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Our bodies, ev'ry footstep that they make,
March towards death, until at last they dye :
Whether we work, or play, or fleep, or wake,
Our life doth pass, and with time's wings doth fly:
But to the foul, time doth perfection give,
And adds fresh luftre to her beauty still,
And makes her in eternal youth to live;
Like her which nectar to the gods doth fill.

The more fhe lives, the more fhe feeds on truth;
The more she feeds, her strength doth more increase ;
And what is ftrength but an effect of youth,

Which if time nurse, how can it ever cease?

Sir John Davies.

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 councils all awry do go:
Ev'n fo the foul to fuch a body knit,
Whose inward fenfes undisposed be;
And to receive the forms of things unfit,
Where nothing is brought in, can nothing fee.

Yet say these men, if all her organs die,

Then hath the foul no pow'r her pow'rs to use :
So, in a fort, her pow'rs extinct do lie,
When unto act she cannot them reduce.

Ibid.

And if her pow'rs be dead, then what is she ?
For fince from ev'ry thing fome pow'rs do fpring,
And from those pow'rs, fome acts proceeding be;
Then kill both act and pow'r, and kill the thing.
Doubtless the body's death, when once it dies,
The inftruments of fenfe and life doth kill;
So that the cannot use those faculties,
Although their root reft in her fubftance ftill.

But,

But as, the body living, wit and will

Can judge and chufe, without the body's aid;
Though on fuch objects they are working ftill,
-As through the body's organs are convey'd:
So, when the body ferves her turn no more,
And all her fenfes are extinct and gone;
She can difcourfe of what the learn'd before,
In heav'nly contemplations, all alone :

So, if one man well on the lute doth play,
And in good horfemanship, have learning skill;
Though both his lute and horse we take away,
Doth he not keep his former learning ftill ?

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He keeps it, doubtless, and can use it too;

And doth both th' other skills in pow'r retain ; And can of both the proper actions do,

If with his lute or horfe he meet again :

So though the inftruments, by which we live,
And view the world, the body's death do kill ;
Yet with the body they fhall all furvive,

And all their wonted offices fulfil.

But how, till then, shall she herself employ?

Her fpies are dead, which brought home news before:
What the hath got, and keeps, the may enjoy ;
But she hath means to understand no more.

Then what do thefe poor fouls, which nothing get?
Or what do those which get, and cannot keep?
Like buckets bottomlefs, which all out let;
"Thofe fouls, for want of exercise, must sleep.
See how man's foul against itself doth strive!
Why fhould we not have other means to know?
As children, while within the womb they live,
Feed by the navel: Here they feed not fo.

Thefe

Thefe children, if they had fome ufe of sense,

And fhould by chance their mother's talking hear, "That in fhort time they fhall come forth from thence." Would fear their birth, more than our death we fear:

They would cry out, "if we this place shall leave, "Then shall we break our tender navel-strings: "How fhall we then our nourishment receive,

"Since our sweet food no other conduit brings?" And if a man fhould to thefe babes reply,

"That into this fair world they fhall be brought, "Where they shall view the earth, the fea, the sky, "The glorious fun, and all that God hath wrought "That there ten thousand dainties they shall meet, "Which by their mouths they fhall with pleasure take; "Which fhall be cordial too, as well as sweet; "And of their little limbs, tall bodies make: "

This world they'd think a fable; ev'n as we
Do think the story of the golden age:
Or as fome fenfual fpirits 'mongst us be,
Which hold the world to come, a feigned stage:

Yet fhall these infants after find all true,

Tho' nothing then thereof they could conceive :
As foon as they are born, the world they view,
And with their mouths, the nurses milk receive:
So when the foul is born, for death is nought
But the foul's birth, and fo we should it call,
Ten thousand things the fees beyond her thought;
And in an unknown manner, knows them all.
Then doth she fee by fpectacles no more,
She hears not by report of double fpies;
Herself in inftants doth all things explore,
For each thing's prefent, and before her lies.

Sir John Davies.

Think

Think of her worth, and think that God did mean
This worthy mind fhould worthy things embrace:
Blot not her beauties with thy thoughts unclean,
Nor her dishonour with thy paffion baie.

Sir John Davies.

That our fouls, in reafon, are immortal,
Their natural and proper objects prove;
Which immortality and knowledge are.
For to that object, ever is referr'd
The nature of the foul; in which the acts
Of her high faculties are ftill employ'd:
And that true object must her pow'rs obtain,
To which they are in nature's aim directed.
Since 'twere abfurd, to have her fee an object,
Which poffibly fhe never can afpire.

Chapman's Cafar and Pompey.

I was a scholar Seven useful (prings
Did I deflow'r in quotations,

Of crofs'd opinions 'bout the foul of man;

The more I learn'd, the more I learn'd to doubt;
Knowledge and wit, faith's foes, turn faith about.
Nay, mark; Delight, my fpaniel, flept; whilft I paus'd
leaves,

Tofs'd o'er the dunces, por'd on the old print
Of titled words; and ftill my fpaniel flept.
Whilft I wafted lamp-oil, bated my flesh,
Shrunk up my veins; and ftill my fpaniel flept.-
And still I held converfe with Zabarell,
Aquinas, Scotus, and the mufty faw
Of antick Donate; ftill my fpaniel flept.-
Still on went I, first, an fit anima?

Then, and it were mortal? O hold, hold,

At that, they are at brain-buffets, fell by the ears
Amain, pell-mell together; ftill my fpaniel flept.
Then, whether 'twere corporeal, local, fix'd,
Ex traduce? but, whether't had free-will
Or no?the philofophers?

Stood banding factions, all fo ftrongly propt,

I ftagger'd; knew not which was firmer part,
But thought, quoted, read, obferv'd, and pryed,
Stuff'd noting-books, and ftill my fpaniel flept.
At length he wak'd, and yawn'd; and by yon sky,
For aught I know, he knew as much as Ï.

Marfion's What you will

Let man's foul be a fphere; and then in this
Th'intelligence that moves, devotion is :
And as the other fpheres, by being grown
Subject to foreign motion, lofe their own;
And being by others hurry'd ev'ry day,
Scarce in a year their nat'ral form obey:
Pleasure or bufinefs fo our fouls admit
For their first mover, and are whirl'd by it.

Dr. Donne.

For bodies fhall from death redeemed be,
Souls but preferv'd, born naturally free;
As men tour prifons now, fouls t'us are fent,
Which learn vice there, and come in innocent.

Who is there fure he hath a foul, unless
It fee, and judge, and follow worthiness,

And by deeds praise it? He who doth not this,
May lodge an inmate foul, but 'tis not his.

The foul her liking eas'ly can efpy

By fympathy, to her by heav'n affign'd

Through her clear windows, the well-seeing eye;
Which doth convey the image to the mind,

Without advisement; and can apprehend,

Ibid.

Ibid.

That, whofe true caufe man's knowledge doth tranfcend.

Drayton's Pierce Gaveflon.

That learned father which fo firmly proves

The foul of man immortal and divine,
And doth the fev'ral offices define;

Anima, Gives her that name, as fhe the body moves; !

VOL. III.

I

Amor,

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