff more easily put into the motions that produce laughter, than commonly they are in most other men. The First, because in general, whatsoever causeth the Lungs to be suddenly puffed up and distended with blood, causeth also the external action of Laughter; unless where sorrow changeth that action into groaning and weeping: the other, because all Laughter is made chiefly by quick and short vibrations of the Midriff. But this rare Phenomenon we shall perhaps be better able to solve, when we have considered how the action of Laughter is performed in all other men.  

Art. 55. A conjecture concerning the cause thereof.  Concerning this Problem therefore, it is observable that in Man, there seems to be a greater consent or sympathy, or rather commerce of motions betwixt the Midriff and the Heart, yea and the Imagination also; than in Brutes of what order or tribe soever: and that the Reason given hereof by the most accurate of our Modern Anatomists, is this; that the principal Nerve of the Midriff is rooted in the same Nerve of the Spine (named Nervus vertebralis) from whence there comes a conspicuous branch into the grand plexus of the Intercostal nerve; and that commonly two, sometimes three other branches more are derived from that same notable plexus, into the very trunk of the Nerve of the Diaphragm (as you may see most elegantly represented by Dr. Willis in the 9 th' Table of his most elaborate Book de Anatomia Cerebri) which are not found in Beasts. For, from this plenty and singular contexture of nerves, it may be conjectured, not only why the Diaphragm doth so readily conform its motions to those of the Praecordia, and of the Animal Spirits excited in passions of the Mind, and cooperate with them; but also why Risibility is an affection proper only to Man. For (as the same most curious Dr. Willis reasoneth, in his chapter of the functions and uses of the Intercostal pair of nerves) when the Imagination is affected with some pleasant and new conceit, instantly there is caused a brisk and placid motion of the heart, as if it sprung up with joy to be alleviated or eased of its burden. Wherefore that the blood may be the more speedily discharged out of the right Ventricle of the heart into the Lungs, and out of the left into the Aorta or grand Artery; the Diaphragm, being by abundance of Animal spirits immitted through so many nerves proceeding from the aforesaid Plexus, briskly agitated is by nimble contraction drawn upwards; and so making many vibrations, doth at once raise up the Lungs, and force them to expel the blood out of their vessels into the arteria venosa, and to explode the air out of their pipes into the windpipe; and this by frequent contractions of their lax and spongy substance, answerable in time and quickness to the vibrations of the Midriff. And then because the same Intercostal nerve, which communicateth with the nerve of the Diaphragm below, is conjoined above also with the nerves of the jaws and muscles of the face; thence it is, that the motions of Laughter being once begun in the breast, the face also is distorted into gestures or grimasces patheticaly correspondent thereunto. And this is the most probable account I am able at present to give of the occasions and motions of passionate Laughter in general: nor can I at present think of any more plausible conjecture concerning the reason of the admirable laughter of Ludovicus Vives, than this; that in him the nerves inservient to the motion of the Midriff, might be after such a peculiar manner contrived and framed, as easily to cause quick and short reciprocations thereof, upon the pleasant affection of his Imagination by the grateful relish of his meat, after long abstinence, which doth always heighten the pleasure of refection: But we have insisted too long upon the motions of joy..  

Art. 56. The Motions and Effects of Sorrow.  In the contrary whereof, viz. Grief or Sorrow (which we have above described to be an ingrateful languor of the Soul, from a conception of evil present, moving her to contract herself, that she may avoid it) the Animal Spirits are indeed recalled inward, but slowly and without violence: so that the blood being by degrees destitute of a sufficient influx of them, is trasmitted through the heart with too slow a motion. Whence the pulse is rendered little, slow, rare, and weak; and there is felt about the heart a certain oppressive strictness, as if the orifices of it were drawn together, with a manifest chillness congealing the blood, and communicating itself to the rest of the body. From which dejecting symptoms it is easy to collect, that this doleful affection, especially if it be vehement and of long continuance, cannot but infer many, and grievous incommodities to the whole body. For, besides this that it darkneth the spirits, and so dulls the wit, obscures the judgement, blunts the memory, and in a word beclouds the Lucid part of the Soul: it doth moreover incrassate the blood by refrigeration, and by that reason immoderately constringe the heart, cause the lamp of life to burn weakly and dimly, induce want of sleep by drying the brain, corrupt the nutritive juice, and convert it into that Devil of a humour, Melancholy. No wonder then if in men overcome with this so dismal passion, the countenance appears pale, wan and liveless; the limbs grow heavy and indisposed to motion, the flesh decays and consumes through want of nourishment, and the whole body be precipated into imbecility, Cachexy or an evil habit, languishing and other cold and chronic diseases. All which the wisest of Men, King Solomon, hath summed up in few words in 17 Chap. of his Proverbs, where he advertiseth, that a sorrowful spirit drieth up the very bones. And yet notwithstanding, it is very rarely found, that from Grief either long and obstinate, or violent and suddenly invading, any man hath fallen into a swoon, or been suddenly extinguished. Which I am apt to refer to this; that in the ventricles of the heart, though but very slowly commoved, there can hardly be so small a quantity of blood, but it may suffice to keep alive the vital flame burning therein, when the orifices of them are almost closed, as commonly they are by immoderate grief.  

Art. 57 Sighs and Tears.  Sometimes this bitter passion is signified by a certain uncomely distortion of the face, somewhat different from that of Laughter, and acompanied with Tears; sometimes only by Sighs: by Sighs, when the Grief is extreme: by Tears, when it is but moderate. For as Laughter never proceeds from great and profound Joy, so neither do Tears flow from profound sorrow; according to that of the Tragedian, leves curae loquuntur, ingentes stupent. Nor is weeping the pathognomonic or infallible sign of Grief, For, all tears are not voluntary; every light hurt or pain of the Eyes causing them to distil against our will: nor all voluntary ones the effect of Grief. Some weep for sudden joy joined with Love, especially old men: some when their Revenge is suddenly frustrated by the repentance and submission of the offender; and such are the tears of Reconciliation. Some again weep out of Anger, when they meet with a repulse or check of their desires, which causing them with regret to reflect upon their own weakness and insufficiency to compass their wills, affects them with displeasure, and dissolves them into tears, as if they fell out with themselves upon a sudden sense of their own defect: and this kind of weeping is most familiar to Children and Women when they are crossed in their wills and expectation; as also to Revengeful Men, upon their beholding of those whom they commiserate, and their want of power to help them. Notwithstanding the Occasions of weeping be thus various, yet since Tears are frequently both an effect and testimony of sorrow, the nature and motions whereof we have now attempted to explain: it can be no impertinent Digression, to inquire further into their original or sours, and the manner how they are made to flow, when we are willing to signify our present sorrow by shedding them.  

Art. 58. Whence Tears flow.  As for the Fountain therefore whence all our Tears flow, and the Matter whereof they consist; the successful industry of Modern Anatomists hath discovered, that in the Glandules placed at each corner of the Eyes, there is either from the blood brought thither by the arteries (as the vulgar doctrine is) or (as I, upon good reasons elsewhere delivered, conceive) from the Nutritive juice brought by nerves, separated, and kept in store a certain thin, clear and watery humour, partly saline, partly subacid in taste; the use whereof is aswell to keep the globes of the eyes moist and slippery, for their more easy motion; as to serve for Tears when we have occasion to shed them. And to this some have added, that because there are certain branches of nerves (like the tendrels of a vine) encircling the vessels leading to and from those Glandules, and by their tension sometimes constringing them: therefore it is probable, that when the serous humour is too abundant in the blood brought into the brain, the same is by the arteries (whose pulse is quickened somewhat by the pressure of these nerves) brought more copiously than at other times, into those Glandules, and after its separation, there detained from returning by the veins, that are likewise straightened by constriction of the same nerves. Whether this ingenious conjecture be true or not; certain it is, that the Matter of Tears is the same with the liquor of the Lymphducts, and that they flow from the aforesaid Glandules, which are therefore named Lacrymales.  
And as for the manner of their Expression from thence in some passions of the Mind; 
Art. 59 How they are expressed.  the most rational account I have hitherto met with concerning it, is this. When any occasion of weeping occurrs, and affects the Sensitive Soul; instantly the Ventricles of the heart, with all the Praecordia, are by the blood in abundance brought into them, more than usualy crowded and distended, and the Lungs also stuffed and inflated, so that they cannot perform the action of respiration but by sobs intermixed; and the Midriff, to give room to such distension of the heart and Lungs, is pressed downward, with a more intense contraction alternately succeeding; which great depression and brisk contraction being repeated, is the efficient cause of Sobbing. and at the same time the air being with difficulty admitted into the lungs, by reason they and the Midriff are so exceedingly distended, and with no less difficulty exploded again by the windpipe: thence comes that whining sound of crying and howling. To this affection of the vitals, the parts of the face also, being distorted into a sad and mournful aspect, exactly correspond: because the nerves which contract the Praecordia, have a communion of continuity, and cooperate with those which are inserted into the muscles of the face, and which compose it into the postures of weeping and laughter in passion. Nor doth the disorder cease here, but extend itself to the upper region also, to the brain, where the Spirits being put into confusion, and the arteries surcharged with too great an afflux of blood from the oppressed heart; the palace of the Soul itself is brought into danger of a purple deluge. For prevention whereof, the nerves encircling and binding the trunks of the arteries in many places, strongly constringe them; so that the commotion of the blood is much repressed, the liquor thereof (in the beginning of the passion highly rarefied) suddenly condensed, and the serous part of it being put into a flux, is transmitted into the above mentioned Glandules of the Eyes, there placed and destined by nature to receive it. And then because these Glandules are in like manner constringed, and as it were squeezed by certain nerves that are of the same original and community with the Pathetic nerves of the face and heart: the serous liquor is expressed out of them through their excretory channels leading to the corners of the Eyes (most accurrately described, with their uses, by that diligent Anatomist Nichol. Steno, in a singular treatise) and forced to distil in a shower of tears; the strong Contraction of the membranes investing the whole brain, concurring to that expression.  
The same may be said likewise of the shedding tears for joy. 
Art. 60. The reason of weeping for joy..  For in sudden and great joy conjoined with Admiration, the Sensitive Soul very much expanding herself, and diffusing the Animal Spirits; the blood is sent from the heart in great abundance to the brain, so as to distend the vessels that contain it: which being soon after strongly contracted again by the same Soul withdrawing herself inward, (as if she feared a dissolution by so ample an Effusion) the blood is in a sort put into a flux or melted, and the serous part of it separated in the Glandules of the Eyes, and thence by constriction of the nerves squeezed forth in tears.  

Art. 61. Why Infants and Old men are more 〈◊〉 prone than others to shed tears.  This being supposed, it will not be difficult for us thence to infer, that Infants and Old Men are indeed more prone to weep than those of middle age: but for divers reasons. Old Men for the most part weep out of Love and joy together; because both these affections causing a great Effusion of the Sensitive Soul, and consequently a large apertion of the orifices or sluices of the heart; must therefore (especially where they are conjoined) cause also a transmission of the blood from thence to the brain in great abundance: and the blood being generaly more thin and diluted with serum in old men, must yield more matter for their tears. But Infants commonly weep out of mere Sorrow and vexation, such as is not accompanied with the least of Love: because the contraction of the Soul and nerves caused by sorrow, expresseth out of the blood (which is always abundant in children) brought by the arteries to the brain, a sufficient quantity of serum to replenish the Glandulae Lachrymales, and supply the source of their tears.  

Art. 62. The reason of Sighing and Sobbing.  There remains yet that other Sign of Sorrow, which doth usually accompany it when it is profound and extreme; and that is Sighing; the cause whereof is very much different from that of weeping, though both proceed from Grief. For, the same occasion that moves us to shed tears, when our Lungs are stuffed and distended with blood; provokes us also to fetch deep sighs, when they are almost empty, and when some sudden imagination of Hope or comfort opens the sluice of the Arteria Venosa in the lungs, which sorrow had lately contracted. For, then that little blood that remained in the lungs, in a moment passing down through that pipe into the left ventricle of the heart; the ambient air instantly rusheth by the mouth into the lungs, to replenish that place the blood had left free: and this great and quick repletion of the lungs with air, is what we call Sighing.  
You have now heard what Conjectures seem to me most consentaneous to reason and Anatomical observations, concerning the Corporeal Motions excited in those two eminent passions, Joy and Sorrow, with their usual Adjuncts, Laughter and weeping: be pleased to hear also a few words touching the more violent motions proper to Anger, which I have promised next to consider. 
Art. 63. The Motions and Symptoms of Anger.   
That the Effects of this most vehement Commotion of the Sensitive Soul are various, not only as the occasion or injury is conceived to be greater or less; but also according to the various temperaments of persons, and to the diversity of other Passions conjoined therewith: is obvious to common observation, and we have already hinted. And from this variety it is, that men have distinguished Anger into Harmless and Dangerous, or simple heat of blood, and thirst after Revenge: assigning moreover to each sort its proper Signs or Characters observable in the outward parts of the body, and especially in the face. For some when they are angry, look pale, or tremble; others grow red, or weep: and the vulgar judgeth the passion of the first sort to be much more dangerous, than that of the other. Whereof the reason may be this; that when we either will not, or cannot show our resentments, and revenge otherwise than by our change of countenance, and by words; we than put forth all our heat, and exert all our force at the very beginning of the commotion; so that the blood being in this sudden effort copiously effused from the heart into the face. and there detained a while by constriction of the veins by those Branches of the Fifth pair of nerves that are inserted into the muscles of that part; we are forced to appear in the scarlet livery of shame, that is, to blush out of indignation and regret or grief at the unworthy affront. And sometimes the first emotion of desire to vindicate ourselves, together with commiseration of our own want of power to revenge more effectually, causeth us also to shed tears.  
But they who on the contrary, reserve themselves for, and strongly resolve upon revenge in time to come, grow deeply sad and pensive at the present; as conceiving themselves thereunto obliged by the nature of the injury done to them, and casting about in their thoughts how to accomplish their revenge: and all this while the Sensitive Soul persisting in her Contraction and revocation of the Spirits inwards, there is no extraordinary, nay but little diffusion of the blood outwards. And sometimes they also fear the evils that may ensue from the revenge they intent; which strikes them into paleness, shivering and trembling: the Sensitive Soul being then distracted betwixt the contrary motions of desire of revenge, and of fear of the ill consequents thereof; like a Sea beaten by two contrary winds. Yet after this first conflict is over, when they come to execute their revenge, then fear giving place to rage, they soon grow the more inflamed and daring, by how much the colder they were during their deliberation: as in Fevers that invade with cold and shivering, the following heats are always most ardent and unquenchable. You see then how the Motions, and consequently the Efforts and Effects of this violent passion may be diversified even by diversity of other affections conjoined therewith. For in the Harmless and Blushing or Weeping anger, there is always a mixture of shame and self-pity; which by allaying the desire of revenge, helpeth much to check and moderate the commotion of the blood; and therefore such anger seldom lasteth long, and is more easily composed: when on the other side, in the Pale and Trembling, but Dangerous anger, there is first deep Indignation, then Fear, and at last Furious pursuit of revenge; by which the blood being most violently agitated, and the sulphureous parts of it all kindled into a flame, is not to be calmed and reduced to temper, unless by the pleasure of revenge, or by triumph in the submission of the Enemy, or by the cold damp of repentance. For prevention of which most bitter passion, by moderating our Anger; I think myself in Charity obliged to conclude this argument with an excellent Moral remark of Monsieur des Cartes.  
Although the passion of Anger be in itself useful, 
Art. 64. ●xcess of Anger, to be avoided; and that chiefly by the help of true Generosity.  in that it inspires us with vigour and courage necessary to repel injuries: yet the Excesses of no other passion are with greater care and caution to be shunned. Because by perturbing our judgement, they often induce us into those errors, whereof we ought afterward dearly to repent: yea sometimes they hinder us from repelling injuries so safely and honourably, as otherwise we might, if we were less commoved. But as nothing doth more increase the flame of Anger, than Pride: so (I am persuaded) nothing can more abate and restrain the Excesses of it, than true Generosity. Because while Generosity makes us to have but little value for all things that may be taken from us; and on the other side, to prise above all temporal things, our Liberty and Empire over ourselves, which is lost when we are capable to be hurt by an other: it makes us with Contempt alone, or at most with Indignation to revenge those injuries, with which weaker minds are wont to be offended. ¶  
Being now at length arrived at the end of this my divertising Exercise, wherein I proposed to myself to inquire into the Occasions, Causes, Differences, Motions and Effects of the most powerful and remarkable of all the Passions, by which the Mind of Man is apt to be perturbed; so far as my weak understanding assisted by reading and meditation would permit: before I lay aside my pen, I find it requisite to advertise you briefly of two things, one whereof may conduce to your more easy comprehension of what I have hitherto delivered concerning the more general Differences of the Passions; the other may serve to my exemption from the censure of the Illiterate.  

Art. 65. That of all the Passions hitherto considered, only six are Simple; the rest Mixed.  The First is, that of all the Passions recounted and described in this impolite discourse, there are only six that seem to be Simple and Principal, namely Admiration, Love, Hatred, Desire, joy and Grief; which are therefore said to be Simple, because they consist of only one single act or commotion of the Sensitive Soul disturbed with the apprehension of things whether real or imaginary. For, as to all the rest; either they are but various species of those Simple ones, or they result from divers mixtures and combinations of them; being therefore named Mixed Passions, because they consist of more than one act or Motion. If therefore I have chiefly considered the Nature, motions, and principal Effects of the Six Simple or Primitive passions; contenting myself only with a brief Genealogy of the Compound or Derivative, as sufficient to direct your cogitations to the various Mixed commotions whence they result: it was only lest I might abuse your patience by undecent repetitions, or oppress your mind with too great multiplicity of particulars, which is none of the least impediments of Science.  
The Other is, 
Art. 65. Reasons against publication of this discourse.  that notwithstanding the Excellency, and singular Utility of the Argument whereof I have treated in this Discourse; yet seeing my design in composing it, hath been partly to render my present solitude less tedious to myself, and chiefly to give you some testimony that I convert not my leisure into idleness: You ought not to frustrate my confidence of your secrecy, or to expose my defects, by communicating these papers to Others. Not to Philosophers, lest they find nothing new in them but my Lapses. Not to the Unlearned, because they are incompetent judges of truth or error, especially in such Philosophical Inquiries; more addicted to barbarous contempt of Knowledge in others, than to confess ignorance in themselves. To These therefore (you may be most assured) I am not ambitious you should recommend this Treatise, wherein is contained nothing that can either please, or reform them. I know it is no less difficult to teach them the art of regulating their exorbitant Passions, than it is to bring them to prefer the severe dictates of reason, to the flattering suggestions of Sense; or to convince them, that realy nothing is pleasant, but what is also honest; nothing very desirable, but the right use of their freedom of will; nothing formidable, but the evil they themselves commit. I know, that in the Vulgar, Religion is fear; constancy, brutish obstinacy; zeal, pride; friendship, interest; and virtue itself but dissimulation. I know also, that the multitude is not led by merit, but carried headlong by prejudice, to praise or dispraise: and that they are more propens to malignity and detraction, than to charity and candour. The Vulgar then, and all that herd with them, I exclude from my studies; lest by perversely interpreting them (as they do all things) they should interrupt my tranquillity, which I value infinitely above their favour, and wherein I endeavour to find a happiness, which neither their hatred, nor the iniquity of Fortune shall take from me.  
That I may find this the sooner, I now and then entertain myself with serious reflections upon my own defects, as the only impediments that have hitherto hindered me from attaining unto it: and among the rest, I hold my mind longest fixed on this following Meditation: which I therefore freely impart to you who are my Friend, both because I think it may be of equal use to you also, by helping you to moderate your Affections to the transitory things of this shadow of life; and because the precedent discourse will perhaps be somewhat the less imperfect, after it hath received so pertinent a   

CONCLUSION.  

Art. 1. That all the Good and Evil of this life depends upon the Passions:  THat all the Good and Evil of this life depends upon the various Passions incident to the Mind of Man; I need no other document than my own dearly bought Experience: which hath too often convinced me, that while I out of weakness suffered myself to be seduced and transported by the ardour and excesses of my Affections, I have fallen into Errors, that have more dejected my spirit, than a long succession of infortunes could ever do; and from whence I could not expect better fruit, than that of shame, sorrow and repentance.  

Art 2. Which yet were instituted by Nature as incitements to the Soul.  Notwithstanding this, I ought not to be so unjust, so ingrateful to Nature, as to transfer the blame of such Errors upon her; as if she had been less careful than she might have been, to secure Man from infelicity: only because she thought fit to make him obnoxious to so great a multitude of inward Perturbations. No, I ought rather to remember, that among all of them, there is no one but hath its Use, and that a good one too: provided we rightly employ the forces Nature hath given us, to keep it within the bounds of Moderation. And it may suffice to Nature's vindication, that reason obligeth me to acknowledge, that her design in instituting our Passions, was in the general this; that they might dispose and incite the Soul to affect and desire those things, which Nature by secret dictates teacheth to be good and profitable to her; and to persist in that desire: as the same commotion of the spirits that is requisite to produce them, doth dispose the parts of the Body also to those motions that serve to the execution of her will. And hence doubtless it is, that they who are naturaly most apt to be moved by passions, have this advantage above others of duller and grosser constitutions, that they may (if they will) taste more of the pleasures belonging to the Sensitive Soul: but then again they are likewise thereby more exposed to drink of the gall and wormwood of pain and remorse, when they know not how to regulate their passions, and when adverse Fortune invades them. I am confirmed then, that because man is constituted propens to Passions, he is not therefore the less perfect, but rather the more capable of pleasure from the right use of the good things of this life: and by consequence, that Nature by making him 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, hath therein signalised both her wisdom and indulgence.  

Art. 3. That we are prone to Errors, not from want of an omniscious understanding:  But had he not been more perfect, if it had pleased his Creator to endow him moreover with such Excellency above all other Animals, as might have secured him from committing Errors through the violent instigation of his Passions, whenever they should incite him to desire and pursue things not realy, but only apparently good for him? Certainly no. For it is not only impious, but highly absurd, to imagine that God can be Author of our Errors, because he hath not given to us an Understanding Omniscious: for it is of the formal reason of a created intellect, that it be finite; and of a finite intellect, that it extend not itself to all things. But that Man should have a Will unconfined or extensible to all things, this indeed is convenient to his nature: and it is a transcendent perfection in him, that he can and doth act by his own will, that is freely; and so is, by a peculiar prerogative, Author of his own actions, and may deserve praise and reward for them. For no Man praiseth a Watch, or any other Selfmoving engine made by art, for performing the motions thereby designed; because those motions necessarily result from the figure and construction of its parts: but the Artist himself deserves praise, because he framed the engine not by necessity or compulsion, but freely. So we by the same reason deserve the more by well doing, that is by embracing truth, because we do it voluntary or by election; than we should, if we could not but do it. When therefore we fall into Errors, occasioned by our Passions; the defect lieth in our own act, or in the use of our liberty, not in our nature: for that is the same when we make an erroneous judgement of things represented to us, as it is when we make a right judgement. And although Almighty God might, if He had thought good, have given so great perspicacity to our Understanding, as that we could never have been deceived: yet by what right can we require that privilege from him? True it is (I confess) that among us Men, if any hath power to hinder this or that evil, and yet doth not hinder it; we accuse him as cause of it: and justly too, because the power that Men have one over others, was instituted, and committed to them to that end, that they should use it to the restraining of others from evil. But there is not the same reason why we should think God to be Author of our Errors, only because it was in His power to have prevented them, by making us superior to deception: for the power that God hath of right over all Men, is most sovereign, most absolute, most free. And therefore we are obliged to ascribe to His Divine Majesty, all possible praise and thanks for the good gifts He hath out of his infinite benignity been pleased to bestow upon us his Creatures: but we have no pretext of right to complain, because He hath not conferred upon us all things that we conceive he might.  
Besides, although the Intellect of Man be not omniscious; 
Art. 4. But from our ill use of that understanding we have, in the conduct of our desires suggested by passions.  yet is it not so narrow, so limited, as not to extend to the conduct of his Unlimited Will, in the Election of Good, and avoidance of Evil; and consequently to his exemption from Error by the violence of his Passions. For, first, by virtue of his Understanding, Man is capable of Wisdom, which is alone able to teach him how to subdue and govern all his Affections, and how to dispense them with such dexterity, as not only to make all the Evils they produce, easily tolerable, but even to reap internal satisfaction and joy from all. And secondly, it is evident from the very nature of our Passions, that they cannot carry us on to any actions whatsoever, but only by the Desire they excite in us: and therefore if we can but direct that desire to right objects, that is to things realy Good; we may by that alone prevent our being deceived, that is our being carried to evil actions by violence of our Passions: but that Right Reason is of itself able so to direct our desire arising from passions, is manifest from the known Utility of Moral Philosophy, which prescribeth certain rules to that end. I will conclude then, that I commit Errors in passion, not because I am naturally prone to Passions, nor because I want an omniscious Understanding: but only because I make not a right use of that finite indeed, yet sufficient Understanding God hath given me, 
Art. 5. That all Errors to which the desires excited by our Passions, expose us, arise from hence, that we do not sufficiently distinguish things that depend entirely upon ourselves, from those that depend upon others.  in the conduct of that Cupidity my passions excite in me.  
That I may therefore be henceforth better able to make use of my Understanding as I ought, in such occasions; it highly concerneth me to inquire in the next place, into the origin of that Error, to which the Cupidity accompanying our Passions, doth most frequently expose us: for, that being once known, will be the more easily avoidable. This Error than doth arise (if I mistake not) from hence; that we do not sufficiently distinguish those things that depend entirely upon ourselves, from those that depend upon others, as to their events: it being a general rule, that Desire is always good, when grounded upon certain Knowledge; and on the contrary always evil, when founded upon some error. Now as to things that depend upon ourselves alone, that is upon our freewill; to know them to be good, is sufficient to assure us we cannot desire them too fervently: because to do good things that depend upon ourselves, is to pursue Virtue, which cannot be too fervently desired, nor can the event of our desire of such things possibly be unhappy, because from the conscience that by desiring them we have rightly used the freedom of our will, we receive all the satisfaction we expected. But alas! the Error that is too commonly committed in such cases, lieth not in the over fervent, but in the overcold desire. And the best remedy against this defect, is to free the mind as much as is possible, from all other desires less profitable; and then to endeavour clearly to understand, and with due attention to examine the goodness of the thing that is represented as worthy to be desired.  
As for the things that are altogether independent upon Us; 
Art. 6. And that they may be prevented by two General Remedies, viz. Generosity.  however good they may be, yet we are never to desire them vehemently: not only because 'tis possible they may never arrive, and so vex and torment the mind so much the more bitterly, by how much the more eagerly they have been desired; but chiefly because by preoccupating our thoughts, they withdraw our study from other things whereof the acquisition depends upon ourselves. And against these vain desires there are two general Remedies; whereof the first is true Generosity; the other, a firm belief of, and tranquil dependence upon Providence Divine. For, that noble and heroic habit of the mind, which is called Generosity, and which seems to comprehend all other Virtues; though it animateth Men to great and honourable enterprises, doth yet at the same time restrain them from attempting things which they conceive themselves incapable to effect; inspiring courage, not temerity. Then by teaching, that nothing is either more worthy of, or more delightful to a spirit elevated by the love of Virtue, above the vulgar, that to do good to others; and in order thereunto, to prefer beneficence to self-interest: it makes us perfectly charitable, benign, affable, and ready to oblige every one by good offices, when it is in our power so to do. Again, being inseparable from virtuous Humility, it makes us both to measure our own Merits by the impartial rule of right reason, and to know that we can have no just right to praise or reward, but from the genuine and lau●●ble use of the freedom of our▪ Will. And from these and other the like excellent effects of this divine Virtue, it is that the Generous attain to an absolute dominion over their exorbitant passions and desires. They conquer jealousy and Envy, by considering, that nothing whereof the acquisition depends not wholly upon themselves, is realy valuable enough to justify their earnest desire of it. They exempt themselves from Hatred towards any, by esteeming all as worthy of love as themselves. They admit no Fear, by being duly conscious of their own innocency, and secure in the confidence of their own Virtue. They banish Grief, by remembering that while they conserve their will to do good, they can be deprived of nothing that is properly theirs. And Anger they exclude, because little esteeming whatsoever depends upon others, they never yield so much to their Adversaries, as to acknowledge themselves within the reach of their injuries. It is not then without reason, that I fix upon Generosity, as one of the universal remedies against our inordinate Cupidities. And  
As for the other, 
Art. 7. And frequent reflections upon Providence Divine.  namely frequent reflection upon Providence Divine; this doubtless must likewise be of sovereign efficacy to preserve us from all distempers of mind. For, it establish us in a certain persuasion, that it is absolutely impossible that any thing should come to pass otherwise than this Providence hath from all eternity determined: and consequently, that Fortune is but a Chimaera, hatched in the brain out of an Error of human understanding, and nourished by popular superstition. For, we cannot desire any thing, unless we first think the same to be some way or other possible: nor can we think those things to be possible, that depend not upon us, unless so far as we imagine them to depend upon Fortune, and that the like have happened in times past. But this opinion proceeds only from hence, that we know not all the Causes that concur to single Effects. For, when a thing that we have apprehended to depend upon Fortune, and so to be possible, succeeds not: that is a certain sign, that some one of the Causes necessary to make it succeed or come to pass, hath been wanting; and consequently, that the same was absolutely impossible; as also that the like event, that is such a one to the production whereof the like necessary Cause was wanting, hath never come to pass. So that had we not been ignorant of that deficient Cause, we never had thought that event to be possible, nor by consequence ever desired it.  

Art. 8. Which utterly excludeth Fortune, but leaveth us at liberty to direct our desires.  We are therefore utterly to renounce that vulgar absurdity, that there is in the World a certain Power called Fortune, that makes things to happen or not to happen as she pleaseth: and in the ●oom thereof to establish this great verity, that all things are directed by Divine Providence, whose decree is so infallible and immutable, that excepting those things which the same decree hath left to depend upon our Will, we ought to think, that in respect of Us, nothing doth or can come to pass, that is not necessary, and in some measure fatal: so that we cannot without error desire any thing should come to pass otherwise than it doth. But forasmuch as our desires for the most part extend to things that depend neither wholly upon us, nor wholly upon others: therefore we ought in them to distinguish exactly what dependeth entirely upon ourselves, that so we may extend our desires to that alone. And as for the rest; though we ought to look upon the success as fatal and immutable, lest we place our desire thereupon: yet ought we also seriously to weigh and consider the reasons that suggest more or less hope, that they may serve to direct our actions accordingly. For reason requires we should follow the more probable and safe way to our end: and when we have done so; whatever the Event be, we ought contentedly to acquiesce in this, that we have done what our Understanding judged to be best. And truly when we have learned thus to distinguish Providence Divine from Fortune, we shall easily acquire a habit of directing our desires in such a manner, that because the accomplishment of them depends upon ourselves only, they may always afford us full satisfaction. 
Art. 9 How we may expedite ourselves from the difficulties that seem to make the decree of Divine Providence irreconcilable to the liberty of our will.   
But do we not here entangle ourselves in great difficulties, by endevoring thus to reconcile this eternal Preordination of God, to the Liberty of our Will? we do, I confess; but conceive withal, that we may disentangle ourselves again, by remembering, that our Understanding is finite, but the power of God by which He hath from eternity not only foreknown all things that are or can possibly be, but also willed and preordained them so to be, is infinite: and then that it is enough for us, clearly and distinctly to know that this infinite Power is essentialy in God; but too much for us so to comprehend the same, as to see in what manner it leaveth the actions of Men undermined and free. For of the Liberty or indifferency that is in us, we are all so conscious within ourselves, that there is nothing we can comprehend more evidently, more perfectly. And it were absurd, because we cannot comprehend one thing which we know to be of its own nature incomprehensible to us; therefore to doubt of another which we do intimately comprehend, and by daily experience find to be in ourselves.  
Again, since we thus know most certainly, that all our Errors depend upon our Will; 
Art. 10. How it comes that we are often deceived by our will▪ though we are never deceived with ou● will.  is it not wonderfully strange that we are ever deceived, when no Man is willing to be deceived▪ 'Tis so indeed; but nevertheless the Problem seems capable of solution by considering, that it is one thing to be willing to be deceived, and another to be willing to give assent to those things wherein it hapens that error is found. And though there be no Man, who is expressly willing to be deceived: yet there is scarcely any, who is not often willing to assent to those things wherein error is, unknown to him, contained. Yea it often falls out; that the very desire of attaining to truth, causeth those who do not rightly know by what way it is to be attained, to give judgement of things they do not clearly perceive, and so to err. So that the sum of all this perplex and intricate matter is this, that Error ariseth from our assent to things whose truth or falsity, good or evil, we have not clearly and distinctly discerned. For, since God cannot without impious absurdity be imagined to be Author of deceit, the faculty He hath given us of perceiving and discerning, cannot naturaly tend to falsity: as neither can our faculty of assenting, that is our will, when it extends itself only to those things that are clearly perceived. Whence it follows, that to direct our desires aright, our main business must be to employ our Understanding or faculty of discerning, strictly and attentively to examine and consider the goodness of the objects, before we determine our Will upon them: wherein doth chiefly consist the use of all Moral Wisdom, and whereupon great part of our temporal Felicity dependeth.  

Art. 11. A third general Remedy against Error occasioned by inordinate Passions, viz. Premeditation and Deliberation.  But do not I here propose a lesson very hard to human frailty to learn? Is it not extremely difficult thus accurrately and calmly to examine things, when the imagination is vehemently commoved by the object of some more violent passion, and the judgement strongly surprised? I acknowledge it to be difficult indeed: but this difficulty hath its proper Remedy, namely Premeditation and Deliberation. I find in myself (and so do all Men, I believe) that the motions raised in my blood by the objects of my affections, do so promptly follow upon the first impressions made by them in my brain, and from the mechanical disposition of the organs of my body, though my Soul contribute nothing toward their advancement, but continues indifferent; that all the wisdom I can call to my assistance, is not sufficient to resist and arrest them. And others there are, I know, who being naturaly propens to the commotions of Joy, or of Commiseration, or Terror, or Anger; have not the power to refrain themselves from swooning, or tears, or trembling, or heat of blood, whenever their Fancy is vehemently assaulted by objects apt to excite those Passions. Nay, as if all Mankind were equally subject to the same defect, it is held for a Maxim, that the firs● motions of our passions are not in our power. And yet notwithstanding, this so universal defect is not incurable by Premeditation and care. When therefore we first feel any such strong commotion of our blood, we ought to be premonished and to remember, that all things that offer themselves to the imagination, respect only the deception of the Reasonable Soul, and to persuade her that the reasons which serve to recommend the object of her passion, are far more firm and considerable than in reality they are: and on the contrary, that those which serve to discommend it, are much weaker and less considerable than in truth they are. And when Passion comes at length to persuade us to do those things whose execution admits of any the least pause or delay: we must remember to abstain from giving judgement concerning them, much less assent to them, and to avert our cogitations to other things, until time and quiet have wholly composed the commotion in our blood. Finaly, when heat of passion inciteth us to actions that allow little or no time for counsel or deliberation; in this case we are to convert our will chiefly upon following those reasons that are contrary to what that passion suggesteth, although they appear less valid. So when an Enemy invades us unexpectedly, that sudden occasion permits us not to take time for deliberation whether of the three is best, to resist, to submit, or to fly. Here therefore, when we feel ourselves surprised with fear; we should endeavour to avert our thoughts from the consideration of the danger, and fix them upon the reasons for which there is greater security and honour in resistance than in flight: and on the contrary, when we perceive ourselves to be by anger and desire of revenge provoked to rush turiously upon him who assaults us; we must remember to think, that it is great imprudence to precipitate one's self into manifest danger, when safety may be obtained without infamy: and where we are inferior to the Aggressor in point of strength, there we are likewise to consider, that it is better to retreat honourably, or to consent to terms of submission, than like a wild beast to expose ourselves to certain death. This therefore I ought to prescribe to myself, as a Third Pancreston or Universal Antidote against the incommodities impendent from Passions; viz. to give myself time for deliberation, where the occasion will allow it: and where it will not, there to convert my thought chiefly upon the reasons that contradict the suggestions of my passion: and always to remember that the reasons that offer themselves to recommend the object of my passion, are not realy so valid and considerable, as my imagination represents them to be. Nor doth this counsel seem difficult to be put in practice, especially by considerate Men and such who are wont to make serious reflections upon their actions.  
But what need I thus perplex my thoughts in searching for Medicines to mitigate the violence of Passions, 
Art. 12. A fourth universal Remedy, viz. the constant exercise of Virtue.  when there is one singular Remedy infallibly sufficient to secure us from all the Evils they can possibly occasion, and that is the constant exercise of Virtue? For, seeing that the internal commotions of the Reasonable Soul touch us more nearly, and by consequence are much more prevalent over us, than the affections of the Sensitive, which though different from, are yet many times conjoined with them: most certain it is, that all the tumults raised in the Sensitive, have no power to perturb the tranquillity of her Superior, the Rational, provided she have reason to be in peace and content within herself; but serve rather to augment her Joy, by giving her occasions to know and delight in her own perfection, as often as she finds herself much above any the least discomposure or disturbance from them. And that she may be thus content within herself, she need do no more but entirely addict herself to the love and pursuit of Virtue. For, whoever hath so lived, that his conscience cannot accuse him of ever neglecting to do those things which he judged to be best (which is exactly to follow the conduct of Virtue) this Man doth from thence receive that intellectual joy and satisfaction, which is of such sovereign power to make him happy, that the most violent commotions of his affections can never be of force enough to perturb the tranquillity of his Soul; and which being the Summum Bonum of human life, is not to be attained (as Seneca from his oracle Epicurus most judiciously observes, Epist. 23.) nisi ex bona conscientia, ex honestis consiliis, ex rectis actionibus, ex contemptu fortuitorum, ex placido vitae ac continuo tenore unam prementis viam. Nor is there indeed any other internal satisfaction or joy belonging to the Rational Soul, but what she thus formeth to herself out of herself; and what can therefore be no more interrupted than she can be destroyed: the assurance whereof made the fame Seneca say (Epist. 27.) Sola virtus praestat gaudium perpetuum, securum: etiam si quid obstat, nubium modo intervenit, quae infra feruntur, nec unquam diem vincunt.  
And these, my dear friend, 
Art. 13. The study of Epicurus' Morals recommended  are some of those Philosophical considerations upon which I sometimes reflect (as I lately told you) as Universal and Efficacious Remedies against vain desires suggested by our Passions, and the various Evils to which they usualy expose us. Which now you have with so great patience heard; 'tis fit I should gratefully resign you to a more profitable conversation with your own thoughts, which I know to be for the most part employed in the study of things noble and worthy your excellent wit. But first, lest you should think I do it somewhat abruptly, and by omitting to prescribe also Special Preservatives proper to the excesses of each particular Affection, end this discourse before I have finished it: suffer me in a word to advertise you, that I make this omission, not from incogitancy, nor out of weariness, but only for your greater benefit. For, being of opinion, that the Ethics of Epicurus are (after Holy writ) the best Dispensatory I have hitherto read, of Natural Medicines for all distempers incident to the mind of Man: I conceive, I may do you better service by recommending that Book to your serious perusal, than by writing less accurately of the same most weighty argument. This therefore I now do; not doubting but that in the Morals of that grave and profound Philosopher, you will find as good Precepts for the moderating your Passions, as Human wisdom can give.  
FINIS.