Believe that forrow trueft is, which lies Sorrows fpeak loud without a tongue; Know henceforth that grief's vital part And verfes that are ftudied, Mourn for themselves, not for the dead. Bishop King. Ibid. Bishop Corbet. That grief does far all other griefs transcend, Which greater grows, when trufted to a friend : Friendship in noble hearts would never reign, If friendship's duty fhould be friendship's pain. E. of Orrery's Henry V. Grief speaks there loudeft, where the mourner's dumb. Grief's like a river which does filent creep, Orgula. Dover's Roman Generals. You hunt our griefs, as they were hard to find, Crown's Regulus. 1. Can human forrows be delights to the gods ? 2. Our forrows are not, but our troubles may; A great man vanquishing his destiny, Is a great spectacle worthy of the gods. SOUL. Crown's Darius. For how may we to other things attain, When, know thy felf, his oracles commands. For For why should we the busy foul believe, When boldly fhe concludes of that and this; When of herself fhe can no judgment give, Nor how, nor whence, nor where, nor what fshe is? All things without, which round about we fee, We feek to know, and have therewith to do: But that whereby we reason, live and be Within ourselves, we ftrangers are thereto. We feek 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 fubtile motions we forget the while. We that acquaint ourselves with ev'ry zone, And pass the tropicks, and behold each pole; When we come home, are to ourselves unknown, And unacquainted still with our own foul. As is the fable of the lady fair, Sir John Davies. Which for her luft was turn'd into a cow; And faw herself transform'd she knew not how ; Ev'n fo man's foul, which did God's image bear, Such ftrange chimeras, and fuch monsters there, Such toys, fuch anticks, and fuch vanities, As fhe retires, and shrinks for shame and fear. Ibid. One One thinks the foul is air; another, fire; And to her effence each doth give a part. Which do by chance into our bodies flee. Some in the liver, fountain of the veins: Some fay, fhe's not contain'd, but all contains. Thus these great clerks their little wisdom shew, While with their doctrines they at hazard play; Toffing their light opinions to and fro, To mock the lewd, as learn'd in this as they. Sir John Davies. To judge herself, fhe muft herfelf tranfcend, As greater circles comprehend the lefs: But she wants pow'r, her own pow'rs to extend, As fetter'd men cannot their strength express. The workman on his stuff his skill doth fhew, But order them by their own royal will: Ibid So, So, though this cunning miftrefs, and this queen, To know all things that are felt, heard, or feen; Sees by their eyes, and writeth by their hands; Sir John Davies. Doubtless in man there is a nature found, If we had nought but fenfe, then only they And folly moft in quickest fenfe is found. If we had nought but fenfe, each living wight In a more clear and excellent degree. If fhe were but the body's quality, Ibid. Then would she be with it fick, maim'd and blind; But we perceive, where thefe privations be, Ibid. No body can at once two forms admit, But in the foul ten thousand forms do fit, And none intrudes into her neighbour's place. Ibid. But But how shall we this union well express? Doth here and there her filver beams impart, To the transparent air, in all, and ev'ry part: B'ing all in all, and all in part diffus'd, Not forc'd, encounter'd, troubled, or confus'd. But high perfection to the foul it brings Sir John Davies. T'encounter things moft excellent and high; For when the views the beft and greatest things, They do not hurt, but rather clear the eye. Ibid. Our |