THE TRUE EFFIGIES OF THE Monster of Malmesbury: OR, THOMAS HOBBES IN HIS PROPER COLOURS. LONDON, Printed in the Year, 1680. TO THE READER. I Desire thou shouldst understand that the Author of the following Verses against Mr. Hobbes, about Twenty Years since conceived that Indignation against him, and that Hatred of his Illogical and Atheistical Genius which he has here Expressed, and that he Avers that it is both the Effect of the DARKNESS of this Man's Heart, and the Cause of the Increase of it, that he holds that there cannot be an Idea of an Infinite Being. I cannot think of any other of his wicked Conceits, but what has been abundantly confuted by one or other of his Learned Adversaries; but I have not observed that this hath been taken notice of by any one except Des Cartes; wherefore I shall desire the Ingenious Reader to bestow his utmost Intention on these Words, which the Author of these Verses delivered in a Discourse to a great Auditory about seven years since: But my hardest Task is yet behind, viz. to Prove, as to a stubborn Atheist, that there is a GOD. Many men declare that they have in their minds the Idea or Notion of GOD, that is to say, of a Being Absolutely Infinite: I say many men declare that they have the Idea of this Being, therefore certainly there is such a Being. How, may some say? This is a fine Argument indeed; It is so, because Many Men think it is so. Why may not that which you call an Idea of GOD, be nothing else but a mere Conceit or Figment of the Mind. To this we answer, that we undertake to Demonstrate that it is not a mere Conceit, etc. which we apprehend under these Terms, A Being Absolutely Infinite. If it were a mere Conceit, an Ens Rationis, or Empty Notion, than this Proposition would be True: Some mere Conceit or Figment of the Mind is That which the Mind may Apprehend under these Terms, A Being, etc. But that we Prove to be False, thus; That which 'tis possible for the Mind to comprehend, and to know for certain that 'tis nothing else but what it works or frames to itself, is not That which the Mind may Apprehend under these Terms, A Being Absolutely Infinite: Every mere Conceit, Ens Rationis, or Figment of the Mind is that which 'tis possible for the Mind to comprehend, etc. therefore No mere Conceit, etc. is That which the Mind may Apprehend under these Terms, A Being Absolutely Infinite. By these Words 'tis possible for the Mind to comprehend, I mean, As to the Utmost Extent of its Natural Capacity: not but that it may be Impossible for the Mind by reason of some Accidental Defect to Comprehend its own Operation: Absolutely Infinite plainly implies All Excellency and Perfection that we can Understand, and That which Infinitely Transcends our Understanding. We know nothing more certainly than this, that Our Holy One is Incomprehensible: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, says that Incomparable Divine St. Gregory Nazianzen, And now I shall demonstrate to All Christians that there is an Idea, or Notion of God in the Minds of All men: And by this it will appear that 'tis very Indiscreet (not to say Wicked) for any Christian to slight this Argument for the Conviction of the Madness of Atheism. I do not wonder to see it slighted by that Monster, the Father of the Leviathan, or by his Friend Gassendus, who has such Abominable Gross Conceits of the Deity, that 'twould look like a kind of Profaneness to mention them in English before such a Promiscuous Auditory. But this I shall say in scorn of those Ugly things which this New Philosopher, and New Divine has written in opposition to Des Cartes; that it is not strange that he who writes the Life of Gassendus, says of Hobbes, that he was Gassendo charissimus, But let these men, and the Admirers of their rare Metaphysics Prate what they please, we know & are assured that these words were dictated to St. Paul by the Holy Ghost, Rom. 1.15. Which show the work of the Law written in their hearts. He speaks of the Gentiles, which have not the Law, that is, (says the truly Learned, and Pious Doctor Hammond) which have not that Revelation of Gods Will and Law which the jews had. By the work of the Law we understand That which the Law Requires to be done, which our Saviour reduces to these Two Heads, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God, etc. And thy Neighbour as thyself. What can be more evident than this, that in the work of the Law written in the Hearts of Men there is implied an Idea, or Notion of God? sith the Principal work of the Law is, To Love God, which Pythagoras, and his Followers declare to be Written in their Hearts by that celebrated Saying of theirs 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Follow God. What a shame is it for any Christian not to Reflect upon the Brightness of his own Soul, Illustrated by this Splendid Notion of the Deity, so as to despise All the Glories of this perishing World! But, alas, the Perverseness of our Wills averts our Understanding from reflecting on its own Light. Shine upon us, we beseech thee, O Father of Lights, in the Face of JESUS CHRIST, the Brightness of thy Glory, that in thy Light we may see Light. Here I shall mind you of those Two Sacred Arguments to Demonstrate the Deity, which the Psalmist uses in Ps. 19 to wit, the Light of the Visible World, and the Purity of the Law of GOD, that Spiritual Light that proceeds from the Sun of Righteousness, the Sun of the Invisible world, Psal. 19.1, 2, 3, etc. The Apostle says expressly, Rom. 1.20. The Invisible things of him from the Creation of the World are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his Eternal Power and Godhead. And as for the Law of God, the Holy Scriptures, whosoever reads them with All Diligence, and compares what he Reads with what he Sees in the World, and what he often Feels in his own Soul, he will certainly cry out with the Blessed Psalmist, Verily there is a Reward for the Righteous; verily he is a God that Judgeth in the Earth. And now I shall mention another of Mr. Hobbes' wicked Conceits, that thou mayst more clearly perceive the justice of that vehement Indignation I have against him. In his late Pamphlet entiuled An Historical Narrative concerning Heresy, p. 11. He shows that he would fain have this Doctrine go for a piece of POPERY, viz. That a man's Will and Purpose to commit Sin, does not proceed from God, but originally from himself or from the Devil. Unhappy man, who endeavours so plainly and openly to slain the Glory of the HOLY ONE! and to Reconcile us to Sin, the Only Absolute EVIL! For he can never Rationally conclude that Sin deserves our utmost Hatred, who has a Conceit that it Proceeds from GOD. The Spring and Original of all Sin is SELF-WILL, Sin being an Aversion from GOD, whilst the Will of the Creature Affects Itself, and not the Will of the Creator, as the Prime Motive in its Tendency or Inclination. Mr. Hobbes may call this Nonsense, or what he pleases; but he shall quickly Know that 'tis a Truth of the greatest Importance. I grant that He has a very Elegant Style both in English and Latin, Prose and Verse: But his Leviathan, and other Books of his are so full of Madness and Folly, that 'tis impossible they should be so Taking as they are, but that the Practices of so Many even of them that have Named the Name of CHRIST, are so Agreeable to His Notions. But the time draws on apace when He & his Followers shall Know that the LORD our God will not be Mocked, and that he will Hear the Voice of his Church, crying unto him, Arise, O God, plead thine own Cause, remember how the Foolish man Reproacheth thee daily. Mr. COWLEY's VERSES In PRAISE of M R. HOBBES, OPPOSED; By a Lover of Truth and Virtue. Idcirco Virtus medio jacet obruta coeno: Nequitiae classes candida vela ferunt. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉— — 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 — 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Sint nunquam mihi tales Mores jupiter Pater: sed viis Simplicibus vitae insistam— Laudans Laudanda, Vituperiumque Inspergen; Improbis. PIND. NEM. ODE VIII. LONDON, Printed in the Year, 1680. To Mr. HOBBES (1) VAst Bodies of Philosophy I oft have seen, and read, But all are Bodies dead, Or Bodies by Art fashioned: I never yet the Living Soul could see But in thy Books, and thee. 'Tis only God can know Whether the fair Idea thou dost show, Agree entirely with his own, or no. This I dare boldly tell, 'Tis so like Truth 'twill serve our turn as well. Just as in * Nature thy Proportions be, As full of Concord their Variety; As firm the parts upon their Centre rest, And all so Solid are, that they at least As much as Nature, Emptiness detest. (2) What Bodies of Philosophy You oft have seen, and read, I wish you had but mentioned, we'd judge if they're alive, or dead: We cannot judge before we Try. The Morals of the Stagirite Are Stars which to th' Dark World gave Light, But Hobbes by his would turn our Day to Night. Great Zenophon, and Plato, who relate, How Socrates embraced his Fate, And all the Brave Socratic Race, Whose Monuments Time can't deface, Shall live, when Hobbes shall have his Doom, So Lie as dead, as doth TOM THUMB: Good Men his Knavery spy: His Books contain some Truths, and many a Lie, Some Truths well known, but strange Impiety. * Stay! stay! where now fond Lad! Thy Wit thus strained, thou'rt ten times worse than Mad. What's Nature but the Ordinary way Wherein our Good Creator doth display His Power, and Wisdom in the things he made For his own Goodness sake? Man's not a Shade, But utter Darkness, whilst he acts alone, Whilst his works are not natures; but his own: What! Hobbes, and Nature thus to parallel! What's this but to confront Bright Heaven with Hell! So doth the Poet's wit suit with his Theme: He that will Hobbes Applaud must first Blaspheme. (2) Long did the mighty Stagirite retain The universal Intellectual Reign, Saw his own Countries short-lived Leopard slain; The stronger Roman Eagle did outfly, Oftener renewed his Age, and saw that Dye. Mecha itself in spite of Mahomet possessed, And chased by a wild Deluge from the East, His Monarchy new planted in the West. But as in time each great Imperial Race Degenerates, and gives some new one place: So did this Noble Empire waist, Sunk by degrees from Glories past, And in the School-mens hands perished quite at last. Then nought, but words it grew, And those all Barbarous too. It perished, and it vanished, there, The Life and Soul breathed out, became but empty Air. (2) The Empire of the Stagarites sublime and piercing wit, (Tho th'Empire both of Greece, and Rome Time did long since overcome) Shall ne'er decay, but men shall still to its vast Power submit; For All well-ordered thoughts must go Within the Compass of those Rules, which his great Art did show. Our HARVEY, whose bright Fame So Dazzled Envies Eye, that she could never see The least Pretence to lessen his Great Name, Even He commends the Stagirite To all Posterity, As one that had a Clear Insight Into the Secret ways of Nature's Majesty. 'Tis true he failed in that he did not see That things Successive could not be From all Eternity: But yet he saw That this is Nature's Law, That all things must depend on him alone, Who gives to all things Motion, though himself has none, Who Is, and Was, and Ever shall Be ONE In all Simplicity, From Composition, and from Alteration free: To whom may all true Praise be given In Earth, as 'tis in Heaven. (3) The Fields which answered well the Ancients Blow, Spent and outworn return no Harvest now, In Barren Age wild, and unglorious lie And boast of past Fertility, The poor relief of present Poverty. Food, and Fruit we now must want, Unless New Lands we plant. We break up Tombs with Sacrilegious hands; Old Rubbish we remove, To walk in Ruins like vain Ghosts we love, And with fond Divining Wands We search among the Dead, For Treasures Buried, Whilst still the liberal Earth does hold So many Virgin Mines of undiscovered Gold. (3) That in this Age Men done't their Thoughts confine Within the Line Of what Judicious Aristotle said; Nor are his Works so commented, As they were in those Days; They don't hereby detract from his Great Praise. Sith they walk in those ways, To which his mighty Genius led. His Commendation was not this, that he Did show the Truth of this, or that Particularity; But that he showed the way to clear our Thought, That every Man might find that Truth, which should by him be sought. (4) The Baltic, Euxin, and the Caspian, And slender limbed Mediterranean Seem Narrow Creeks to Thee, and only fit For the poor wretched Fisherboats of Wit: Thy Nobler Vessel the vast Ocean tries, And nothing sees but Seas and Skies, Till unknown Regions it descries. Thou great Columbus of the Golden Lands of New Philosophies, Thy Task was harder much than his; For thy learned America is Not only found out first by thee, And rudely left to future Industry; But thy Eloquence, and thy Wit Has planted, peopled, built, and civilised it. (4) 'Tis true, thy New Philosopher has left the Caspian, The Baltic, Euxin, Mediterranean; The Narrow ways to all that Verity Which Mortals can descry; He Sails i'th' Ocean of the most Profound Impiety; And from the Coasts of Hell He brings those Wares, which he shall never sell To any, but those darkened Souls, which lie, where Adam fell. The Power of Earthly Princes he doth foolishly pretend By his fictitious Loyalty t' extend To larger measures; gives to Kings what's due to God alone: Thus what he seems to make more great, he really makes none: For sure on Earth there is No Monarchy, If it consist in ABSOLUTE Sovereignty. The King of Kings commands us to obey our King, By cheerful Doing, or by quiet Suffering: He that the Power of Kings would have much higher to arise, His King Dishonours, and his GOD he doth Despise: Such Folk dwell in those Colonies, Which Hobbes has planted in his Lands of New Philosophies. I little thought before, (Nor being my own self so poor, Could comprehend so vast a store) That all the Wardrobe of rich Eloquence, Could have afforded half enuff Of bright, of new, and lasting Stuff, To clothe the mighty limbs of thy Gigantic Sense, Thy solid Reason like the Shield from Heaven, To the Trojan Hero given, Too strong to take a mark from any mortal Dart, Yet shines with Gold, and Gems in every part, And wonders on it graved by the learned hand of Art; A Shield that gives delight Even to the Enemy's sight, Then when they're sure to lose the Combat by't. (5) His Monstrous Thoughts may well be called Gigantic Sense, To Heaven they fain would offer violence, Like those Giants of old Of which the Poets told. Even like Goliath they Defy The Armies of the Living God, and like him too they Die. The Man with his Gigantic Sense, his mighty Spear and Shield Comes forth into the Field; And for some time he Boasted there As if he had no Cause to Fear. His Captive-Darkned Soul can't see, What 'tis to have our Souls set free From the Black Chains of dire NECESSITY; This and a Thousand Errors more He strives to Land upon our Shoar. But then the Mighty BRAMHAL comes, and takes his Arms away, Shows that this Painted Shield's not fit for Fight, but Play, Strikes down the Monster, doth to All his Ugly Shape display. Then in another Field he's met by th' Mighty WARD; And here 'twas plainly seen, that he could neither guard Himself from being Wounded, or give Wounds; Down straight he falls, his Armour on him sounds, What e'er his Followers say, he never Rose again: His Ghost is heard to Rave sometimes, but then Bold TOM was slain. (6) Nor can the Snow, which now cold Age does shed Upon thy reverend Head, Quench or allay the noble Fires within, But all which thou hast been, And all that Youth can be, thou'rt yet, So fully still dost Thou Enjoy the Manhood, and the Bloom of Wit, And all the Natural Heat, but not the Fever too. So Contraries on AEtna's Top conspire Her hoary Frosts, and by them breaks out Fire. A secure peace the faithful Neighbours keep, Th● emboldened Snow next to the Flame does sleep. And if we weigh like Thee, Nature, and Causes we shall see, That thus it needs must be; To things Immortal, Time can do no wrong, And that which never is to Die, for ever must be Young, TOM's grown Another Man, and now himself betakes To Poetry, and Sonnets makes Of Gods, and Goddesses, and such like things: He's now the Echo of what HOMER Sings. If Versifying be a Sign of Youth, The Man of Politics is youthful still: He does not here Pretend to show the Truth, On which Pretence how much Ink did he spill! O that he had spent all the Time In hard Translations, and in Rhyme, Which he spent in Opposing Truths, by which to Heaven we climb. No wonder, that Old Age, & Youth, AEtnean Cold, & Heat Should Meet in Him, in whom long since such Contradictions Met. I wish he may not Die too soon after so long a Life, That he no longer would maintain his cursed Strife Against That, which would make him repent of all's Impieties: Lest his Long Life bring him i'th' End to th' WORM that Never Dies. FINIS.