And as Minerva is, in fables, said, From Jove, without a mother, to proceed; So our true Jove, without a mother's aid, Doth, daily, millions of Minervas breed. Erroneous opinions of the creation of souls. Then neither, from Eternity before, Nor from the time, when time's first point began; Made He all souls! which now He keeps in store, Some in the moon, and others in the sun: Nor in the secret cloister doth He keep, These virgin spirits until 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 certain number make, Infusing part in beasts, and part in men, And as unwilling farther pains to take, Would make no more, than those He framÈd then. So that the widow Soul, her Body dying, Unto the next born Body married was; And so by often changing and supplying, Men's souls to beasts, and beasts' to men did pass. (These thoughts are fond! for since the bodies born Be more in number far than those that die; Thousands must be abortive, and forlorn, Ere others' deaths, to them their souls supply.) But as GOD's handmaid, Nature, doth create Bodies, in time distinct and order due; So GOD gives souls the like successive date, Which Himself makes in bodies formÈd new. Which Himself makes, of no material things, For unto angels, He no power hath given, Either to form the shape, or stuff to bring, From air, or Fire, or substance of the heaven. That the Soul is not traduced from the parents. Nor He, in this, doth Nature's service use, For though from bodies she can bodies bring; Yet could she never, souls from souls traduce, As fire from fire, or light from light doth spring. Alas! that some that were great lights of old, And in their hands the Lamp of GOD did bear, Some reverend Fathers did this error hold, Having their eyes dimmed with religious fear. "For when," say they, "by rule of faith we find, That every soul unto her body knit, Brings from the mother's womb, the Sin of Kind, The root of all the ill She doth commit." "How can we say, that GOD, the Soul doth make, But we must make Him author of her sin; Then from man's soul, She doth beginning take, Since in man's soul, corruption did begin." "For if GOD make her, first he makes her ill, (Which GOD forbid! our thoughts should yield unto) Or makes the body, her fair form to spill; Which, of itself, it hath no power to do." "Not Adam's Body, but his Soul did sin, And so herself unto corruption brought: But our poor Soul corrupted is within, Ere She hath sinned, either in act or thought"; "And yet we see in her such powers divine, As we could gladly think, from GOD she came; Fain would we make Him author of the wine, If for the dregs, we could some other blame." The Answer to the Objection. Thus these good men, with holy zeal were blind, When on the other part the truth did shine, Whereof we do clear demonstrations find, By light of Nature, and by light Divine. None are so gross, as to contend for this, That Souls from Bodies may traducÈd be; Between whose natures no proportion is, When root and branch in nature still agree. But many subtle wits have justified That Souls from Souls, spiritually may spring; Which (if the nature of the Soul be tried) Will even, in Nature, prove as gross a thing. Reasons derived from Nature. For all things made, are either made of nought, Or made of stuff that ready made doth stand: Of nought, no creature ever formed ought, For that is proper to th'Almighty's hand. If then the Soul, another soul do make; Because her power is kept within a bound, She must some former stuff or matter take; But in the Soul, there is no matter found. Then if her heavenly Form do not agree, With any matter which the world contains; Then She of nothing must created be, And to Create, to GOD alone, pertains! Again, if Souls do other Souls beget, 'Tis by themselves, or by the Body's power! If by themselves! what doth their working let, But they might Souls engender every hour? If by the Body! how can Wit and Will, Join with the body, only in this act? Since when they do their other works fulfil, They from the Body, do themselves abstract! Again, if Souls, of Souls begotten were, Into each other they should change and move; And Change and Motion still corruption bear; How shall we then, the Soul immortal prove? If, lastly, Souls did generation use, Then should they spread incorruptible seed: What then becomes of that which they to lose, When the acts of generation do not speed? And though the Soul could cast spiritual seed, Yet would She not, because She never dies; For mortal things desire, their like to breed; That so they may their kind immortalise. Therefore the angels, Sons of God are named, And marry not, nor are in marriage given; Their spirits and ours are of one Substance framed, And have one Father, even the Lord of heaven: Who would at first, that in each other thing, The earth and water, living souls should breed; But that Man's Soul (whom He would make their king) Should from Himself immediately proceed. And when He took the woman from man's side, Doubtless Himself inspired her soul alone; For 'tis not said, he did, Man's soul divide, But took
he brain, It would astonish and confuse it much; Therefore these plaits and folds the sound restrain, That it, the Organ may more gently touch! As streams, which, with their winding banks, do play, Stopt by their creeks, run softly through the plain; So in the Ear's labyrinth, the voice doth stray, And doth, with easy motion, touch the brain! It is the slowest, yet the daintiest Sense! For even the ears of such as have no skill, Perceive a discord, and conceive offence, And knowing not what's good, yet find the ill! And though this Sense, first, gentle Music found; Her proper object is the Speech of Man! But that speech chiefly which GOD's heralds sound, When their tongues utter, what his Spirit did pen. Our Eyes have lids, our Ears still ope we see! Quickly to hear, how every tale is proved; Our Eyes still move, our Ears unmoved be! That though we hear quick, we be not quickly moved. Thus by the organs of the Eye and Ear, The Soul with knowledge doth herself endue! Thus She her prison, may with pleasure bear; Having such prospects, all the world to view! These Conduit Pipes of Knowledge feed the Mind: But th'other three attend the Body still; For by their services the Soul doth find What things are to the Body, good or ill. Taste. The Body's life, with meats and air is fed, Therefore the Soul doth use the Tasting power! In veins, which through the tongue and palate spread, Distinguish every relish, sweet and sour. This is the Body's Nurse! But since Man's wit Found th'art of cookery to delight his Sense: More bodies are consumed and killed with it! Than with the sword, famine, or pestilence. Smell. Next, in the nostrils, She doth use the Smell, As GOD the breath of life in them did give; So makes He, now, His power in them to dwell; To judge all airs, whereby we breath and live. This Sense is also mistress of an Art, Which to soft people, sweet perfumes doth sell; Though this dear Art doth little good impart, Since "they smell best; that do of nothing smell!" And yet good scents do purify the Brain, Awake the Fancy, and the Wits refine. Hence Old Devotion, incense did ordain, To make men's spirits more apt for thoughts divine. Feeling. Lastly, the Feeling power, which is Life's Root, Through every living part itself doth shed; By sinews, which extend from head to foot, And like a net, all o'er the Body spread. Much like a subtle spider, which doth sit In middle of her web, which spreadeth wide; If ought do touch the utmost thread of it; She feels it, instantly, on every side! By touch; the first pure qualities we learn, Which quicken all things, Hot, Cold, Moist, and Dry! By touch; Hard, Soft, Rough, Smooth, we do discern! By touch; sweet Pleasure, and sharp Pain we try! These are the outward instruments of Sense! These are the Guards, which every thing must pass; Ere it approach the Mind's intelligence! Or touch the Phantasy "Wits Looking Glass!" The Imagination, or Common Sense. And yet these Porters which all things admit, Themselves perceive not, nor discern the things; One Common Power doth in the forehead sit, Which all their proper forms together brings. For all those Nerves, which spirits of Sense do bear, And to those outward organs spreading go, United are as in a centre there! And, there, this power, those sundry forms doth know! Those outward Organs present things receive; This inward Sense doth absent things retain! Yet, straight, transmits all Forms she doth perceive, Unto a higher region of the brain; The Phantasy. Where Phantasy (near handmaid to the Mind!) Sits and beholds, and doth discern them all; Compounds in one, things diverse in their kind, Compares the black and white, the great and small. Besides those single forms, She doth esteem, And in her balance doth their values try; Where some things good, and some things ill do seem, And neutral some in her Phantastic eye. This busy power is working day and night, For when the outward senses rest do take; A thousand dreams, phantastical and light, With fluttering wings, do keep her still awake! The sensitive Memory. Yet, always, all may not afore her be; Successively, she this, and that intends: Therefore such forms as she doth cease to see, To Memory's large volume she commends! The Ledger Book lies in the brain behind, Like Janus' eye, which in his poll was set; The Layman's Tables! Storehouse of the Mind! Which doth remember much, and much forget. Here, Sense's Apprehensions end doth take; As, when a stone is into water cast, One circle doth another circle make, Till the last circle touch the bank at last! The Passions of Sense. But though the Apprehensive Power do pause, The Motive Virtue then begins to move! Which in the heart below, doth Passions cause, Joy, Grief, and Fear, and Hope, and Hate, and Love These Passions have a free commanding might, And divers actions in our life do breed; For all acts done without true Reason's light, Do from the Passion of the Sense proceed. But sith the Brain doth lodge these powers of Sense, How makes it, in the Heart those passions spring? The mutual love, the kind intelligence 'Twixt heart and brain, this Sympathy doth bring. From the kind heat, which in the heart doth reign, The spirits of Life do their beginning take! These spirits of Life ascending to the brain, When
trings be sent The Soul, in all, hath one intelligence, Though too much moisture in an infant's brain, And too much dryness 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, Æson's youth repair, And straight She shews her wonted excellence. As a good harper, stricken far in years, Into whose cunning hands, the gout is fall: All his old crotchets, in his brain he bears, But on his harp, plays ill, or not at all. But if Apollo take his gout away, That he, his nimble fingers may apply; Apollo's self will envy at his play, And all the world applaud his minstrelsy! 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 past. But most of them, even to their dying hour, Retain a Mind more lively, quick, and strong, And better use their Understanding Power, Than 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 ravished to the heavenly spheres. 2. Objection. Yet say these men, "If all her organs die, Then hath the Soul no power, her Powers to use! So in a sort her Powers extinct do lie, When into Act She cannot them reduce." "And if her Powers be dead, then what is She? For since from everything, some Powers do spring, And from those Powers some Acts proceeding be: Then kill both Power and Act, and kill the Thing." Answer. 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 choose without the Body's aid, Though on such objects, they are working still, As through the Body's organs are conveyed: So, when the Body serves her turn no more, And all her Senses are extinct and gone, She can discourse of what She learned before, In heavenly 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 it doubtless! and can use it too! And doth both th'other skills, in power retain! And can of both the proper actions do, If with his Lute, or Horse he meet again. So, though the instruments by which we live And view the world, the Body's death doth kill: Yet with the Body, they shall all revive; And all their wonted offices fulfil. 3. Objection. "But how, till then, shall She herself employ? Her spies are dead; which brought home news before: What she hath got and keeps, she may enjoy; But She hath means to understand no more." "Then what do those poor Souls which nothing get? Or what do those which get and nothing keep, Like buckets bottomless, which all out let? Those Souls, for want of exercise, must sleep." Answer. See how Man's Soul, against itself doth strive: Why should we not have other means to know? As children, while within the womb they live, Feed by the navel; Here, they feed not so. These children (if they had some use of Sense, And should by chance their mothers talking, hear; That, in short time, they shall 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 shall we then our nourishment receive, Since our sweet food, no other conduit brings?" And if a man should, to these babes reply, That "Into this fair world they shall be brought, Where they shall see the earth, the sea, the sky, The glorious sun, and all that GOD hath wrought: That there ten thousand dainties they shall meet, Which by their mouths they shall with pleasure take; Which shall be cordial too, as well as sweet, And of their little limbs, tall bodies make!" This, would they think a fable! even as we Do think the story of the Golden Age; Or as some sensual spirits amongst us be, Which hold the World to Come, "a feigned Stage." Yet shall these infants, after, find all true; Though, then, thereof, they nothing could conceive. As soon as they are born, the world they view, And with their mouths, the nurse's milk receive. So when the Soul is born (for Death is nought But the Soul's Birth, and so we should it call!) Ten thousand things She sees, beyond her thought; And, in an unknown manner, knows them all. Then doth She see by spectacles no more, She hears not by report of double spies, Herself, in instants, doth all things explore, For each thing present, and before her lies. 4. Objection. But still this Crew, with questions me pursues; "If Souls deceased," say they, "still living be", Why do they not return to bring us news Of that strange world, where they such wonders see? |
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