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And yet this first true cause, and last good end,
She cannot here so well and truly see;
For this perfection she must yet attend,
Till to her Maker she espoused be.

As a king's daughter, being in person sought
Of divers princes, who do neighbour near,
On none of them can fix a constant thought,
Though she to all do lend a gentle ear:

Yet she can love a foreign emperor,

Whom of great worth and pow'r she hears to be, If she be woo'd but by ambassador,

Or but his letters or his pictures see:

For well she knows, that when she shall be brought Into the kingdom where her spouse doth reign; Her eyes shall see what she conceiv'd in thought, Himself, his state, his glory, and his train.

So while the virgin soul on Earth doth stay,

She woo'd and tempted in ten thousand ways, By these great pow'rs, which on the Earth bear sway;

The wisdom of the world, wealth, pleasure, praise:

With these sometimes she doth her time beguile,
These do by fits her fantasy possess;
But she distastes them all within awhile,
And in the sweetest finds a tediousness.

But if upon the world's Almighty King,

She once doth fix her humble loving thought, Who by his picture drawn in ev'ry thing,

And sacred messages, her love hath sought;

Of him she thinks she cannot think too much;
This honey tasted still is ever sweet;
The pleasure of her ravish'd thought is such,
As almost here she with her bliss doth meet:

But when in Heav'n she shall his essence see,
This is her sov'reign good, and perfect bliss;
Her longing, wishings, hopes, all finish'd be ;
Her joys are full, her motions rest in this:

There is she crown'd with garlands of content;
There doth she manna eat, and nectar drink :
That présence doth such high delights present,
As never tongue could speak, nor heart could
think.

REASON III.

From contempt of death in the better sort of spirits.

For this, the better souls do oft despise

The body's death, and do it oft desire; For when on ground the burthen'd balance lies, The empty part is lifted up the higher:

But if the body's death the soul should kill, Then death must needs against her nature be; And were it so, all souls would fly it still,

For nature hates and shuns her contrary.

For all things else, which Nature makes to be, Their being to preserve, are chiefly taught; And though some things desire a change to see, Yet never thing did long to turn to naught.

If then by death the soul were quenched quite, She could not thus against her nature run; Since ev'ry senseless thing, by Nature's light, Doth preservation seek, destruction shun.

Nor could the world's best spirits so much err, If Death took all, that they should all agree, Before this life their honour to prefer:

For what is praise to things that nothing be?

Again, if by the body's prop shé stand;
If on the body's life, her life depend,
As Meleager's on the fatal brand,

The body's good she only would intend:

We should not find her half so brave and bold,
To lead it to the wars, and to the seas,
To make it suffer watchings, hunger, cold,
When it might feed with plenty, rest with ease.

Doubtless, all souls have a surviving thought,
Therefore of death we think with quiet mind;
But if we think of being turn'd to naught,
A trembling horrour in our souls we find.

REASON IV.

From the fear of death in the wicked souls.

AND as the better spirit, when she doth bear

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A scorn of death, doth show she cannot die; So when the wicked soul Death's face doth fear, E'en then she proves her own eternity.

For when Death's form appears, she feareth not
An utter quenching or extinguishment;
She would be glad to meet with such a lot,
That so she might all future ill prevent:

But she doth doubt what after may befall;
For Nature's law accuseth her within,
And saith, ""T is true what is affirm'd by all,
That after death there is a pain for sin."

Then she who hath been hoodwink'd from her birth,
Doth first herself within Death's mirror see;
And when her body doth return to earth,
She first takes care, how she alone shall be.

Who ever sees these irreligious men,
With burthen of a sickness weak and faint,
But hears them talking of religion then,

And vowing of their souls to ev'ry saint?

When was there ever cursed atheist brought
Unto the gibbet, but he did adore
That blessed pow'r, which he had set at naught,
Scorn'd and blasphem'd all his life before?

These light vain persons still are drunk and mad, With surfeitings and pleasures of their youth; But at their death they are fresh, sober, sad; Then they discern, and then they speak the truth.

If then all souls, both good and bad, do teach,

With gen'ral voice, that souls can never die; "T is not man's flatt'ring gloss, but Nature's speech, Which, like God's oracles, can never lie.

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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 choose 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 humours, and the rage appease, Which this distemper in the fancy 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.

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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 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:

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But as Noah's pigeon, which return'd no more,

Did show, she footing found, for all the flood; So when good souls, departed through Death's door,

Come not again, it shows their dwelling good..

And doubtless, such a soul as up doth mount,
And doth appear before her Maker's face,
Holds this vile world in such a base account,

As she looks down and scorns this wretched place.

But such as are detruded down to Hell,

Either for shame, they still themselves retire; Or ty'd in chains, they in close prison dwell, And cannot come, although they much desire.

OBJECTION V.

Well, well, say these vain spirits, though vain it is To think our souls to Heav'n or Hell do go; Politic men have thought it not a miss,

To spread this lie, to make mea virtuous so.

ANSWER.

Do you then think this moral virtue good?
I think you do, ev'n for your private gain;
For commonwealths by virtue ever stood,
And common good the private doth contain.

If then this virtue you do love so well,

Have you no means, her practice to maintain; But you this lie must to the people tell,

That good souls live in joy, and ill in pain?

Must virtue be preserved by a lie?

Virtue and truth do ever best agree; By this it seems to be a verity,

Since the effects so good and virtuous be.

For, as the Devil the father is of lies,

So vice and mischief do his lies ensue : Then this good doctrine did not he devise;

But made this lie, which saith, it is not true.

For, how can that be false, which ev'ry tongue
Of ev'ry mortal man affirms for true?
Which truth hath in all ages been so strong,
As, load-stone like, all hearts it ever drew.

For, not the Christian, or the Jew alone,
The Persian, or the Turk, acknowledge this;
This mystery to the wild Indian known,
And to the cannibal and Tartar is.

This rich Assyrian drug grows ev'ry where;
As common in the north as in the east:
This doctrine doth not enter by the ear,
But of itself is native in the breast.

None that acknowledge God, or providence,
Their soul's eternity did ever doubt;
For all religion taketh root from hence,
Which no poor naked nation lives without.

For since the world for man created was,
(For only man the use thereof doth know)
If man do perish like a wither'd grass,

How doth God's wisdom order things below?

And if that wisdom still wise ends propound, Why made he man, of other creatures, king; When (if he perish here) there is not found

In all the world so poor and vite a thing?

If death do quench us quite, we have great wrong, Since for our service all things else were wrought; That daws, and trees, and rocks should last so long, When we must in an instant pass to naught.

But bless'd be that Great Pow'r, that hath us bless'd With longer life than Heav'n or Earth can have; Which hath infus'd into our mortal breast

Immortal pow'rs not subject to the grave.

For though the soul do seem her grave to bear,
And in this world is almost bury'd quick,
We have no cause the body's death to fear;
For when the shell is broke, out comes a chick.

SECTION XXXÍIL

THREE KINDS OF LIFE ANSWERABLE TO THREE POWERS OF THE SOUL.

For as the soul's essential pow'rs are three ;
The quick'ning pow'r, the pow'r of sense and reason;
Three kinds of life to her designed be, [son.

Which perfect these three pow'rs in their due sea

The first life in the mother's womb is spent, Where she the nursing pow'r doth only use; Where, when she finds defect of nourishment,

Sh' expels her body, and this world she views.

This we call birth; but if the child could speak,
He death would call it; and of nature plain,
That she would thrust him out naked and weak, i
And in his passage pinch him with such pain.

Yet out he comes, and in this world is plac'd,
Where all his senses in perfection be;
Where he finds flow'rs to smell, and fruits to taste,
And sounds to hear, and sundry forms to see.

When he hath pass'd some time upon the stage,
His reason then a little seems to wake; [age,
Which though she spring when sense doth fade with
Yet can she here no perfect practice make.

Then doth aspiring soul the body leave,

Which we call death; but were it known to all, What life our souls do by this death receive, .Men would it birth or jail-deliv'ry call.

In this third life, reason will be so bright,

As that her spark will like the sun-beams shine, And shall of God enjoy the real sight, Being still increas'd by influence divine.

SECTION XXXIV.

THE CONCLUSION.

O IGNORANT poor man! what dost thou bear? Lock'd up within the casket of thy breast? What jewels, and what riches hast thou there? What heav'nly treasure in so weak a chest?

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