who sustain'd Wit 's Empire when Divine Eliza reign'd But sure when Foreign Toils will time allow Our Age's Hydra-Vices to subdue Victorious William's Piety will chase From these infested Realms th' Infernal Race And when Alarms of War are heard no more With Europe's Peace the Muse's State restore THE Author's Dedication TO Q. ELIZABETH TO that clear Majesty which in the North Doth like another Sun in Glory rise Which standeth fix'd yet spreads her Heavenly Worth Load-stone to Hearts and Load star to all Eyes Like Heaven in All like Earth in this alone That though great States by her support do stand Yet she her self supported is of none But by the Finger of the Almighty's Hand To the divinest and the richest Mind Both by Art's Purchase and by Nature's Dower That ever was from Heaven to Earth confin'd To shew the utmost of a Creature 's Power To that great Spring which doth great Kingdom 's move The sacred Spring ' whence Right and Honour streams Distilling Virtue shedding Peace and Love In every Place as Cynthia sheds her Beams I offer up some Sparkles of that Fire Whereby we reason live and move and be These Sparks by Nature evermore aspire Which makes them now to such a Highness flee Fair Soul since to the fairest Body joyn'd You give such lively Life such quickning Power And Influence of such Celestial Kind As keeps it still in Youth's immortal Flower As where the Sun is present all the Year And never doth retire his golden Ray Needs must the Spring be everlasting there And every Season like the Month of May. O many many Years may you remain A happy Angel to this happy Land Long long may you on Earth our Empress reign E're you in Heaven a glorious Angel stand Stay long sweet Spirit e're thou to Heaven depart Who mak'st each Place a Heaven wherein thou art Her MAJESTY' 's Devoted Subject and Servant JOHN DAVIES July 11. 1592. THE CONTENTS THE Introduction to Humane Knowledge Page 1 Of the Original Nature and Immortality of the Soul 11 Sect. I. That the Soul is a Thing subsisting by its self and has proper Operations without the Body 16 Sect. II. That the Soul is more than a Perfection or Reflection of the Sense 22 Sect. III. That the Soul is more than the Temperature of the Humours of the Body 26 Sect. IV. That the Soul is a Spirit 28 Sect. V. Erroneous Opinions of the Creation of Souls 33 Sect. VI. That the Soul is not ex Traduce 35 Sect. VII Reasons drawn from Nature 37 Sect. VIII Reasons drawn from Divinity 40 Sect. IX Why the Soul is united to the Body 48 Sect. X. In what Manner the Soul is united to the Body 49 Sect. XI How the Soul exercises her Powers in the Body 51 Sect. XII The Vegetative Power of the Soul 52 Sect. XIII The Power of Sense 53 Sect. XIV Seeing 54 Sect. XV. Hearing 56 Sect. XVI Taste 58 Sect XVII Smelling ibid. Sect. XVIII Feeling 59 Sect. XIX Of the Imagination or Common Sense 60 Sect. XX. Fantasy 61 Sect. XXI Sensitive Memory 62 Sect. XXII The Passion of the Sense 63 Sect. XXIII Local Motion 64 Sect. XXIV The Intellectual Powers of the Soul 65 Sect. XXV Wit Reason Vnderstanding Opinion Judgment Wisdom 66 Sect. XXVI Innate Ideas in the Soul 67 Sect. XXVII The Power of Will and Relation between the Wit and Will 68 Sect. XXVIII The Intellectual Memory 70 Sect. XXIX The Dependency of the Soul's Faculties upon each Other ibid. Sect. XXX That the Soul is Immortal proved by several Reasons 73 Sect. XXXI That the Soul cannot be destroy'd 89 Sect. XXXII Objections against the Immortality of the Soul with their respective Answers 92 Sect. XXXIII Three Kinds of Life answerable to the three Powers of the Soul 105 Sect. XXXIV The Conclusion 106 THE Introduction WHY did my Parents send me to the Schools That I with Knowledge might enrich my Mind Since the Desire to know first made Men Fools And did corrupt the Root of all Mankind For when God's Hand had written in the Hearts Of Our first Parents all the Rules of Good So that their Skill infus'd surpass'd all Arts That ever were before or since the Flood And when their Reason's Eye was sharp and clear And as an Eagle can behold the Sun Could have approach'd th' Eternal Light as near As th' intellectual Angels could have done Ev'n then to them the Spirit of Lyes suggests That they were blind because they saw not Ill And breath'd into their incorrupted Breasts A curious Wish which did corrupt their Will From that same Ill they streight desir'd to know Which Ill being nought but a Defect of Good In all God's Works the Devil could not show While Man their Lord in his Perfection stood So that themselves were first to do the Ill E'er they thereof the Knowledge could attain Like him that knew not Poison's power to kill Until by tasting it himself was slain Ev'n so by tasting of that Fruit forbid Where they sought Knowledge they did Error find Ill they desir'd to know and Ill they did And to give Passion Eyes made Reason blind For then their Minds did first in Passion see Those wretched Shapes of Misery and Woe Of Nakedness of Shame of Poverty Which then their own Experience made them know But then grew Reason dark that she no more Could the fair Forms of Good and Truth discern Batts they became who Eagles were before And this they got by their Desire to learn But we their wretched Off-spring What do we Do not we still taste of the Fruit forbid While with fond fruitless Curiosity In Books prophane we seek for Knowledge hid What is this Knowledge but the Sky stoll'n Fire For which the Thief still chain'd in Ice doth sit And which the poor rude Satyr did admire And needs would kiss but burnt his Lips with it What is it but the Cloud of empty Rain Which when Jove's Guest embrac'd he Monsters got Or the false Pails which oft being fill'd with pain Receiv'd the Water but retain'd it not In fine What is it but the fiery Coach Which the Youth sought and sought his Death withal Or the Boy 's Wings which when he did approach The Sun 's hot Beams did melt and let him fall And yet alas when all our Lamps are burn'd Our Bodies wasted and our Spirits spent When we have all the learned Volumes turn'd Which yield Mens Wits both Help and Ornament What can we know or what can we discern When Error clouds the Windows of the Mind The divers Forms of things how can we learn That have been ever from our Birth-day blind When Reason's Lamp which like the Sun in Sky Throughout Man's little World her Beams did spread Is now become a Sparkle which doth lie Under the Ashes half extinct and dead How can we hope that through the Eye and Ear This dying Sparkle in this cloudy place Can recollect those Beams of Knowledge clear Which
err And ev'n against their false Reports decrees And oft she doth condemn what they prefer For with a Pow'r above the Sense she sees Therefore no Sense the precious Joys conceives Which in her private Contemplations be For then the ravish'd Spirit th' Senses leaves Hath her own Pow'rs and proper Actions free Her Harmonies are sweet and full of Skill When on the Body's Instruments she plays But the Proportions of the Wit and Will Those sweet Accords are even th' Angels Lays These Tunes of Reason are Amphion's Lyre Wherewith he did the Thebane City found These are the Notes wherewith the Heavenly Choir The Praise of him which made the Heav'n doth sound Then her self-being Nature shines in This That she performs her noblest Works alone The Work the Touch-Stone of the Nature is And by their Operations Things are known SECT II. That the Soul is more than a Perfection or Reflection of the Sense ARE they not senseless then that think the Soul Nought but a fine Perfection of the Sense Or of the Forms which Fancy doth inrol A quick Resulting and a Consequence What is it then that doth the Sense accuse Both of false Judgment and fond Appetites What makes us do what Sense doth most refuse Which oft in Torment of the Sense delights Sense thinks the Planets Spheres not much asunder What tells us then their Distance is so far Sense thinks the Lightning born before the Thunder What tells us then they both together are When Men seem Crows far off upon a Tow'r Sense saith they 're Crows What makes us think them Men When we in Agues think all sweet things sowre What makes us know our Tongue 's false Judgment then What Pow'r was that whereby Medea saw And well approv'd and prais'd the better Course When her rebellious Sense did so withdraw Her feeble Pow'rs that she pursu'd the worse Did Sense perswade Vlysses not to hear The Mermaid's Songs which so his Men did please That they were all perswaded through the Ear To quit the Ship and leap into the Seas Could any Pow'r of Sense the Roman move To burn his own Right Hand with Courage stout Could Sense make Marius sit unbound and prove The cruel Lancing of the knotty Gout Doubtless in Man there is a Nature found Beside the Senses and above them far Though most Men being in sensual Pleasures drown'd It seems their Souls but in their Senses are If we had nought but Sense then only they Should have sound Minds which have their Senses sound But Wisdom grows 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 than we As having Sense's apprehensive Might In a more clear and excellent Degree But they do want that quick discoursing Pow'r Which doth in us the erring Sense correct Therefore the Bee did suck the painted Flow'r And Birds of Grapes the cunning Shadow peck'd Sense outsides knows the Soul through all things sees 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 do I the Soul and Sense divide When Sense is but a Pow'r which she extends Which being in divers parts diversify'd The divers Forms of Objects apprehends This Power spreads outward but the Root doth grow In th' inward Soul which only doth perceive For th' Eyes and Ears no more their Objects know Than Glasses know what Faces they receive For if we chance to fix our Thoughts elsewhere Though our Eyes open be we cannot see And if one Pow'r did not both see and hear Our Sights and Sounds would always double be Then is the Soul a Nature which contains The Pow'r of Sense within a greater Pow'r Which doth employ and use the Sense's Pains But sits and Rules within her private Bow'r SECT III. That the Soul is more than the Temperature of the Humours of the Body IF she doth then the subtile Sense excel How gross are they that drown her in the Blood Or in the Body's Humours temper'd well As if in them such high Perfection stood As if most Skill in that Musician were Which had the best and best tun'd Instrument As if the Pensil neat and Colours clear Had Pow'r to make the Painter excellent Why doth not Beauty then resine the Wit And good Complexion rectify the Will Why doth not Health bring Wisdom still with it Why doth not Sickness make Men brutish still Who can in Memory or Wit or Will Or Air or Fire or Earth or Water find What Alchymist can draw with all his Skill The Quintessence of these out of the Mind If th' Elements which have nor Life nor Sense Can breed in us so great a Pow'r as this Why give they not themselves like Excellence Or other things wherein their Mixture is If she were but the Body's Quality Then would she be with it sick maim'd and blind But we perceive where these Privations be An healthy perfect and sharp sighted Mind If she the Body's Nature did partake Her Strength would with the Body's Strength decay But when the Body's strongest Sinews slake Then is the Soul most active quick and gay If she were but the Body's Accident And her sole Being did in it subsist As White in Snow she might her self absent And in the Body's Substance not be miss'd But it on her not she on it depends For she the Body doth sustain and cherish Such secret Pow'rs of Life to it she lends That when they fail then doth the Body perish Since then the Soul works by her self alone Springs not from Sense nor Humours well agreeing Her Nature is peculiar and her own She is a Substance and a perfect Being SECT IV. That the Soul is a Spirit BVT though this Substance be the Root of Sense Sense knows her not which doth but Bodies know She is a Spirit and Heav'nly Influence Which from the Fountain of God's Spirit doth flow She is a Spirit yet not like Air or Wind Nor like the Spirits about the Heart or Brain Nor like those Spirits which Alchymists do find When they in ev'ry thing seek Gold in vain For she all Natures under Heav'n doth pass Being like those Spirits which God's bright Face do see Or like Himself whose Image once she was Though now alas she scarce his Shadow be For of all Forms she holds the first Degree That are to gross material Bodies knit Yet she her self is bodyless and free And though confin'd is almost infinite Were she a Body how could she remain Within this Body which is less than she Or how could she the World 's great Shape contain And in our narrow Breasts contained be All Bodies are confin'd within some place But she all Place within her self confines All Bodies have their Measure and their Space But who can draw the Soul 's dimensive Lines No Body can at once two Forms admit
come there the Spirits of Sense do make These Spirits of Sense in Fantasy's high Court Judge of the Forms of Objects ill or well And so they send a good or ill Report Down to the Heart where all Affections dwell If the Report be good it causeth Love And longing Hope and well assured Joy If it be ill then doth it Hatred move And trembling Fear and vexing Griefs annoy Yet were these natural Affections good For they which want them Blocks or Devils be If Reason in her first Perfection stood That she might Nature's Passions rectify SECT XXIII Local Motion BEsides another Motive-Power doth arise Out of the Heart from whose pure Blood do spring The Vital Spirits which born in Arteries Continual Motion to all Parts do bring This makes the Pulses beat and Lungs respire This holds the Sinews like a Bridle 's Reins And makes the Body to advance retire To turn or stop as she them slacks or strains Thus the Soul tunes the Body's Instruments These Harmonies she makes with Life and Sense The Organs fit are by the Body lent But th' Actions flow from the Soul's Influence SECT XXIV The Intellectual Powers of the Soul BVT now I have a Will yet want a Wit T' express the working of the Wit and Will Which though their Root be to the Body knit Use not the Body when they use their Skill These Pow'rs the Nature of the Soul declare For to Man's Soul these only proper be For on the Earth no other Wights there are That have these Heav'nly Pow'rs but only we SECT XXV Wit Reason Understanding Opinion Judgment Wisdom THE Wit the Pupil of the Soul 's clear Eye And in Man's World the only shining Star Look in the Mirror of the Fantasy Where all the Gath'rings of the Senses are From thence this Pow'r the Shapes of things abstracts And them within her Passive Part receives Which are enlightned by that part which Acts And so the Forms of single things perceives But after by discoursing to and fro Anticipating and comparing things She doth all Vniversal Natures know And all Effects into their Causes brings When she rates things and moves from Ground to Ground The Name of Reason she obtains by this But when by Reason she the Truth hath found And standeth fix'd she Vnderstanding is When her Assent she lightly doth incline To either part she his Opinion's Light But when she doth by Principles define A certain Truth she hath true Judgment 's Sight And as from Senses Reason's Work doth spring So many Reasons Vnderstanding gain And many Vnderstandings Knowledge bring And by much Knowledge Wisdom we obtain So many Stairs we must ascend upright E're we attain to Wisdom's high Degree So doth this Earth eclipse our Reason's Light Which else in Instants would like Angels see SECT XXVI Innate Ideas in the Soul YEt hath the Soul a Dowry natural And Sparks of Light some common things to see Not being a Blank where Nought is writ at all But what the Writer will may written be For Nature in Man's Heart her Laws doth pen Prescribing Truth to Wit and Good to Will Which do accuse or else excuse all Men For ev'ry Thought or Practice good or ill And yet these Sparks grow almost infinite Making the World and all therein their Food As Fire so spreads as no place holdeth it Being nourish'd still with new Supplies of Wood. And though these Sparks were almost quench'd with Sin Yet they whom that just One hath justify'd Have them increas'd with heav'nly Light within And like the Widow's Oil still multiply'd SECT XXVII The Power of Will and Relation between the Wit and Will AND as this Wit should Goodness truly know We have a Will which that true Good should chuse Tho Will do oft when Wit false Forms doth show Take Ill for Good and Good for Ill refuse Will puts in practice what the Wit deviseth Will ever acts and Wit contemplates still And as from Wit the Pow'r of Wisdom riseth All other Virtues Daughters are of Will Will is the Prince and Wit the Counsellor Which doth for common Good in Council sit And when Wit is resolv'd Will lends her Power To execute what is advis'd by Wit Wit is the Mind 's chief Judge which doth controul Of Fancy's Court the Judgments false and vain Will holds the Royal Scepter in the Soul And on the Passions of the Heart doth reign Will is as free as any Emperor Nought can restrain her gentle-Liberty No Tyrant nor no Torment hath the pow'r To make us will when we unwilling be SECT XXVIII The Intellectual Memory TO these high Pow'rs a Store-house doth pertain Where they all Arts and gen'ral Reasons lay Which in the Soul ev'n after Death remain And no Lethaean Flood can wash away SECT XXIX The Dependency of the Soul's Faculties upon each Other THis is the Soul and these her Virtues be Which though they have their sundry proper Ends And one exceeds another in Degree Yet each on other mutually depends Our Wit is giv'n Almighty God to know Our Will is giv'n to love him being known 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 quick'ning Pow'r the Senses feed Thus while they do their sundry Gifts dispence The Best the Service of the Least doth need Ev'n so the King his Magistrates do serve Yet Commons feed both Magistrates and King The Common's Peace the Magistrates preserve By borrow'd Pow'r which from the Prince doth spring The Quick'ning Power would be and so would rest The Sense would not be only but be well But Wit 's Ambition longeth to the best For it desires in endless Bliss to dwell And these three Pow'rs 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 Flow'rs And others did with brutish Forms invest And did of others make Celestial Pow'rs Like Angels which still travel yet still rest Yet these three Pow'rs are not three Souls but one As One and Two are both contain'd in Three Three being one Number by it self alone A Shadow of the blessed Trinity Oh! What is Man great Maker of Mankind That thou to him so great Respect dost bear That thou adorn'st him with so bright a Mind Mak'st him a King and ev'n an Angel's Peer Oh! What a lively Life what heav'nly Pow'r What spreading Virtue what a sparkling Fire How great how plentiful how rich a Dow'r Dost 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 infinite But it exceeds Man's Thought to think how high God hath rais'd Man since God a Man became The Angels do admire this Mystery
Soul destroys As Lightning or the Sun-beams dim the Sight Or as a Thunder clap or Cannon's noise The Pow'r of Hearing doth astonish quite But high Perfection to the Soul it brings T' encounter things most excellent and high For when she views the best and greatest things They do not hurt but rather clear the Eye Besides as Homer's Gods ' gainst Armies stand Her subtil Form can through all Dangers slide Bodies are Captive Minds endure no Band And Will is free and can no Force abide But lastly Time perhaps at last hath pow'r To spend her lively Pow'rs and quench her Light But old God Saturn which doth all devour Doth cherish her and still augment her Might Heav'n waxeth old and all the Spheres above Shall one Day faint and their swift Motion stay And Time it self in time shall cease to move Only the Soul survives and lives for ay Our Bodies ev'ry Footstep that they make March towards Death until at last they dye Whether we work or play or sleep or wake Our Life doth pass and with Time's Wings doth fly But to the Soul 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 Gods doth fill 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 SECT XXXII Objections against the Immortality of the Soul with their respective Answers BVT now these Epicures begin to smile And say My Doctrine is more safe than true And that I fondly do my self beguile While these receiv'd Opinions I ensue For what say they Doth not the Soul wax old How comes it then that Aged Men do dote And that their Brains grow sottish dull and cold Which were in Youth the only Spirits of note What Are not Souls 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 subtil Argument To such as think both Sense and Reason One To whom nor Agent from the Instrument Nor Pow'r of Working from the Work is known But they that know that Wit can shew no Skill But when she Things in Sense's Glass doth view Do know if Accident this Glass do spill It nothing sees or sees the False for true For if that Region of the tender Brain Where th' inward Sense of Fantasy should sit And th' outward Senses Gath'rings should retain By Nature or by Chance become unfit Either at first uncapable it is And so few things or none at all receives Or marr'd by Accident which haps amiss And so amiss it ev'ry thing perceives Then as a cunning Prince that useth Spies If they return no News doth nothing know But if they make Advertisement of Lies The Prince's Counsels all awry do go Ev'n so the Soul to such a Body knit Whose inward Senses undisposed be And to receive the Forms of Things unfit Where nothing is brought in can nothing see This makes the Idiot which hath yet a Mind Able to know the Truth and chuse the Good If she such Figures in the Brain did find As might be found if it in temper stood But if a Phrensy do possess the Brain It so disturbs and blots the Forms of Things As Fantasy proves altogether vain 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 fly the Good and Ill pursue Believing all that this false Spy propounds But purge the Hamours and the Rage appease Which this Distemper in the Fansy wrought Then shall the Wit which never had Disease Discourse and judge discreetly as it ought So though the Clouds eclipse the Sun 's fair Light Yet from his Face they do not take one Beam So have our Eyes their perfect Pow'r of Sight Ev'n when they look into a troubled Stream Then these Defects in Sense's Organs be Not in the Soul or in her working Might She cannot lose her perfect Pow'r to see Though Mists and Clouds do choak her Window-Light These Imperfections then we must impute Not to the Agent but the Instrument We must not blame Apollo but his Lute If false Accords from her false Strings be sent The Soul in all hath one Intelligence Though too much Moisture in an Infant 's Brain And too much Driness in an old Man's Sense Cannot the Prints of outward things retain Then doth the Soul want Work and idle sit And this we Childishness and Dotage call Yet hath she then a quick and active Wit If she had Stuff and Tools to work withal For give her Organs fit and Objects fair Give but the aged Man the young Man's Sense Let but Medea Aeson's Youth repair And straight she shews her wonted Excellence As a good Harper stricken far in Years Into whose cunning Hands the Gout doth fall All his old Crotchets in his Brain he bears But on his Harp plays ill or not at all But if Apollo takes his Gout away That he his nimble Fingers may apply Apollo's self will envy at his Play And all the World applaud his Minstralsy Then Dotage is no Weakness of the Mind But of the Sense for if the Mind did waste In all old Men we should this Wasting find When they some certain Term of Years had pass'd But most of them ev'n to their dying Hour Retain a Mind more lively quick and strong And better use their understanding Pow'r Then when their Brains were warm and Limbs were young For though the Body wasted be and weak And though the Leaden Form of Earth it bears Yet when we hear that half-dead Body speak We oft are ravish'd to the heav'nly Spheres Yet say these Men If all her Organs die Then hath the Soul no pow'r her Pow'rs to use So in a sort her Pow'rs extinct do lie When unto Act she cannot them reduce And if her Pow'rs be dead then what is she For since from ev'ry thing some Pow'rs do spring And from those Pow'rs some Acts proceeding be Then kill both Pow'r and Act and kill the thing Doubtless the Body's Death when once it dies The Instruments of Sense and Life doth kill So that she cannot use those Faculties Although their Root rest in her Substance still But as the Body living Wit and Will Can judge and chuse without the Body's Aid Though on such Objects they are working still As through the Body's Organs are convey'd So when the Body serves her turn no more And all her Senses are extinct and gone She can discourse of what she learn'd before In heav'nly Contemplations all alone So if one Man well on the Lute doth play And have good Horsemanship and Learning's Skill Though both his Lute and Horse we take away Doth he not keep his former Learning still He keeps
were insus'd in the first Minds by Grace So might the Heir whose Father hath in Play Wasted a thousand Pounds of ancient Rent By painful earning of one Groat a Day Hope to restore the Patrimony spent The Wits that div'd most deep and soar'd most high Seeking Man's Powers have found his Weakness Skill comes so slow and Life so fast doth fly such We learn so little and forget so much For this the wisest of all Moral Men Said he knew nought but that he nought did know And the great mocking Master mock'd not then When he said Truth was buried here below For how may we to Other Things attain When none of us his own Soul understands For which the Devil mocks our curious Brain When Know thy Self his Oracle commands For why should we the busy Soul believe When boldly she concludes of that and this When of her self she can no Judgment give Nor how nor whence nor where nor what she is All things without which round about we see We seek to know and have therewith to do But that whereby we reason live and be Within our selves we Strangers are thereto We seek to know the moving of each Sphere And the strange Cause o' th' Ebbs and Floods of Nile But of that Clock which in our Breasts we bear The subtile Motions we forget the while We that acquaint our selves with ev'ry Zone And pass the Tropicks and behold each Pole When we come home are to our selves unknown And unacquainted still with our own Soul We study Speech but others we persuade We Leech-craft learn but others cure with it W'interpret Laws which other Men have made But read not those which in our Hearts are writ Is it because the Mind is like the Eye Through which it gathers Knowledge by degrees Whose Rays reflect not but spread outwardly Not seeing it self when other things it sees No doubtless for the Mind can backward cast upon her self her understanding Light But she is so corrupt and so defac'd As her own Image doth her self afright As is the Fable of the Lady fair Which for her Lust was turn'd into a Cow When thirsty to a Stream she did repair And saw her self transform'd she wist not how At first she startles then she stands amaz'd At last with Terrour she from thence doth fly And loaths the wat'ry Glass wherein she gaz'd And shuns it still although for Thirst she die Ev'n so Man's Soul which did God's Image bear And was at first fair good and spotless pure Since with her Sins her Beauties blotted were Doth of all Sights her own Sight least endure For ev'n at first Reflection she espies Such strange Chimera's and such Monsters there Such Toys such Anticks and such Vanities As she retires and shrinks for Shame and Fear And as the Man loves least at Home to be That hath a sluttish House haunted with Sprites lights So she impatient her own Faults to see Turns from her self and in strange things de For this few know themselves For Merchants broke View their Estate with Discontent and Pain And Seas as troubled when they do revoke Their slowing Waves into themselves again And while the Face of outward things we find Pleasing and fair agreeable and sweet These things transport and carry out the Mind That with her self the Mind can never meet Yet if Affliction once her Wars begin And threat the feebler Sense with Sword and Fire The Mind contracts her self and shrinketh in And to her self she gladly doth retire As Spiders touch'd seek their Web's inmost part As Bees in Storms back to their Hives return As Blood in danger gathers to the Heart As Men seek Towns when Foes the Country burn If ought can teach us ought Affliction 's Looks Making us pry into our selves so near Teach us to know our selves beyond all Books Or all the learned Schools that ever were This Mistress lately pluck'd me by the Ear And many a Golden Lesson hath me taught Hath made my Senses quick and Reason clear Reform'd my Will and rectify'd my Thought So do the Winds and Thunders cleanse the Air So working Seas settle and purge the Wine So lopp'd and pruned Trees do flourish fair So doth the Fire the drossy Gold refine Neither Minerva nor the learned Muse Nor Rules of Art nor Precepts of the Wise Could in my Brain those Beams of Skill infuse As but ' the glance of this Dame's angry Eyes She within Lists my ranging Mind hath brought That now beyond my self I will not go My self am Centre of my circling Thought Only my self I study learn and know I know my Body 's of so frail a kind As Force without Fevers within can kill I know the heavenly Nature of my Mind But t is corrupted both in Wit and Will I know my Soul hath power to know all things Yet is she blind and ignorant in All I know I 'm one of Nature's little Kings Yet to the least and vilest things am thrall I know my Life 's a Pain and but a Span I know my Sense is mock'd in ev'ry thing And to conclude I know my self a Man Which is a proud and yet a wretched thing OF THE Original Nature and Immortality OF THE SOUL THE Lights of Heav'n which are the World 's fair Eyes Look down into the World the World to see And as they turn or wander in the Skies Survey all things that on the Centre be And yet the Lights which in my Tower do shine Mine Eyes which view all Objects nigh and far Look not into this little World of mine Nor see my Face wherein they fixed are Since Nature fails us in no needful thing Why want I Means my inward Self to see Which Sight the Knowledge of my self might bring Which to true Wisdom is the first Degree That Pow'r which gave me Eyes the World to view To view my self infus'd an inward Light Whereby my Soul as by a Mirror true Of her own Form may take a perfect Sight But as the sharpest Eye discerneth nought Except the Sun-beams in the Air do shine So the best Soul with her reflecting Thought Sees not her self without some Light Divine O Light which mak'st the Light which makes the Day Which sett'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 Form how can my Spark discern Which dim by Nature Art did never clear When the great Wits from whom all Skill we learn Are ignorant both what she is and where One thinks the Soul is Air another Fire Another Blood diffus'd about the Heart Another saith the Elements conspire And to her Essence Each doth give a part Musicians think our Souls are Harmonies Physicians hold that they Complexion 's be Epicures make them Swarms of Atomies Which do by chance into our Bodies flee Some think one gen'ral Soul fill's ev'ry Brain As the bright Sun sheds Light in ev'ry Star And others think