Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
cause_n	body_n	know_v	see_v	1,629	5	3.2042	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A37242	A work for none but angels & men. That is to be able to look into, and to know our selves. Or a book shewing what the soule is, subsisting and having its operations without the body; its more th[e]n a perfection or reflection of the sense, or teperature of humours: how she exercises her powers of vegetative or quickening power of the senses. Of the imaginations or common sense, the phantasie, sensative memory, passions motion of life, local motion, and intellectual powers of the soul. Of the wit, understanding, reason, opinion, judgement, power of will, and the relations betwixt wit & wil. Of the intellectual memory, that the soule is immortall, and cannot dye, cannot be destroyed, her cause ceaseth not, violence nor time cannot destroy her; and all objections answered to the contrary.; Nosce teipsum. Selections	Davies, John, Sir, 1569-1626.	1653 (1653)	Wing D409; ESTC R207134	24,057	52

A WORK For none but ANGELS MEN THAT IS To be able to look into and to know our selves OR A BOOK Shewing what the SOULE Is Subsisting and having its operations without the Body it s more then a perfection or reflection of the the Sense or Temperature of Humours How she exercises her powersof vegetative or quickning power of the Senses Of the Imaginations or Common sense the Phantasie Sensative Memory Passions Motion of Life the Local Motion and Intellectual Powers of the soul Of the Wit Understanding Reason Opinion Judgement Power of Will and the Relations betwixt Wit Wil. Of the Intellectuall Memory that the soule is Immortall and cannot dye cannot be destroyed her cause ceaseth not violence nor time cannot destroy her and all Objections Answered to the contrary O thou my Soule which turn'st thy curious eye To view the beames of thine owne forme Divine Know that thou canst know nothing perfectly Whil'st thou art clouded with this flesh of mine Such knowledge is too wonderfull for me it is high I cannot attaine unto it Psal. 139. 6. LONDON Printed by M. S. for Tho Jenner at the South-Entrance of the Royall EXCHANGE 1653. Of the Soule of Man and the Immortality thereof THe lights of Heaven which are the worlds faire eyes Look down into the world the world to see And as they run or wander in the skies Surveigh all things that on this Center be And yet the lights which in my Towre do shine Mine Eyes which all objects both nigh and farre Look not into this little world of mine Nor see my face wherein they fixed are Since Nature fails us in no needfull thing Why want I meanes mine in ward self to see Which sight the knowledge of my self might bring Which to true wisedome is the first degree That Powre which gave me eyes the world to view To view my selfe infus'd an inward light Whereby my Soule as by a mirror true Of her owne forme may take a perfect sight But as the sharpest eye discerneth nought Except the Sun-beames in the aire do shine So the best Sense with her reflecting thought Seeks not her selfe without some light Divine O Light which mak'st the Light which makes the Day Which set'st the Eye without and Mind within Lighten my spirit with one clear heavenly ray Which now to view it self doth first begin For her true forme how can my Spark discerne Which dim by Nature Art did never clear When the great Wits of whom all skill we learne Are ignorant both what she is and where One thinks the Soule is Aire another Fire Another Blood diffus'd about the heart Another s●●th the Elements conspire And to her Essence each doth give a part Musi●ians think our Souls are Harmonies Physitians hold that they Complexions be Epicures make them swarmes of Atomies Which doe by chance into our Bodies flee Some think one generall Soule fils every braine As the bright Sun sheds light in every Starre And others think the name of Soule is vaine And that we onely well-mixt bodies are In judgement of her substance thus they vary And thus they varie in judgement of her seat For some her Chaire up to the brain do carry Some thrust it downe into the stomachs heat Some place it in the Root of life the Heart Some in the Liver fountaine of the Veines Some say she is all in all and all in part Some say she 's not contain'd but all contains Thus these great Clerks their little wisedome show While with their Doctrines they at Hazard play Tossing their light opinions to and fro To mock the Lewd as learn'd in this as they For no craz'd braine could ever yet propound Touching the Soule so vaine and fond a thought But some among these Masters have been found Which in their Schools the self-same thing have taut God onely Wise to punish pride of Wit Among mens Wits hath this confusion wrought As the proud Towre whose points the Clouds did hit By Tongues Confusion was to ruine brought VNDERSTANDING I once was AEgle ey'ed full of all light Am owle eyd now as dim as derke●s night As through a glasse or Cloud I all thinges vew Shall on day see them in there proper hue But thou which did'st Mans Soule of nothing make And when to nothing it was fallen agen To make it new the Forme of Man did'st take And God with God becam'st a Man with Men Thou that hast fashion'd twice this Soule of ours So that she is by double title thine Thou onely knowest her nature and her powers Her subcile form thou onely canst define To judge her selfe she must her selfe transcend As greater Circles comprehend the lesse But she wants pow'r her own pow'r to extend As fettred men cannot their strength expresse But thou bright morning Starre thou rising Sun Which in these later times hast brought to light Those Mysteries that since the world begun Lay hid in darknesse and in eternal night Thou like the Sun dost with indifferent ray Into the Pallace and the Cottage shine And shew'st the Soule both to the Clerk and Lay By the clear Lamp of thy Oracle Divine This Lamp through all the Regions of my braine Where my Soul sits doth spread her beams of grace As now me thinks I do distinguish plaine Each subtil line of her immortal face The Soule a Substance and a Spirit is Which God himselfe doth in the Body make Which makes the man for every man from this The Nature of a Man and name doth take And though the Spirit be to the Body knit As an apt meane her powers to exercise Which are Life Motion Sense and Will and Wit Yet she survives although the Body dies She is a substance and a real thing Which hath it selfe an actuall working might Which neither from the Senses power doth spring Nor from the Bodies humours tempered right She is a Vine which doth no propping need To make her spread her selfe or spring upright She is a Starre whose beams do not proceed From any Sun but from a Native light For when she sorts things present with things past And thereby things to come doth oft foresee When she doth doubt at first and choose at last These acts her owne without the Body be When of the dew which th' Eye and Eare doth take From flowers abroad and bring into the braine She doth within both wax and honey make This work is hers this is her proper paine When she from sundry Acts one skill doth draw Gath'ring from diverse Fights one act of Warre From many Cases like one Rule of Law These her Collections not the Senses are When in th' effects she doth the Causes know And seeing the stream thinks where the spring doth rise And seeing the branch conceiv'th the root below These things she viewes without the Bodies eyes When she without a Pegasus doth flie Swifter then lightnings fire to East to West About the Center and about the skie She travels then

And when wit is resolv'd will lends her power To execute what is advisd by wit WILL Free to all ill till freed to none but ill Now this I will anon the same I ●ill Appetite ere while ere while Reason may Nere good but when Gods Sperit beares ●●●ay Wit is the minds chief Judge which doth Comptroul Of fancies Court the judgements false and vaine Will holds the Royall Scepter in the Soule And on the passions of the heart doth raigne Will is as Free as any Emperour Nought can restraine her gentle liberty No Tyrant nor no Torment hath the power To make us will when we unwilling be To these high powers a Store-house doth pertaine Where they all Arts and generall Reasons lay Which in the Soule even after death remaine And no Lethoean flood can wash away This is the Soule and those her Vertues be Which though they have their sundry proper ends And one exceeds another in degree Yet each on other mutually depends Our Wit is given Almighty God to know Our Will is given to love him being knowne But God could not be known to us below But by his works which through the sense are shown And as the Wit doth reap the fruits of Sense So doth the quickning power the Senses feed Thus while they do their sundry gifts dispence The best the service of the least doth need Even so the King his Magistrates do serve Yet Commons feed both Magistrate and King The Commons peace the Magistrates preserve By borrowed power which from the Pr. doth spring The quickning power would be and so would rest The Sense would not be onely but be well But Wits ambition longeth to be best For it desires in endlesse blisse to dwell And these three powers three sorts of men do make For some like plants their veins do only fill And some like beasts their senses pleasure take And some like Angels do contemplate still Therefore the Fables turn'd some men to Flowers And others did with brutish formes invest And did of others make celestiall powers Like Angels which still travell yet still rest Yet these three powres are not three Soules but one As one and two are both contain'd in three Three being one number by it selfe alone A shadow of the blessed Trinitie O what is man greater maker of mankind That thou to him so great respect dost bear That thou adornst him with so bright a mind Mak'st him a King and even an Angels peer O what a lively life what heavenly power What spreading vertue what a sparkling fire How great how plentifull how rich a dowre Do'st thou within this dying flesh inspire Thou leav'st thy print in other works of thine But thy whole image thou in man hast writ There cannot be a creature more divine Except like thee it should be infinit But it exceeds mans thought to think how high God hath raisd man since God a man became The Angels do admire this mystery And are astonisht when they view the same Nor hath he given these blessings for a day Nor made them on the bodies life depend The Soule though made in time survives for aye And though it hath beginning sees no end Her onely end is never ending blisse Which is th' eternall face of God to see Who last of ends and first of causes is And to do this she must eternall be How senslesse then and dead a Soule hath he Which thinks his Soule doth with his body dye Or thinks not so but so would have it be That he might sin with more security For though these light and vicious persons say Our Soule is but a smoak or airy blast Which during life doth in our nostrils play And when we die doth turn to wind at last Although they say come let us eat and drink Our life is but a spark which quickly dyes Though thus they say they know not what to think But in their minds ten thousand doubts arise Therefore no hereticks desire to spread Their light opinions like these Epicures For so their staggering thoughts are comforted And other mens assent their doubt assures Yet though these men against their conscience strive There are some sparkles in their flinty breasts Which cannot be extinct but still revive That though they would they cannot quite be beasts But who so makes a mirror of his mind And doth with patience view himselfe therein His Soules eternity shall clearly find Though th' other beauties be defac't with sin First in mans mind we find an appetite To learne and know the truth of every thing Which is connaturall and borne with it And from the Essence of the Soule doth spring With this desire she hath a native might To find out every truth if she had time Th' innumerable effects to sort aright And by degrees from cause to cause to clime But since our life so fast away doth slide As doth a hungry Eagle through the wind Or as a Ship transported with the tide Which in their passage leave no print behind Of which swift little time so much we spend While some few things we through the sense do strain That our short race of life is at an end Ere we the principles of skil attain Or God which to vain ends hath nothing done In vain this appetite and power hath given Or else our knowledge which is here begun Hereafter must be perfected in heaven God never gave a power to one whole kind But most part of that kind did use the same Most eyes have perfect sight though some be blind Most legs can nimbly run though some be lame But in this life no Soule the truth can know So perfectly as it hath power to do If then perfection be not found below An higher place must make her mount thereto Againe how can she but immortall be When with the motions of both will and wit She still aspireth to eternity And never rests till she attain to it Water in Conduit pipes can rise no higher Then the wel-head from whence it first doth spring Then since to eternall God she doth aspire She cannot be but an eternall thing All moving things to other things do move Of the same kind which shewes their nature such So earth fals down and fire doth mount above Till both their proper Elements do touch And as the moysture which the thirsty earth Sucks from the sea to fill her empty veins From out her womb at last doth take a birth And runs a Nymph along the grassie plaines Long doth she stay as loath to leave the land From whose soft side she first did issue make She tasts all places turnes to every hand Her flowry banks unwilling to forsake Yet nature so her streams doth lead and carry As that her course doth make no finall stay Till she her selfe unto the Ocean marry Within whose watry bosome first she lay Even so the Soule which in this earthly mould The Spirit of God doth secretly infuse

Because at first she doth the earth benold And onely this materiall world she viewes At first our mother earth she holdeth dear And doth embrace the world and worldly things She flies close by the ground and hovers here And mounts not up with her celestiall wings Yet under heaven she cannot light on ought That with her heavenly nature doth agree She cannot rest she cannot fix her thought She cannot in this world contented be For who did ever yet in honour wealth Or pleasure of the Sense contentment find Who ●ver●ea●●d to wish when he had health Or having wisdome was not vext in mind Then as a Bee which ammong weeds doth fall Which seem sweet flowers with lustre fresh and gay She lights on that and this and tasteth all But pleasd with none doth rise and sore away So when the Soule finds here no true content And like Noahs Dove can no sure sooting take She doth returne from whence she first was sent And flyes to him that first her wings did make Wit seeking truth from cause to cause ascends And never rests till it the first attaine Will seeking good finds many middle ends But never stayes till it the last do gaine Now God the Truth and first of Causes is God is the last good end which lasteth still Being Alpha and Omega nam'd for this Alpha to Wit Omega to the will Sith then her heavenly kind she doth bewray In that to God she doth directly move And on no mortail thing can make her stay She cannot be from hence but from aboue And yet this first true cause and last good end She cannot hear so well and truely see For this perfection she must yet attend Till to her maker she espoused be As a Kings daughter being in person sought Of diverse Princes which do neighbour near On none of them can fix a constant thought Though she to all do lend a gentle ear Yet can she love a Forraigne Emperour Whom of great worth and power she hears to be If she be woo'd but by Embassadour Or but his Letters or his picture see For well she knowes that when she shall be brought Into the Kingdome where her Spouse doth raigne Her eyes shall see what she conceiv'd in thought Himself his state his glory and his traine So while the Virgin Soule on earth doth stay She woo'd and tempted is ten thousand wayes By these great powers which on the earth bear sway The wisedome of the world wealth pleasure praise With these sometime she doth her time beguile These do by fits her phantasie possesse But she distaits them all within a while And in the sweetest finds a tediousnesse But if upon the worlds Almighty King She once do fix her humble loving thought Which by his picture drawne in every thing And sacred messages her love hath sought Of him she thinks she cannot think too much This honey tasted still is ever sweet The pleasure of her ravisht thought is such At almost here she with her blisse doth meet But when in Heaven she shall his Essence see This is her soveraigne good and perfect blisse Her longings wishings hopes all finisht be Her joyes are full her motions rest in this There is she Crown'd with Garlands of Content There doth she Manna eat and Nectar drink That presence doth such high delights present As never tongue could speak nor heart could think For this the better Soules do oft despise The Bodies d●ath and do it oft desire For when on ground the burthened ballance lyes The empty part is listed up the higher FANCIE Apelike I all thinges imitate New proiects fashions I inuent Dreame-like I them vary-straite All Shapes to head harte present But if the Bodies death the Soule should kill Then death must needs Against her nature be And were it so all Soules would flye it still For Nature hates and shuns her contrary For all things else which Nature makes to be Their being to preserve are chiefly taught For though some things desire a change to see Yet never thing did long to turn to nought If then by death the Soule were quenched quite She could not thus against her nature run Since every senslesse thing by Natures light Doth preservation seek destruction shun Nor could the worlds best spirits so much erre If death took all that they should all agree Before this life their honour to prefer For what is praise to things that nothing be Againe if by the Bodies prop she stand If on the Bodies life her life depend As Meleagers on the fatall brand The Bodies good she onely would intend We should not find her halfe so brave and bold To lead it to the wars and to the Seas To make it suffer watchings hunger cold When it might feed with plenty rest with ease Doubtlesse all Soules have a surviving thought Therefore of death we think with quiet mind But if we think of being turn'd to nought A trembling horror in our Soules we find And as the better spirit when she doth bear A scorne of death doth shew she cannot dye So when the wicked Soule deaths face doth fear Even then she proves her owne Eternity For when deaths from appears she feareth not An utter quenching or extinguishment She would be glad to meet with such a lot That so she might all future ill prevent But she doth doubt what after may befall For natures law accuseth her within And saith 't is true that is affirm'd by all That after death there is a pain for sin Then she which hath been hoodwinckt from her birth Doth first her selfe within Deaths mirror see And when her Body doth returne to earth She first takes care how she alone shall be Whoever sees these irreligious men With burthen of a sicknesse weak and faint But hears them talking of Religion then And vowing of their Soules to every Saint When was there ever cursed Atheist brought Unto the Gibbet but he did adore That blessed power which he had set at nought Scorn'd and blasphemed all his life before These light vaine persons still are drunk and mad With surfetings and pleasures of their youth But at their deaths they are fresh sober sad Then they discerne and then they speak the truth If then all Soules both good and bad do teach With generall voyce that Soules can never dye T is not mans flattering glose but Natures speech Which like Gods Oracle can never lye Hence springs that universall strong desire Which all men have of Immortality Not some few spirits unto this thought aspire But all mens minds in this united be Then this desire of Nature is not vaine She covets not impossibilities Fond thoughts may fall into some idle braine But one Assent of all is ever wise From hence that generall care and study springs That lanching and progression of the mind Which all men have so much of future things As they no joy do in the present find From this desire that maine

desire proceeds Which all men have surviving fame to gaine By Tombes by Books by memorable Deeds For she that this desires doth still remaine Hence lastly springs Care of Posterities For things their kind would everlasting make Hence is it that old men do plant young Trees The fruit whereof another age shall take If we these Rules unto our selves apply And view them by reflection of the mind All these true notes of immortality In our Hearts Tables we shall written find And though some impious wits do questions move And doubt if Soules immortall be or no That doubt their immortality doth prove Because they seem immortal things to know For he which Reasons on both parts doth bring Doth some things mortall some immortall call Now if himselfe were but a mortall thing He could not judge immortall things at all For when we judge our minds we mirrours make And as those glasses which material be Formes of materiall things do onely take For thoughts or minds in them we cannot see So when we God and Angles do conceive And think of truth which is eternal to Then do our minds immortal forms receive Which if they mortall were they could not do And as if Beasts conceiv'd what Reason were And that conception should distinctly show They should the name of reasonable bear For without Reason none could Reason know So when the Soule mounts with so high a wing As of eternal things she doubts can move She proofs of her eternity doth bring Even when she strives the contrary to prove For even the thought of Immortality Being an act done without the Bodies aid Shewes that her selfe alone could move and be Although the body in the grave were laid And if her selfe she can so lively move And never need a forraigne help to take Then must her motion everlasting prove Because her selfe she never can forsake But though corruption cannot touch the mind By any cause that from it selfe may spring Some outward cause fate hath perhaps design'd Which to the Soule may utter quenching bring Perhaps her cause may cease and she may die God is her cause his word her maker was Which shall stand fixt for all eternity When heaven and earth shall like a shadow passe Perhaps some thing repugnant to her kind By strong Antipathy the Soule may kill But what can be contrary to the mind Which holds all contraries in concord still She lodgeth heat and cold and moist and dry And life and death and peace and war together Ten thousand fighting things in her do lye Yet neither troubleth or disturbeth either Perhaps for want of food the Soule may pine But that were strange since all things bad and good Since all Gods creatures mortall and divine Since God himselfe is her eternall food Bodies are fed with things of mortal kind And so are subject to mortality But truth which is eternal feeds the mind The tree of life which will not let her dye Yet violence perhaps the Soul destroyes As lightning or the Sun-beams dim the sight Or as a thunder-clap or Cannons noyse The power of hearing doth astonish quite But high perfection to the Soule it brings T' encounter things most excellent and high For when she viewes the best and greatest things They do not hurt but rather clear her eye But lastly Time perhaps at last hath power To spend her lively powers and quench her light But old God Saturne which doth all devour Doth cherish her and still augment her might Heaven waxeth old and all the Spheares above Shall one day faint and their swift motion stay And Time it selfe in time shall cease to move Onely the Soule survives and lives for aye Our Bodies every footstep that they make March towards death untill at last they dye Whether we work or play or sleep or wake Our life doth passe and with times wings doth flye But to the Soule Time doth perfection give And adds fresh lustre to her beauty still And makes her in eternal youth to live Like her which Nectar to the God doth full The more she lives the more she feeds on truth The more she feeds her strength doth more increase And what is strength but an effect of youth Which if time nurse how can it ever cease But now these Epicures begin to smile And say my doctrine is more safe then true And that I fondly do my selfe beguile While these receiv'd opinions I ensue For what say they doth not the Soule wax old How comes it then that aged men do dote And that their braines grow sottish dull and cold Which were in youth the onely spirits of note What are not Soules within themselves corrupted How can there Idiots then by Nature be How is it that some wits are interrupted That now they dazled are now clearly see These Questions make a subtile Argument To such as think both Sense and Reason one To whom nor agent from the instrument Nor power of working from the work is knowne For if that region of the tender braine Wherein th' inward sense of phantasie should sit And th' outward senses gatherings should retaine By nature or by chance become unfit Either at first uncapable it is And so few things or none at all receives Or mar'd by accident which haps amisse And so amisse it every thing perceives Then as a cunning Prince that useth Spies If they returne no newes doth nothing know But if they make advertizement of Lyes The Princes Counsel all awry do go Even so the Soule to such a Body knit Whose inward senses undisposed be And to receive the formes of things unfit Where nothing is brought in can nothing see But if a Phrensie do possesse the braine It so disturbs and blots the formes of things As phantasie proves altogether vaine And to the wit no true relation brings Then doth the wit admitting all for true Build fond conclusions on those idle grounds Then doth it flie the good and ill pursue Beleeving all that this false Spie propounds But purge the humours and the rage appease Which this distemper in the fancy wrought Then will the wit which never had disease Discourse and judge discreetly as it ought Then these defects in Senses Organs be Not in the Soule or in her working might She cannot loose her perfect power to see Though mists clouds do choke her window light The Soule in all hath one Intelligence Though too much moisture in an Infants braine And too much drinesse in an old mans sense Cannot the prints of outward things retaine Then doth the Soule want work and idle sit And this we childishnesse and dotage call Yet hath she then a quick and active wit If she had stuffe and tools to work withall As a good Harper stricken far in years Into whose cunning hands the Gout doth fall All his old Crotchets in his braine he bears But on his Harp playes ill or not at all Then dotage is no