Chapter III: Introduction (2)

_A gallant Dance! that lively doth bewray
A spirit and a virtue masculine;
Impatient that her house on earth should stay,
Since she herself is fiery and divine.
Oft doth she make her body upward flyne
With lofty turns and caprioles in the air,
Which with the lusty tunes accordeth fair._

69.

_What shall I name those current travases,
That on a triple Dactyl foot, do run
Close by the ground, with sliding passages?
Wherein that dancer greatest praise hath won,
Which with best order can all orders shun;
For everywhere he wantonly must range.
And turn, and wind, with unexpected change._

70.

_Yet is there one, the most delightful kind,
A lofty jumping, or a leaping round,
When, arm in arm, two dancers are entwined,
And whirl themselves, with strict embracements bound,
And still their feet an Anapest do sound;
An Anapest is all their music's song,
Whose first two feet are short, and third is long._

71.

_As the victorious twins of LÆDA and JOVE,
(That taught the Spartans dancing on the sands
Of swift Eurotas) dance in heaven above,
Knit and united with eternal bands;
Among the stars their double image stands,
Where both are carried with an equal pace,
Together jumping in their turning race._

72.

_This is the net wherein the sun's bright eye
VENUS and MARS entangled did behold;
For in this dance their arms they so imply,
As each doth seem the other to enfold.
What if lewd wits another tale have told,
Of jealous VULCAN, and of iron chains?
Yet this true sense that forged lie contains._

73.

_These various forms of dancing LOVE did frame,
And besides these, a hundred millions moe;
And as he did invent, he taught the same:
With goodly gesture, and with comely show,
Now keeping state, now humbly honouring low.
And ever for the persons and the place,
He taught most fit, and best according grace._

74.

_For LOVE, within his fertile working brain,
Did then conceive those gracious Virgins three,
Whose civil moderation did maintain
All decent order and conveniency,
And fair respect, and seemly modesty:
And then he thought it fit they should be born,
That their sweet presence Dancing might adorn_.

75.

_Hence is it, that these Graces painted are
With hand in hand, dancing an endless round;
And with regarding eyes, that still beware
That there be no disgrace amongst them found:
With equal foot they beat the flowery ground,
Laughing, or singing, as their Passions will;
Yet nothing that they do, becomes them ill._

76.

_Thus LOVE taught men! and men thus learned of LOVE
Sweet Music's sound with feet to counterfeit:
Which was long time before high-thundering JOVE
Was lifted up to Heaven's imperial seat.
For though by birth he were the Prince of Crete,
Nor Crete nor Heaven should that young Prince have seen,
If dancers with their timbrels had not been._

77.

_Since when all ceremonious mysteries,
All sacred orgies and religious rites,
All pomps, and triumphs, and solemnities,
All funerals, nuptials, and like public sights,
All parliaments of peace, and warlike fights,
All learned arts, and every great affair,
A lively shape of Dancing seems to bear._

78.

_For what did he, who, with his ten-tongued Lute,
Gave beasts and blocks an understanding ear;
Or rather into bestial minds and brutes
Shed and infused the beams of Reason clear?
Doubtless, for men that rude and savage were,
A civil form of Dancing he devised,
Wherewith unto their gods they sacrificed._

79.

_So did MUSÆUS, so AMPHION did,
And LINUS with his sweet enchanting Song,
And he whose hand the earth of monsters rid,
And had men's ears fast chainèd to his tongue,
And THESEUS to his wood-born slaves among,
Used Dancing, as the finest policy
To plant Religion and Society._

80.

_And therefore, now, the Thracian ORPHEUS' lyre
And HERCULES himself are stellified,
And in high heaven, amidst the starry quire
Dancing their parts, continually do slide.
So, on the Zodiac, GANYMEDE doth ride,
And so is HEBE with the Muses nine,
For pleasing JOVE with dancing, made divine._

81.

_Wherefore was PROTEUS said himself to change
Into a stream, a lion, and a tree,
And many other forms fantastic strange,
As, in his fickle thought, he wished to be?
But that he danced with such facility,
As, like a lion, he could pace with pride,
Ply like a plant, and like a river slide._

82.

_And how was CŒNEUS made, at first, a man,
And then a woman, then a man again,
But in a Dance? which when he first began
He the man's part in measure did sustain:
But when he changed into a second strain,
He danced the woman's part another space;
And then returned unto his former place._

83.

_Hence sprang the fable of TIRESIAS,
That he the pleasure of both sexes tried;
For, in a dance, he man and woman was.
By often change of place, from side to side,
But, for the woman easily did slide,
And smoothly swim with cunning hidden Art,
He took more pleasure in a woman's part._

84.

_So to a fish VENUS herself did change,
And swimming through the soft and yielding wave,
With gentle motions did so smoothly range,
As none might see where she the water drave;
But this plain truth that falsèd fable gave,
That she did dance with sliding easiness,
Pliant and quick in wandering passages._

85.

_And merry BACCHUS practised dancing too,
And to the Lydian numbers Rounds did make.
The like he did in th' Eastern India do,
And taught them all, when PHŒBUS did awake,
And when at night he did his coach forsake,
To honour heaven, and heaven's great rolling eye,
With turning dances and with melody._

86.

_Thus they who first did found a Common weal,
And they who first Religion did ordain,
By dancing first the people's hearts did steal:
Of whom we now a thousand tales do feign.
Yet do we now their perfect rules retain,
And use them still in such devices new;
As in the world, long since, their withering grew._

87.

_For after Towns and Kingdoms founded were,
Between great states arose well-ordered war,
Wherein most perfect Measure doth appear:
Whether their well set Ranks respected are,
In quadrant forms or semicircular;
Or else the March, when all the troops advance,
Unto the drum in gallant order dance._

88.

_And after wars, when white-winged Victory
Is with a glorious Triumph beautified;
And every one doth Ιῶ! Ιῶ! cry,
While all in gold the Conqueror doth ride;
The solemn pomp, that fills the city wide,
Observes such Rank and Measure everywhere,
As if they altogether dancing were._

89.

_The like just order Mourners do observe,
But with unlike affection and attire,
When some great man, that nobly did deserve,
And whom his friends impatiently desire,
Is brought with honour to his latest fire.
The dead corpse, too, in that sad dance is moved
As if both dead and living dancing loved._

90.

_A diverse cause, but like solemnity,
Unto the Temple leads the bashful bride,
Which blusheth like the Indian ivory
Which is with dip of Tyrian purple dyed:
A golden troop doth pass on every side,
Of flourishing young men and virgins gay,
Which keep fair Measure all the flowery way._

91.

_And not alone the general multitude
But those choice NESTORS, which in counsel grave
Of cities and of kingdoms do conclude,
Most comely order in their sessions have;
Wherefore the wise Thessalians ever gave
The name of Leader of their Country's Dance
To him that had their country's governance._

92.

_And those great Masters of the liberal arts,
In all their several Schools, do Dancing teach;
For humble Grammar first doth set the parts
Of congruent and well according Speech,
Which Rhetoric, whose state the clouds doth reach,
And heavenly Poetry do forward lead,
And divers Measures diversely do tread._

93.

_For Rhetoric clothing Speech in rich array,
The looser numbers teacheth her to range
With twenty tropes, and turnings every way,
And various figures and licentious change:
But Poetry, with rule and order strange,
So curiously doth move each single pace
As all is marred if she one foot misplace._

94.

_These Arts of Speech the Guides and Marshals are,
But Logic leadeth Reason in a dance_
(_Reason, the Cynosure and bright Loadstar
_In this world's sea, t' avoid the rocks of Chance_),
For with close following, and continuance,
One reason doth another so ensue
As, in conclusion, still the Dance is true._

95.

_So Music to her own sweet tunes doth trip,
With tricks of_ 3, 5, 8, 15, _and more;
So doth the Art of Numbering seem to skip
From Even to Odd, in her proportioned score;
So do those skills, whose quick eyes do explore
The just dimension both of earth and heaven,
In all their rules observe a measure even._

96.

_Lo, this is Dancing's true nobility;
Dancing, the Child of Music and of Love;
Dancing itself, both Love and Harmony;
Where all agree, and all in order move;
Dancing, the art that all Arts doth approve;
The sure Character of the world's consent,
The heavens true figure, and th'earth's ornament._

97.

The Queen, whose dainty ears had borne too long
The tedious praise of that she did despise,
Adding once more the music of the tongue
To the sweet speech of her alluring eyes;
Began to answer in such winning wise
As that forthwith ANTINOUS' tongue was tied,
His eyes fast fixed, his ears were open wide.

98.

_Forsooth,_ quoth she, _great glory you have won
To your trim minion, Dancing, all this while,
By blazing him LOVE'S first begotten son,
Of every ill the hateful father vile,
That doth the world with sorceries beguile,
Cunningly mad, religiously profane,
Wit's monster, Reason's canker, Sense's bane._

99.

_LOVE taught the mother that unkind desire
To wash her hands in her own infants blood;
LOVE taught the daughter to betray her sire
Into most base unworthy servitude;
LOVE taught the brother to prepare such food
To feast his brothers that the all-seeing sun,
Wrapt in a cloud, the wicked sight did shun._

100.

_And even this self-same LOVE hath Dancing taught,
An Art that shewed th' Idea of his mind
With vainness, frenzy, and misorder fraught;
Sometimes with blood and cruelties unkind,
For in a dance TEREUS' mad wife did find
Fit time and place, by murdering her son,
T' avenge the wrong his traitorous sire had done._

101.

_What mean the Mermaids, when they dance and sing,
But certain death unto the mariner?
What tidings do the dancing Dolphins bring,
But that some dangerous storm approacheth near?
Then since both Love and Dancing liveries bear
Of such ill hap unhappy may they prove
That, sitting free, will either dance or love!_

102.

Yet, once again, ANTINOUS did reply,
_Great Queen! condemn not LOVE the innocent,
For this mischievous LUST, which traitorously
Usurps his Name, and steals his Ornament;
For that TRUE LOVE, which Dancing did invent,
Is he that tuned the world's whole harmony,
And linked all men in sweet society._

103.

_He first extracted from th' earth-mingled mind
That heavenly fire, or quintessence divine,
Which doth such sympathy in Beauty find
As is between the Elm and fruitful Vine,
And so to Beauty ever doth incline;
Life's life it is, and cordial to the heart,
And of our better part the better part._

104.

_This is True Love, by that true CUPID got;
Which danceth Galliards in your amorous eyes,
But to your frozen heart approacheth not;
Only your heart he dares not enterprise,
And yet through every other part he flies,
And everywhere he nimbly danceth now,
Though in yourself yourself perceive not how._

105.

_For your sweet beauty daintily transfused
With due proportion, throughout every part;
What is it but a dance where LOVE hath used
His finer cunning, and more curious Art?
Where all the Elements themselves impart,
And turn, and wind, and mingle with such measure
That th' eye that sees it surfeits with the pleasure._

106.

_LOVE in the twinkling of your eyelids danceth,
LOVE dances in your pulses and your veins,
LOVE, when you sew, your needle's point advanceth,
And makes it dance a thousand curious strains
Of winding rounds; whereof the form remains
To shew that your fair hands can dance the Hey,
Which your fine feet would learn as well as they._

107.

_And when your ivory fingers touch the strings
Of any silver-sounding instrument,
LOVE makes them dance to those sweet murmurings,
With busy skill and cunning excellent!
O that your feet, those tunes would represent
With artificial motions to and fro,
That LOVE this Art in every part might shew!_

108.

_Yet your fair soul, which came from heaven above
To rule this house_ (_another heaven below_)
_With divers powers in harmony doth move;
And all the virtues that from her do flow
In a round measure, hand in hand do go:
Could I now see, as I conceive this dance,
Wonder and Love would cast me in a trance._

109.

_The richest jewel in all the heavenly treasure,
That ever yet unto the earth was shown,
Is Perfect Concord th' only perfect pleasure,
That wretched earthborn men have ever known:
For many hearts it doth compound in one,
That what so one doth will, or speak, or do,
With one consent they all agree thereto._

110.

_Concord's true picture shineth in this Art
Where divers men and women rankèd be,
And every one doth dance a several part,
Yet all as one in measure do agree,
Observing perfect uniformity:
All turn together, all together trace,
And all together honour and embrace._

111.

_If they whom sacred Love hath linked in one,
Do, as they dance, in all their course of life;
Never shall burning grief nor bitter moan,
Nor factious difference, nor unkind strife,
Arise between the husband and the wife;
For whether forth, or back, or round he go,
As doth the man, so must the woman do._

112.

_What, if by often interchange of place,
Sometimes the woman gets the upper hand?
That is but done for more delightful grace,
For on that part, she doth not ever stand;
But, as the Measures' law doth her command,
She wheels about, and, ere the dance doth end,
Into her former place she doth transcend._

113.

_But not alone this correspondence meet
And uniform consent doth Dancing praise;
For Comeliness, the child of Order sweet,
Enamels it with her eye-pleasing rays:
Fair Comeliness, ten hundred thousand ways,
Through Dancing sheds itself, and makes it shine
With glorious beauty, and with grace divine._

114.

_For Comeliness is a disposing fair
Of things and actions in fit time and place;
Which doth in Dancing shew itself most clear
When troops confused, which here and there do trace,
Without distinguishment or bounded space,
By dancing rule, into such ranks are brought,
As glads the eye, and ravisheth the thought._

115.

_Then why should Reason judge that reasonless
Which is Wit's Offspring, and the work of Art,
Image of Concord, and of Comeliness?
Who sees a clock moving in every part,
A sailing pinnace, or a wheeling cart,
But thinks that Reason, ere it came to pass,
The first impulsive cause and mover was?_

116.

_Who sees an army all in rank advance,
But deems a wise Commander is in place,
Which leadeth on that brave victorious dance?
Much more in Dancing's Art, in Dancing's grace,
Blindness itself may Reason's footsteps trace;
For of Love's Maze it is the curious plot,
And of Man's Fellowship the true-love knot._

117.

_But if these eyes of yours (Loadstars of Love!
Shewing the world's great Dance to your mind's eye)
Cannot, with all their demonstrations, move
Kind apprehension in your Phantasy
Of Dancing's virtue and nobility;
How can my barbarous tongue win you thereto,
Which heaven's and earth's fair speech could never do?_

118.

_O LOVE! my King! If all my Wit and power
Have done you all the service that they can;
O be you present, in this present hour,
And help your servant and your true liegeman!
End that persuasion, which I erst began!
For who in praise of Dancing can persuade
With such sweet force, as LOVE, which Dancing made?_

119.

LOVE heard his prayer; and swifter than the wind,
(Like to a page in habit, face, and speech),
He came; and stood ANTINOUS behind,
And many secrets of his thoughts did teach.
At last a crystal Mirror he did reach
Unto his hands, that he with one rash view
All forms therein by LOVE'S revealing knew.

120.

And humbly honouring, gave it to the Queen,
With this fair speech, _See, fairest Queen!_ quoth he,
_The fairest sight that ever shall be seen,
And th' only wonder of posterity!
The richest work in Nature's treasury!
Which she disdains to shew on this world's stage,
And thinks it far too good for our rude age._

121.

_But in another world, divided far,
In the great fortunate triangled Isle,
Thrice twelve degrees removed from the North Star,
She will this glorious Workmanship compile,
Which she hath been conceiving all this while
Since the world's birth; and will bring forth at last,
When six and twenty hundred years are past._

122.

PENELOPE the Queen, when she had viewed
The strange eye-dazzling admirable sight,
Fain would have praised the State and Pulchritude;
But she was stricken dumb with wonder quite,
Yet her sweet mind retained her thinking might.
Her ravished mind in heavenly thoughts did dwell;
But what she thought, no mortal tongue can tell.

123.

You, Lady Muse, whom JOVE the Counsellor
Begot of MEMORY, Wisdom's Treasuress,
To your divining tongue is given a power
Of uttering secrets, large and limitless;
You can PENELOPE'S strange thoughts express;
Which she conceived, and then would fain have told,
When she the wondrous Crystal did behold.

124.

Her wingèd thoughts bore up her mind so high
As that she weened she saw the glorious throne,
Where the bright Moon doth sit in Majesty:
A thousand sparkling stars about her shone,
But she herself did sparkle more, alone,
Than all those thousand beauties would have done,
If they had been confounded all in one.

125.

And yet she thought those stars moved in such measure,
To do their Sovereign honour and delight,
As soothed her mind with sweet enchanting pleasure,
Although the various Change amazed her sight,
And her weak judgement did entangle quite:
Besides, their moving made them shine more clear;
As diamonds moved more sparkling do appear.

126.

This was the Picture of her wondrous thought!
But who can wonder that her thought was so,
Sith VULCAN, King of Fire, that Mirror wrought
(Which things to come, present, and past doth know),
And there did represent in lively show
Our glorious English Court's divine Image,
As it should be in this our Golden Age?

[_See duplicate ending from this point on the next pages._]

127.

Away, TERPSICHORE, light Muse, away!
And come, URANIA, Prophetess divine!
Come, Muse of Heaven, my burning thirst allay!
Even now, for want of sacred drink, I pine:
In heavenly moisture dip this pen of mine,
And let my mouth with nectar overflow,
For I must more than mortal glory show!

128.

O that I had HOMER'S abundant vein,
I would hereof another Ilias make!
Or else the Man of Mantua's charmèd brain,
In whose large throat great JOVE the thunder spake!
O that I could old GEOFFREY'S Muse awake,
Or borrow COLIN'S fair heroic style,
Or smooth my rhymes with _DELIA'S_ servant's file!

129.

O could I, sweet Companion, sing like you
Which of a _Shadow_, under a shadow sing!
Or like fair SALVES' sad lover true!
Or like the Bay, the marigold's darling,
Whose sudden verse, Love covers with his wing!
O that your brains were mingled all with mine,
T' enlarge my Wit for this great work divine!

130.

Yet ASTROPHEL might one for all suffice.
Whose supple Muse camelion-like doth change
Into all forms of excellent device:
So might the Swallow, whose swift Muse doth range
Through rare _Idæas_ and inventions strange,
And ever doth enjoy her joyful Spring,
And Sweeter than the Nightingale doth sing.

131.

O that I might that singing Swallow hear,
To whom I owe my service and my love!
His sugared tunes would so enchant mine ear,
And in my mind such sacred fury move,
As I should knock at heaven's great gate above,
With my proud rhymes; while, of this heavenly state,
I do aspire the Shadow to relate.

FINIS.

[_In later editions a different ending of the poem was substituted for the above, from after Stanza 126, thus:_

* * * * *

_Here are wanting some stanzas describing Queen
ELIZABETH.

Then follow these:_

127.

Her brighter dazzling beams of Majesty
Were laid aside: for she vouchsafed awhile
With gracious, cheerful, and familiar eye,
Upon the Revels of her Court to smile,
For so Time's journey she doth oft beguile:
Like sight no mortal eye might elsewhere see
So full of State, Art, and variety.

128.

For of her Barons brave, and Ladies fair
(Who had they been elsewhere, most fair had been),
Many an incomparable lovely pair
With hand-in-hand were interlinkèd seen,
Making fair honour to their sovereign Queen:
Forward they paced, and did their pace apply
To a most sweet and solemn melody.

129.

So subtle and curious was the measure
With such unlooked-for change in every strain,
As that PENELOPE rapt with sweet pleasure
Weened she beheld the true proportion plain
Of her own web, weaved and unweaved again:
But that her Art was somewhat less, she thought,
And on a mere ignoble subject wrought.

130.

For here, like to the silkworm's industry,
Beauty itself out of itself did weave
So rare a work, and of such subtlety,
As did all eyes entangle and deceive;
And in all minds a strange impression leave.
In this sweet labyrinth did CUPID stray,
And never had the power to pass away.

131.

As when the Indians, neighbours of the Morning,
In honour of the cheerful rising Sun,
With pearl and painted plumes themselves adorning,
A solemn stately measure have begun;
The god well pleased with that fair honour done,
Sheds forth his beams, and doth their faces kiss
With that immortal glorious face of his:

132.

So * * * *]

Nosce teipsum!

_This Oracle expounded in two
Elegies._

1. Of Human Knowledge.

2. Of the Soul of Man, and the Immortality
thereof.

_LONDON:_

Printed by RICHARD FIELD, for JOHN STANDISH.

1599.

[This work was thus registered for publication at Stationers' Hall:
10 Aprilis [1599].

JOHN STANDYSHE

Entred for his copie A booke called _Nosce Teipsum
The oracle expounded in two Elegies._ 1. _of human
kno[w]ledge._ 2. _of the soule of Man and th[e]
immortality thereof._

Master PONSONBYES

[_the junior Warden_
_at the time_] hand is
to yt.

This is aucthorised vnder the hand of the L[ord]
Bysshop of LONDON PROVYED that yt must not be
printed without his L[ordships] hand to yt again.

_Transcript &c._ iii. 142. _Ed._ 1876.

To my most gracious dread Sovereign.

_To that clear Majesty which in the North
Doth like another sun in glory rise;
Which standeth fixt, yet spreads her heavenly worth
Loadstone to hearts, and loadstar to all eyes:_

_Like heaven in all; like th' earth in this alone,
That though great States by her support do stand,
Yet she herself supported is of none,
But by the finger of th' 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 confined,
To shew the utmost of a creature's power:_

_To that great Spirit which doth great kingdoms 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 to so high a Highness flee._

_Fair Soul, since to the fairest body knit,
You give such lively life, such quick'ning power.
Such sweet celestial influence to it
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!
Ere you in heaven, a glorious angel stand._

_Stay long, sweet Spirit, ere than to heaven depart,
Which mak'st each place a heaven, wherein thou art._

_Her Majesty's least and unworthiest subject,_

_JOHN DAVIES._

Of Human Knowledge.

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 the First Parents, all the rules of good;
So that their skill infused, did pass 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 approached the Eternal Light as near
As th'intellectual angels could have done:

Even then, to them the Spirit of Lies suggests
That they were blind, because they saw not Ill;
And breathes into their incorrupted breasts,
A curious Wish, which did corrupt their Will.

For that same Ill they straight desired 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
Ere they thereof the _knowledge_ could attain;
Like him, that knew not poison's power to kill,
Until, by tasting it, himself was slain.

Even so, by tasting of that fruit forbid,
Where they sought Knowledge, they did Error find;
Ill they desired 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:
Bats they became, that eagles were before;
And this they got by their Desire to Learn.

But we, their wretched offspring, what do we?
Do not we still taste of the fruit forbid?
Whiles, with fond fruitless curiosity,
In books profane we seek for knowledge hid?

What is this Knowledge but the sky-stol'n fire
For which the Thief still chained 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 embraced, he monsters got?
Or the false pails, which oft being filled with pain,
Received the water, but retained it not?

Shortly, 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 burned,
Our bodies wasted, and our spirits spent;
When we have all the learned volumes turned,
Which yield men's wits, both help and ornament:

What can we know? or what can we discern?
When Error chokes the windows of the Mind;
The divers Forms of things how can we learn,
That have been, ever from our birthday, 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 re-collect these beams of knowledge clear,
Which were infused 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 dived most deep, and soared most high,
Seeking man's powers, have found his weakness such;
"Skill comes so slow, and life so fast doth fly;
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, mocked not then,
When he said, _Truth was buried deep below!_

For how may we, to other's things attain,
When none of us, his own Soul understands?
For which, the Devil mocks our curious brain,
When, _Know thyself!_ his oracle commands.

For why should we the busy Soul believe,
When boldly she concludes of that and this?
When of herself, she can no judgement 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 ourselves, we strangers are thereto.

We seek to know the moving of each sphere,
And the strange cause of th' ebbs and floods of Nile;
But of that Clock, which in our breasts we bear,
The subtle motions we forget the while!

We that acquaint ourselves with every zone,
And pass both tropics, and behold both poles;
When we come home, are to ourselves unknown
And unacquainted still with our own souls!

We study Speech, but others we persuade;
We Leechcraft learn, but others cure with it;
We 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 itself, when other things it sees?

No, doubtless, for the Mind can backward cast
Upon herself, her understanding light;
But she is so corrupt, and so defac't,
As her own image doth herself affright.

As in the fable of that Lady fair,
Which, for her lust, was turned into a cow;
When thirsty to a stream she did repair,
And saw herself transformed (she wist not how;)

At first, she startles! then, she stands amazed!
At last, with terror, she from thence doth fly,
And loathes the wat'ry glass wherein she gazed,
And shuns it still, though she for thirst do die.

Even 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 even, at first reflection, she espies
Such strange CHIMERAS and such monsters there!
Such toys! such antics! 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;
So she, impatient her own faults to see,
Turns from herself, and in strange things delights.

For this, few _know themselves_! for merchants broke,
View their estate with discontent and pain;
And seas are troubled, when they do revoke
Their flowing 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 herself, herself can never meet.

Yet if Affliction once her wars begin,
And threat the feeble Sense with sword and fire;
The Mind contracts herself, and shrinketh in,
And to herself she gladly doth retire,

As spiders touched, seek their web's inmost part;
As bees in storms, unto their hives return;
As blood in danger, gathers to the heart;
And men seek towns, when foes the country burn.

If ought can teach us ought, Affliction's looks
(Making us look into ourselves so near)
Teach us to _know ourselves_, beyond all books,
Or all the learned Schools that ever were!

This Mistress, lately, plucked me by the ear,
And many a golden lesson hath me taught,
Hath made my Senses quick, and Reason clear,
Reformed my Will, and rectified my Thought.

So do the winds and thunders cleanse the air;
So working lees settle and purge the wine;
So lopt 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 myself I list not go;
Myself am Centre of my circling thought,
Only Myself, 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 'tis 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 am 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 mocked with every thing:
And to conclude, I _know_ myself a Man;
Which is a proud, and yet a wretched thing!

Of the Soul of Man; and the Immortality thereof.

The Lights of Heaven, 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 this 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, mine inward self to see?
Which sight, the Knowledge of Myself might bring;
Which, to true wisdom, is the first degree.

That Power (which gave me eyes, the world to view)
To view myself, infused 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 sunbeams in the air do shine;
So the best Soul, with her reflecting thought,
Sees not herself, without some light Divine.

O LIGHT! (which makest the Light, which makest the Day;
Which settest the Eye without, and Mind within)
Lighten my spirit, with one clear heavenly ray!
Which now to view itself, doth first begin.

For her true form, how can my Spark discern?
Which dim by Nature, Art did never clear;
When the great wits, of whom all skill we learn,
Are ignorant, both What She is! and Where!

One thinks the Soul is Air, another Fire,
Another, Blood diffused 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 Complexions be:
Epicures make them Swarms of Atomies,
Which do, by change, into our bodies flee!

Some think one General Soul fills every brain,
As the bright sun sheds light in every star;
And others think the name of Soul is vain,
And that We, only Well-mixed Bodies are.

In judgement of her Substance, thus they vary;
And thus they vary in judgement of her Seat;
For some, her chair up to the Brain do carry,
Some thrust it down into the Stomach's heat!

Some place it in the root of life, the Heart;
Some, in the Liver, fountain of the veins;
Some say, "She is all in all, and all in part!"
Some say, "She is not contained, but all contains!"

Thus these great Clerks their little wisdom show,
While with their doctrines, they at hazard play;
Tossing their light opinions to and fro,
To mock the lewd; as learned in this, as they!

For no crazed brain could ever yet propound,
Touching the Soul, so vain and fond a thought;
But some among these Masters, have been found,
Which in their Schools, the selfsame thing have taught.

GOD, only-Wise! to punish Pride of Wit,
Among men's wits hath this confusion wrought!
As the proud Tower, whose points the clouds did hit,
By Tongues' Confusion, was to ruin brought.

But, Thou! which didst Man's Soul, of nothing make!
And when to nothing, it was fallen again;
To make it new, the Form of Man didst take,
And, GOD with GOD, becam'st a Man with men!

Thou! that hast fashioned twice, this Soul of ours,
So that She is, by double title, Thine;
Thou, only, knowest her nature and her powers,
Her subtle form, Thou, only, canst define!

To judge herself, She must herself transcend,
As greater circles comprehend the less:
But She wants power, her own powers to extend,
As fettered men cannot their strength express.

But Thou, bright morning Star! Thou, rising Sun!
Which, in these later times, has brought to light
Those mysteries, that, since the world began,
Lay hid in darkness and eternal night!

Thou, like the sun, doth with indifferent ray,
Into the palace and the cottage shine!
And showest the Soul, both to the Clerk and Lay,
By the clear Lamp of thy Oracle Divine!

This Lamp, through all the regions of my brain,
Where my Soul sits, doth spread such beams of grace,
As now, methinks! I do distinguish plain
Each subtle line of her immortal face.

[Sidenote: What the Soul is?]

The Soul, a Substance and a Spirit is,
Which GOD Himself 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.

[Sidenote: That the Soul is a thing subsisting by itself, without the Body.]

She is a Substance, and a real thing,
1. Which hath, itself, an actual working Might,
2. Which neither from the Sense's power doth spring,
3. Nor from the Body's humours tempered right.

She is a Vine, which doth no propping need,
To make her spread herself, or spring upright;
She is a Star, whose beams do not proceed
From any sun, but from a native light.

[Sidenote: That the Soul hath a proper operation, without the Body.]

For when She sorts things present with the past,
And thereby things to come doth oft foresee;
When She doth doubt at first, and choose at last:
These acts her own, without the Body, be.

When of the dew, which the Eye and Ear do take,
From flowers abroad, and bring into the brain;
She doth, within, both wax and honey make:
This work is hers, this is her proper pain!

When She from sundry acts, one Skill doth draw;
Gathering from divers fights, one Art of War;
From many Cases like, one Rule of Law:
These, her collections, not the Sense's, are.

When in th'Effects, She doth the Causes know;
And seeing the stream, thinks where the spring doth rise;
And seeing the branch, conceives the root below:
These things She views, without the Body's eyes.

When She, without a Pegasus, doth fly
Swifter than lightning's fire, from East to West;
About the Centre, and above the Sky:
She travels then, 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 filled:
By her own power, these miracles are done.

When She defines, argues, divides, compounds;
Considers Virtue, Vice, and General Things;
And marrying diverse principles and grounds,
Out of their match, a true conclusion brings:

These actions, in her closet, all alone,
(Retired within herself) She doth fulfil;
Use of her Body's organs, She hath none,
When She doth use the powers of Wit and Will.

Yet in the Body's prison, so She lies,
As through the Body's windows She must look,
Her divers powers of Sense to exercise,
By gathering notes out of the world's great book.

Nor can herself 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 discerns them by her proper light.

The workman on his stuff, his skill doth shew,
And yet the stuff gives not the man his skill;
Kings, their affairs, do, by their servants know,
But order them by their own royal will.

So though this cunning Mistress, and this Queen
Doth, as her instruments, the Senses use,
To know all things that are Felt, Heard, or Seen;
Yet She herself doth only Judge and Choose:

Even as our great wise Empress (that now reigns
By sovereign title over sundry lands)
Borrows, in mean affairs, her subjects' pains,
Sees by their eyes, and writeth by their hands:

But things of weight and consequence indeed,
Herself doth in her chamber them debate;
Where, all her Councillors she doth exceed
As far in judgement, as she doth in State.

Or as the man, whom she doth now advance,
Upon her gracious Mercy Seat to sit,
Doth common things, of course and circumstance,
To the Reports of common men commit:

But when the Cause itself must be decreed,
Himself in person, in his proper Court,
To grave and solemn hearing doth proceed,
Of every proof, and every by-report.

Then, like God's angel, he pronounceth right,
And milk and honey from his tongue do flow:
Happy are they, that still are in his sight,
To reap the wisdom, which his lips do sow.

Right so, the Soul, which is a Lady free,
And doth the justice of her State maintain;
Because the Senses, ready servants be,
Attending nigh about her Court, the Brain;

By them, the forms of outward things She learns,
For they return unto the Fantasy,
Whatever each of them abroad discerns;
And there enrol it for the Mind to see.

But when She sits to judge the good and ill,
And to discern betwixt the false and true;
She is not guided by the Senses' skill,
But doth each thing in her own mirror view.

Then She the Senses checks! which oft do err,
And even against their false reports, decrees;
And oft She doth condemn, what they prefer,
For with a power above the Sense, She sees:

Therefore, no Sense, the precious joys conceives,
Which in her private contemplations be;
For then, the ravished Spirit, the Senses leaves,
Hath her own powers, and proper actions free.

Her harmonies are sweet and full of skill,
When on the Body's instrument She plays:
But the proportions of the Wit and Will,
Those sweet accords are even the angels' lays.

These tunes of Reason are AMPHION's lyre,
Wherewith he did the Theban city found;
These are the notes, wherewith the heavenly Quire,
The praise of Him, which spreads the heaven, doth sound.

Then her self-being nature shines in this,
That She performs her noblest works alone!
"The work, the touchstone of the nature is!"
And "by their operations, things are known!"

[Sidenote: 2. 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 enrol,
A quick Resulting, and a Consequence?

What is it, then, that doth the Sense accuse,
Both of false judgements, and fond appetites?
Which 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 tower;
Sense saith, "They are crows!" What makes us think them men?
When we, in agues, think all sweet things sour;
What makes us know our tongue's false judgements then?

What power was that, whereby MEDEA saw,
And well approved and praised the better course,
When her rebellious Sense did so withdraw
Her feeble powers, as she pursued the worst?

Did Sense persuade ULYSSES not to hear
The Mermaid's songs? which so his men did please,
As they were all persuaded through the ear,
To quit the ship, and leap into the seas.

Could any power 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 drowned,
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 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, 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 power, which She extends,
Which being in divers parts diversified,
The divers Forms of objects apprehends?

This power spreads outward; but the root doth grow
In th'inward Soul, which only doth perceive;
For the Eyes and Ears, no more their objects know,
Than 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 hear,
Our sights and sounds would always double be.

Then is the Soul a Nature which contains
The power of Sense within a greater power;
Which doth employ and use the senses' pains,
But sits and rules within her private bower.

[Sidenote: 3. That the Soul is more than the Temperature of the Humours of the body.]

If She doth then the subtle Sense excel,
How gross are they, that drown her in the blood!
Or in the Body's humours tempered well,
As if in them, such high perfection stood.

As if most skill in that musician were,
Which had the best and best-tuned instrument;
As if the pencil neat, and colours clear
Had power to make the painter excellent

Why doth not Beauty then refine 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 alchemist 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 power 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! maimed! and blind!
But we perceive, when these privations be,
A 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 herself absent!
And in the Body's substance not the mist.

But it on Her, not She on it depends,
For She the Body doth sustain and cherish.
Such secret powers of life to it, She lends;
That when they fail, then doth the Body perish.

Since, then, the Soul works by herself alone,
Springs not from Sense, nor Humours well agreeing;
Her nature is peculiar, and her own.
She is a Substance! and a Perfect Being.

[Sidenote: That the Soul is a Spirit.]

But though this Substance be the root of Sense,
Sense knows her not! (which doth but bodies know)
She is a Spirit, and a heavenly 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 alchemists do find,
When they, in everything, seek gold, _in vain_.

For She, all natures under heaven 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.

Yet of the forms, She holds the first degree,
That are to gross material bodies knit;
Yet She herself is bodiless and free,
And, though confined, is almost infinite.

[Sidenote: That it cannot be a Body.]

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 confined within some place;
But She all place within herself 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,
Except the one, the other do deface;
But in the Soul, ten thousand forms do sit,
And none intrudes into her neighbour's place.

All bodies are, with other bodies filled,
But She receives both heaven and earth together,
Nor are their Forms, by rash encounter, spilled,
For there they stand, and neither toucheth either.

Nor can her wide embracements fillèd be;
For they that most and greatest things embrace,
Enlarge thereby their mind's capacity,
As streams enlarged, enlarge the channel's space.

All things received, do such proportion take,
As those things have, wherein they are received:
So little glasses, little faces make;
And narrow webs, on narrow frames be weaved:

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.

Doubtless, this could not be, but that She turns
Bodies to Spirits, by sublimation strange;
As fire converts to fire, the things it burns;
As we, our meats into our nature change.

From their gross Matter, she abstracts the Forms,
And draws a kind of Quintessence from things,
Which to her proper nature, She transforms,
To bear them light on her celestial wings.

This doth She, when from things particular,
She doth abstract the universal kinds,
Which bodiless and immaterial are,
And can be lodged but only in our minds.

And thus, from divers accidents and acts,
Which do within her observation fall;
She, goddesses and Powers Divine abstracts,
As Nature, Fortune, and the Virtues all.

Again, how can She, several bodies know,
If in herself a body's form She bears?
How can a mirror sundry faces show,
If from all shapes and forms it be not clear?

Nor could we by our eyes, all colours learn,
Except our eyes were, of all colours void,
Nor sundry tastes can any tongue discern,
Which is with gross and bitter humours cloyed.

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 power a Body were,
Were it as swift, as is the wind or fire,
(Whose atomies do, th' one down sideways bear,
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 Spain,
And thence returns, as soon as She is sent,
She measures with one time and with one pain,
An ell of silk, and heaven's wide-spreading tent.

As then, the Soul a Substance hath alone
Besides the Body, in which She is confined;
So hath She _not_ a body of her own,
But is a Spirit and immaterial Mind.

[Sidenote: That the Soul is created immediately by God.--_Zach_, xii. x.]

Since Body and Soul have such diversities;
Well, might we muse, how first their match began,
But that we learn, that He, that spread the skies
And fixed the earth, first formed the Soul in Man.

This true PROMETHEUS, first, made man of earth,
And shed in him a beam of heavenly fire:
Now, in their mother's womb, before their birth,
Doth in all sons of men, their souls inspire.