Selected quad for the lemma: fire_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
fire_n	air_n	body_n	earth_n	6,354	5	6.3744	4	true

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

although the Body rest When all her works she formeth first within Proportions them and sees their perfect end Ere she in act doth any part begin What instruments doth then the Body lend When without hands she thus doth Castles build Sees without eyes and without feet doth run When she digests the World yet is not fild By her owne power these miracles are done When she defines argues divides compounds Considers vertue vice and generall things And marrying divers principles and grounds Out of their match a true Conclusion brings These Actions in her Closet all alone Retir'd within her selfe she doth fulfil Use of her Bodies Organs she hath none When she doth use the powers of Wit and Will Yet in the Bodies prison so she lyes As through the Bodies windowes she must look Her diverse powers of Sense to exercise By gathering Notes out of the Worlds great Book Nor can her selfe discourse or judge of ought But what the sense Collects and home doth bring And yet the power of her discoursing thought From these Collections is a diverse thing For though our eyes can nought but Colours see Yet Colours give them not their power of sight So though these fruits of Sense her objects be Yet she discernes them by her proper light The work-man on his stuffe his skill doth show And yet the stuffe gives not the man his skil States their affairs do by their servants know But order them by their owne royal wil So though this cunning Mistresse and this Queen Doth as her instruments the Senses use To know all things that are felt heard or seen Yet she her selfe doth onely judge and choose Right so the Soule which is a Lady free And doth the justice of her State maintaine Because the Senses ready servants be Attending nigh about her Court the braine By them the formes of outward things she learnes For they returne into the fantasie Whatever each of them abroad discernes And there enrol it for the mind to see But when she fits to judge the good and ill And to discerne betwixt the false and true She is not guided by the Senses skill But doth each thing in her owne Mirror view Then she the Senses checks which oft do erre And even against their false reports decrees And oft she doth condemne what they prefer For with a powre above the Sense she sees Therefore no Sense the precious joyes conceives Which in her private Contemplations be For then the ravisht spirit the Senses leaves Hath her owne powers and proper actions free Her harmonies are sweet and full of skill When on the bodies instrument she playes But the proportions of the wit and will Those sweet accords are even the Angels layes Doubtlesse in man there is a nature found Beside the Senses and above them farre Though most men being in sensual pleasures drownd It seems their souls but in the Senses are If we had nought but Sense then onely they Should have found minds which have their Senses sound But wisdome growes when Senses do decay And folly most in quickest Sense is found If we had nought but Sense each living wight Which we call brute would be more sharp then we As having Senses apprehensive might In a more clear and excellent degree But they do want that quick discoursing power Which doth in us the erring Sense correct Therefore the Bee did suck the painted flower And birds of Grapes the cunning shadow peckt Sense outside knows the Soule through all things feet Sense Circumstance she doth the substance view Sense sees the bark but she the life of Trees Sense hears the sounds but she the Concords true But why doe I the Soule and Sense divide When Sense is but a powre which she extends Which being in diverse parts diversified The diverse formes of objects apprehends This powre spreads outward but the root doth grow In th' inward Soule which onely doth perceive For th' eyes and ears no more their objects know Then glasses know what faces they receive For if we chance to fix our thoughts elsewhere Although our eyes be ope we do not see And if one power did not both see and heare Our fights and sounds would alwayes double be Then is the Soule a nature which containes The powre of Sense within a greater powre Which doth employ and use the Senses paines But sits and rules within her private bowre If she doth then the subtill Sense excel How grosse are they that drowne her in the blood Or in the bodies humours tempred well As if in them such high perfection stood As if most skil in that Mositian were Which had the best and best ruin'd instrument As if the Pensil neat and Colours cleare Had powre to make the Painter excellent Why doth not Beauty then refine the wit And good Complection rectifie the will Why doth not Health bring wisdome still with it Why doth not Sicknesse make men brutish still Who can in Memory or Wit or Will Or aire or fire or earth or water find What Alchymist can d●aw with all his skil The Quintessence of these out of the mind If th' Elements which have nor life nor sense Can breed in us so great a powre as this Why give they not themselves like excellence Or other things wherein their mixture is If she were but the Bodies quality Then would she be with it sick maim'd and blind But we perceive where these privations be A healthy perfect and sharp-sighted mind If she were but the bodies accident And her sole being did in it subsist As white in snow she might her selfe absent And in the bodies substance not be mist But it on her not she on it depends For ●ne the body doth sustaine and cherish Such secret powers of life to it she lends That when they faile then doth the body perish Since then the Soule works by her selfe alone Springs not from sense nor humours well agreeing Her nature is peculiar and her owne She is a substance and a perfect being But though this substance be the root of Sense Sense knowes her not which doth but bodies know She is a spirit and heavenly influence Which from the fountaine of Gods spirit doth flow She is a spirit yet not like aire or wind Nor like the spirits about the heart or braine Nor like those spirits which Alchymists do find When they in every thing seek gold in vaine For she all natures under heaven doth passe Being like those spirits which Gods bright face doe see Or like himselfe whose image once she was Though now alas she scarce his shadow be Yet of the formes she holds the first degree That are to grosse materiall bodies knit Yet she her selfe is bodilesse and free And though confin'd is almost infinit Were she a body how could she remaine Within this Body which is lesse then she Or how could she the worlds great shape containe And in our narrow breasts contained be All Bodies are confin'd within some

place But she all place within her selfe confines All Bodies have their measure and their space But who can draw the Soules dimensive lines No Body can at once two formes admit Except the one the other do deface But in the Soule ten thousand formes do sit And none intrudes into her neighbours place All Bodies are with other Bodies fild But she receives both heaven and earth together Nor are their formes by rash incounter spild For there they stand and neither toncheth either MEMORIE A com̄on June all com̄ers to reteyne A Siue where good run̄e out bad remayne A Burrow with a thousand vermine hydes A Den where nothinge that is good abides Nor can her wide Embracements filled bee For they'that most and greatest things embrace Enlarge thereby their minds Capacitie As streames enlarg'd enlarge the Channels space All things receiv'd do such proportion take As those things have wherein they are receiv'd So little glasses little faces make And narrow webs on narrow frames be weav'd Then what vast Body must we make the mind Wherein are men beasts trees towns seas and lands And yet each thing a proper place doth find And each thing in the true proportion stands Doubtlesse this could not be but that she turnes Bodies to spirits by sublimation strange As fire converts to fire the things it burnes As we our meats into our nature change From their grosse matter she abstracts the formes And drawes a kind of Quintessence from things Which to her proper nature she transformes To beare them light on her celestiall wings This doth she when from things particular She doth abstract the universall kinds Which bodilesse and immateriall are And can be lodg'd but onely in our minds And thus from diverse accidents and acts Which doe within her observation fall She goddestes and powers divine abstracts As nature fortune and the vertues all Againe how can she severall Bodies know If in her selfe a Bodies forme she bear How can a Mirror sundry faces show If from all shapes and formes it be not clear Nor could we by our eyes all colours learn Except our eyes were of all colours voyd Nor sundry tasts can any tongue discerne Which is with grosse and bitter humours cloyd Nor may a man of passions judge aright Except his mind be from all passions free Nor can a Judge his office well acquite If he possest of either party be If lastly this quick powre a Body were Were it as swift as is the wind or fire Whose Atomies do th'one downe sidewayes beare And make the other in Pyramids aspire Her nimble Body yet in time must move And not in instants through all places slide But she is nigh and far beneath above In point of time which thought can not divide She 's sent as soon to China as to Spaine And thence returnes as soon as she is sent She measures with one time and with one paine An ell of Silk and heavens wide-spreading Tent As then the Soule a substance hath alone Besides the Body in which she is confin'd So hath she not a Body of her owne But is a spirit and immateriall mind Since Body and Soule have such diversities Well might we muse how first their match began But that we learn that he that spread the skies And fixt the earth first form'd the Soule in man 'T is true Prometheus first made man of earth And shed in him a beam of heavenly fire Now in their mothers wombs before their birth Doth in all sons of men their Souls inspire And as Minerva is in Fables said From Jove without a mother to proceed So our true Jove without a mothers aid Doth daily millions of Minerva's breed Then neither from eternity before Nor from the time when times first point begun Made he all Souls which now he keeps in store Some in the Moon and others in the Sun Nor in a secret Cloister doth he keep These virgin spirits untill their marriage-day Nor locks them up in Chambers where they sleep Till they awake within these beds of Clay Nor did he first a certaine number make Infusing part in beasts and part in men And as unwilling farther paines to take Would make no more then those he framed then So that the widow Soule her Body dying Unto the next born Body married was And so by often changing and supplying Mens souls to beasts and beasts to men did passe These thoughts are fond for since the Bodies borne Be more in number far then those that die Thousands must be abortive and forlorne Ere others deaths to them their souls supply But as Gods handmaid nature doth create Bodies in time distinct and order due So God gives soules the like successive date Which himselfe makes in bodies formed new Which himselfe makes of no materiall thing For unto Angels he no power hath given Either to forme the shape or stuffe to bring From aire or fire or substance of the Heaven Nor he in this doth Natures service use For though from Bodies she can Bodies bring Yet could she never Soules from Soules traduce As fire from fire or light from light doth spring But many subtill wits have justifi'd That Souls from Souls spiritually may spring Which if the nature of the Soul be try'd Will even in nature prove as grosse a thing For all things made are either made of nought Or made of stuffe that ready made doth stand Of nought no creature ever formed ought For that is proper to th' Almighties hand If then the Soule another Soule do make Because her power is kept within a bound She must some former stufle or matter take But in the Soule there is no matter found Then if her heavenly Forme do not agree With any matter which the world containes Then she of nothing must created be And to create to God alone pertaines Againe if Soules doe other Soules beget 'T is by themselves or by the Bodies power If by themselves what doth their working let But they might Soules engender every houre If by the Body how can wit and will Joyne with the Body onely in this act Since when they do their other works fulfil They from the Body do themselves abstract Againe if Soules of Soules begotten were Into each other they should change and move And change and motion still corruption beare How shall we then the Soule immortall prove If lastly Soules did generation use Then should they spread incorruptible seed What then becomes of that which they doe loose When th' acts of generation doe not speed And though the Soule could cast spirituall seed Yet would she not because she never dies For mortall things desire their like to breed That so they may their kind immortalize Therefore the Angels sons of God are nam'd And marry not nor are in marriage given Their spirits and ours are of one substance fram'd And have one Father even the Lord of Heaven Who would at first that in each other thing The earth

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