THE SECOND LASH OF ALAZONOMASTIX laid on in mercie upon that stubborn youth Eugenius Philalethes: OR A Sober Reply to a very uncivill Answer to certain OBSERVATIONS upon Anthroposophia Theomagica, and Anima magica abscondita.

Proverb. He that reprooves a scorner, gets to himself a blot.

Ecclesiastic. Be not proud in the device of thine own mind, lest thy soul rend thee as a Bull.

Printed by the Printers to the University of Cambridge. 1651.

THE SECOND LASH OF Alazonomastix: Conteining a solid and serious REPLY to a very uncivill Answer to certain OBSERVATIONS upon Anthroposophia Theomagica, and Anima Magica Abscondita.

Proverb. He that reproves a scorner, gets to himself a blot.

Ecclesiastic. Be not proud in the device of thine own mind, lest thy soul rend thee as a Bull.

Printed by the Printers to the University of Cambridge. 1651. A

To his singularly accomplish'd friend Mr. John Finch.


I Know that your modestie cannot but be much amazed at this unexpected De­dication. But the causes once discovered admiration will cease. Eugenius, as little children use to do (who fallen into the dirt by their own folly, commonly make a lamenta­ble complaint to their Father or Mother a­gainst them that help them up, as if they had flung them down) has told a hideous storie to his Tutour, as if I had soyl'd him and dir­tied him, when as I onely reminded him that he lay in the dirt, which in this case is all one as to help him out of it. Wherefore, that I might hold up the humour every way of op­posing my Adversary (as I must for fashion­sake [Page 4] call him) he making his false and grie­vous Accusation to his Tutour, I thought fit to direct this my true and pleasant Reply to you my Pupil.

But if I should say, that this is so much as the least part of what moved me to this act, I confesse I should dissemble. For to say no­thing of the Noblenesse of your Descent, which is held ordinarily a sufficient ground for such a respect as this: it is indeed the Sweetness and Candour of your nature, your great Civilitie and Pleasantnesse of Conver­sation, your miraculous Proficiencie in the choicest parts of Philosophy, your egregi­ous Perspicacity and kindly Wit, your gene­rous Freedome of spirit, and true Nobleness of mind (whom the surly countenance of sad Superstition cannot aw, but the lovely face of Vertue, and radiant Beautie of Di­vine Knowledge do most potently command to approve and prosecute what is really best) that has extorted this Testimony of love and respect from

Your affectionate friend to serve you, Alaz. Philalethes.

To his learned Friend Alazonomastix Philalethes, upon his Reply.

DEar friend! as oft as I with care peruse
This strange Reply of thine, I cannot chuse one.
But wonder at thy rare Complexion,
Where Wit, Mirth, Judgement thus conspire in
Where Inspirations which make others mad
Unto thy Reason, grace and credit add;
And Passion, that like dungeon dark, do's blind
Proves the free fiery chariot of thy mind.
Go surly Stoick, with deep-furrowed brow,
Natures rude Pruner, that wilt not allow
What's right & good. Here nought too much ap­pears
Unless on thy shorn head thine own large ears.
Since Mastix merry rage, all now beleeve
Passion's an arm of man, no hanging sleeve.
Brave generous Choler! whose quick motions pierce
Swift like the lightning through the Universe;
And in their hasty course as on they fare
Do clense mens souls of vice, as that, the Air.
Noble Contention! which like brushing winds
That sweep both Land and Sea, doth purge our minds.
It is thy free and ever-active fire
That rooseth men from snorting in the mire:
Androoz'd, thy aw makes them to tread the stage
In a due Order and right Equipage.
Thy hiss more dreadfull is then wounding sting
Of serpents teeth, that certain death do bring:
And conscious souls start at thy laughter loud
As at a Thunder-clap broke from a cloud,
When Jove some flash of world-rebuking wit
Lets flie, and faultless Gods all laugh at it:
For so ridiculous vice in ugly guize
Is made the sport and pastime of the wise.
But when fond men themselves to their own face
Have their foul shapes reflected, the disgrace
And conscience of deformity so stings
Their gauled minds, and fretted entrayls wrings,
That even grown wild with pain in vain they tire
Themselves, to shake off this close searching fire;
That sticks like burning pitch, and makes them wood
As Hercules wrapt in the Centaurs blood.
This is thy fate, Eugenius! Thy odde look
Reflected to thy self from Mastix book,
Has so amaz'd thee with the sudden glance,
That all thy wits be struck into a trance.
But Grief and Vengeance thou dost so revive,
As if to them alone thou wert alive.
And onely takest care with language foul
To soyl his person, that would clense thy soul.
Thus the free chearfull Sun with his bright rayes
Shines upon dnnghils, fens, and foul high-wayes,
While they return nought back for his pure beams
But thick unwholsome mysts & stinking steams.
But yet at length neare his Meridian height
Dispells the Morning-fogs by fuller light.
Go on brave Mastix then, those noysome fumes
Thy first appearance rais'd, sure this consumes.
Joannes Philomastix.

To the Reader.


IF thou hast perused my Observations up­on the two Magicall Treatises of Eugenius Philalethes, and his Answer to them, I do not doubt but that seeming and personated sharpnesse of mine will now seem just no­thing at all, to thy indifferent judgement; if thou compare it with his unchristian bitter­nesse and inhumane railings against me. For mine own part, I was so farre from all malice, that if I have trespassed, it was from that over-pleasantnesse of temper I was in, when I wrote: which made me perhaps too heed­lesse how much I might displease the party with whom I dealt, being secure of the truth of that saying in the Poet,

— Ridentem dicere verum Quis vetat? —

But I find that I have so nettled him una­wares, as if his senses lay all in his backside, [Page 9] and had left his brains destitute. Which hath made him very ill-favouredly wrong both himself, the Rod, and the Correctour. Ve­rily if I had thought his retentive faculty had been so weak, I would not have fouled my fingers with medling with him. Nor would I now lay on this second gentle lash (I seeing the disposition of my young Eugenius) if it were not as well to wipe my self, as to whip him. I could have been content to have been re­presented to the world as ignorant of Nature and Philosophy, as he hath by his bold and very bad speeches to me, endeavoured to re­present me. For I am not bound in consci­ence to know Nature, but my self; nor to be a deep Philosopher, but to be and approve my self a plain and honest Christian. This forced me to this Reply. But I thought fit to cast in also, what will prove me no lesse a Philoso­pher, then no Rayler.

But I am not contented to justifie my self onely from the successe; but to thy further satisfaction, I shall not think much to ac­quaint thee with my purposes and principles. The truth is, Eugenius, though he be so high­ly [Page 10] conceited of himself, that he thinks his worth is great enough to contract my envy; yet he is so little in my eyes, and my self (I thank God) so little envious, that in this re­gard he is not at all considerable to me. But my drift was to whip that Genius and dispen­sation he is for the present under, upon Euge­nius his own back, as having deserved to be an instrument to so good an end. And I perswade my self there are those parts and that freedome in some measure already in this young Philosopher, that in a little time he will say that he deserved this correction, & will laugh for companie at the merry punish­ment, and will freely confesse that I am his brother Philalethes, a lover of him and of Truth: And that he that whipped the money changers out of the Temple, is as much the first Mastix, as Adam the first Magicus. But for the present he is under that dispensa­tion which is as pernicious to the nature of man and Christianity it self, as it is, to the so­ber and wife, ridiculous. For he is even in a feaverish thirst after knowledge and fame, & (as he hath made it manifest to the world) [Page 11] more after fame by farre then knowledge. Wherefore, I observing in his Theomagicall tumour and loftinesse nothing but confident misapplying or conceitedly interpreting the holy Writ, the drift and meaning whereof is farre above all naturall Philosophy or tricks of Magick whatsoever: and then a sleight­ing and scorning those that, I dare say, he doth not understand, who yet are very rationall and intelligible, I mean such as Des Cartes: and down right rayling against the Aristote­leans and Galenists, who yet have many sober and usefull truths amongst them: Moreover, I noting a melancholick, flatuous and heed­lesse phansie to appear in his writings, clothed with sonorous and amazing terms, such as might rather astonish the ignorant, then teach the docible: Add unto al this, that it is too too common a disease now adayes to be driven by heedlesse intoxicating imaginations under pretense of higher strains of Religion and supernaturall light, and by bidding adieu to sober reason and a purified mind, to grow first fanaticall; and then Atheisticall and sen­suall, even almost to the height of abhorred [Page 12] Gnosticisme: I thought in good earnest it was very fit, out of my indignation to Foolery and Imposture, out of my detestation to Beastlinesse, Atheisme, and Sensuality, and lastly, out of that honourable respect and tender affection I bear to the Plainesse and Simplicity of the life of Christ and true di­vine Wisdome, to take occasion to write in such a manner as I did, and to discountenance that Genius, that defaces the new appearing face of Christendome, and is a reproach to that just liberty that belongs to all those that seek after God in sincerity and truth.

I but you will say, This indeed may be well meant: But what title or right have you to intermeddle, or to correct another mans follies? This is usurpation and incivility. To this may many things be answered. It is true; The inward rottenness of men hath made ve­ry smooth laws to themselves in favour of their own follies and vices, and mutuall con­nivence at what is bad is held the best man­ners; as if mankind pack'd and conspired to­gether to keep wickedness warm in her usurp­ed seat by never taking the boldnesse to exa­mine [Page 13] her title. But to judge more charitably of the generations of men, I think it is more out of self-love, then love to her, and out of a tender dotage toward this imposturous knot of Atoms, our earthly Personality. Which yet I thought I was more favourable to here, having to do onely with fictitious names not any known Person. But it doth not follow, Though this be the mode, that therefore it is the right fashion: and Quando ego non curo tuum, ne cura meum, is but surlely said of the old man in the Comedy. That's the principle of Cain, Am I my brothers keeper? There was more divine generosity in that noted Cynick, then in civility it self, when it is so soft, that it will not prick nor hurt vice. He would not spare to speak where things went amisse, however he sped for it; tanquam Pater omnium, tanquam Frater omnium, as they report of him. And I think I have sped ill enough for my but seasonable speaking.

But if this be to appeal to too high a law, I answer further, that Eugenius had forfeited his priviledges he might claim by the laws of civility, he himself having so uncivilly dealt [Page 14] with others, that are above all comparison better then he. I but you'll say, Why do you make him so ridiculous in your reproving him? Single reproof had been enough. I answer, I did not make him ridiculous, but found him so. He put on himself the pyde coat, and I onely drew aside the curtain. Did not the Thracian Girl rightly laugh at Thales when she see him stumble into a ditch, whiles he was staring up at the starres? And are not they as ridiculous, that pretend to Seraphick mysterious Theories, and are not masters yet of common sense, and plainest truths of Christianity? That stumble at the threshold, or rather grope for the dore as the blinded Sodomites? All the faculties of man are good in themselves, and the use of them, is at least permitted to him, provided that with sea­sonable circumstances and upon a right ob­ject. And I have made it already manifest that my Act was bounded with these cautions

I but there is yet something behind unsa­tisfied. Though Eugenius be ridiculous; yet is it not ridiculous, for one that pretends so much to the love of Christianitie as your self, [Page 15] so publickly to laugh at him? That pinches indeed. Why! am I so venerable a Person­age? I am sure I never affected to seem any such to the world yet. I wear no sattin ears, nor silk cap with as many seams as there are streaks in the back of a lute. I affect neither long prayers nor a long beard, nor walk with a smooth-knobbed staff to sustein my Gravi­ty. If I be a Precisian, as Eugenius would have me, it must be from hence that I precise­ly keep my self to the naked truth of Chri­stianity. As for Sects, Ceremonies, super­stitious Humours, or specious garbs of San­ctimony, I look on them all, if affected, as the effects of Ignorance, or masks of Hypocrisie. And thus am I [...], a Gentleman in querpo, a meer man, a true man, a Christian. One that never thinks himself so great, as to grow unweildy & unready to put himself into any shape or posture for a cōmon good. And I prethee, Reader, why may not such a Chri­stian as this laugh? Or tell me, Who is he in Heaven that laughs them to scorn, that has the opposers of the reigne of Christ in derisi­on? God is not a man that he should laugh, [Page 16] no more then cry or repent, as much as con­cerns the Divine Essence it self: But as God is in a Deiform man he may be said to laugh, and he can be said to laugh no where else. And if he might, yet that which is attributed to God, though [...], cannot mis-become a good man. Thus, Reader, is your argument against laughing as solidly argued as sportingly laughed out of counte­nance; and affected austerity made ridiculous by the plain and unaffected reasonings of Eugenius his merry Adversary, but

Your sober and serious friend Alazonomastix Philalethes.

To Eugenius Philalethes.


THe reason why you heard not from me sooner, is because yours arrived to my hands later then I exspected. It was so hot it seems, that none of my acquaintance had so hard and brawny fingers as to indure the dandling of this glowing coal till its conveyance where you would have it. It is a brand from that fire, that hath not onely calcined, but so vitrified Eugenius, that it hath made him transparent to all the world. All men may see now through his glassy sides how unevenly and disorderly his black heart beats & pants; they need not feel his pulse to find his distemper. AEsops fair water but a little warmed hath proved a very effectuall Emetick for thee, O Philalethes, and hath made thee vomit up thy shame and folly in the sight of the world, as his Accuser did the figs before his Master. So that that which you falsely supposed me to have [Page 18] endeavoured, you have fatally brought upon your self, above the desire, I should think, of your bit­terest enemies, I am sure beyond the exspectation of me that am your reall friend. I did not en­deavour your personall disgrace, but the discoun­tenancing of that, which in my judgement is the disgrace of your person, and many other per­sons besides. And now that you have done me the greatest despight you can imagine, and show'd your malice to the full, so that in the court of Hea­ven and according to the doctrine of Christ you are no better then a murderer, yet for all this I am benignly affected to you still, and wish you as much good, as I do those, that never endea­voured to provoke me. And really I speak it from my soul, if it lay in my power to do it, you should find it. But for the present, I could in my judgement do nothing more proper, considering all circumstances, then what I have done, and still do, in advertising you of what is for the best. And truly, (looking upon you in some sort as a Noctambulo, one that walks in his sleep) that book which hath proved so mischeivous a scan­dal, I intended onely for a stumble to wake you, (that you might shrugg and rub your eyes, and [Page 19] see in what a naked condition you are,) not stone of offense for you to fall upon and hurt you But you are fallen and hurt, and yet do not awake as if Mercuries rod, or 1 know not what other force of Magick still held fast your eyes. You one­ly mutter against the present disturbance, as one shogged while he dreams upon his pillow, but you still sleep. You cry out as one cramp'd in your bed, but your closed sight can not discern whether it be a friend in sport or for better purpose, or whether it be your foe to torture you. Awake Eugenius! Awake, Behold, it is I, your sportfully troublesome friend, or what you will in due time acknowledge, though in this present drousie humour you puff at it, and kick against it,

Your carefull and vigilant brother ALAZONOMASTIX PHILALETHES.

¶ The second Lash of Alazonomastix.

ANd now, Eugenius, if it be as law­full for me to speak to one asleep, as it was for Diogenes to talk to Pillars and Posts that are not in a capacity of ever being awake: Let me tell you (to begin with your Title-page first) that you do very much undervalue and wrong your self, that you being a gentleman of that learning and parts that you are, you will thus poorly condescend to that contemptible trade of a Mous-catcher: And that you are not con­tent to abuse your self onely, but you do ab­use Scripture too, by your ridiculous apply­ing St. Pauls fighting with beasts at Ephesus, to your combating with, and overcoming of a mouse. Truly, Philalethes, I think, they that have the meanest opinion of you, would give you their suffrage for a taller office then [Page 22] this, and adjudge you at least worthy of the place of a Rat-catcher.

As for your Epistle Dedicatory, I con­ceive you have a very indulgent Tutour, else you would not be so bold to utter so foul lan­guage in his hearing. You have a very fami­liar friend of him, if you can without breach of civilitie thus freely vomit up your figs in­to his bosome,

But for P. B. of Oxenford his verses, I will onely set this one verse of Virgil's against them all;

Qui Bavium non odit, amet tua carmina, Maevi.

Thus you see how gladly I would rid my self of all your foul language and fooleries. I have nimbly run through these, I shall leap over the rest as so many dirty ditches. Your slovingly speeches and uncivil raylings, you must seek an answer for them in Billinsgate, or amongst the Butchers;

Nobis non licet csse tam disertis.

But where you bring any thing that bears any shew of reason with it, I will (though it be farre below me to answer so foul a mouth) [Page 23] return what in the judgement of the sober, I hope will not fail to be approved as satisfa­ctorie.

Pag. 4, and 5.

In these pages you accuse me of very high incivility and immoralitie. And it is an ac­cusation worth the answering, especially be­ing set off with that great aggravation of be­ing committed against one that is a Christi­an. But verily, Philalethes, I do not meet with any man now that takes you to be such, after this specimen, as I call it, of your Kainish and unchristian dealing with me, whom in­different judges will not think to have deser­ved the hundredth part of this revenge. I tell thee, Eugenius, there is no Christian but who is partaker of the holy unction, [...] of the divine Nature, and of that pure and peaceable love. But if thou thinkest thy mere Baptisme will make thee a Christian (while in the mean time thy heart is possessed of un­cleanness and hatred, which the law of Christ interprets murder) the heathen Poet is able to shew thee thy grosse errour in this point;

Ah nimiùm faciles! qui tristia crimina caedis Flumineâ tolli posse putatis aquâ,
Oh fools and credulous! that think you may
By water wash sad guilt of bloud away.

But to the accusation and charge it self: which is this; That I say you are Simon Ma­gus-like, a Heated noddle, a Mome, a Mimick, an Ape, a mere Animal, a Snail, a Philosophik hog, a Nip-crust, a Pick-pocket, a Niggard, Tom fool with a devils head and horns, one that desires to be a Conjurer more then a Christian. This is the first part of your charge. But before I answer to the particulars of it, or proceed to the other, these two things are to be noted; First, that you have drained all the sharper humour that was but thinly di­spersed through the body of my book into two narrow places, that you may make them appear like two angry boyls, or malignant pushes in the bodie; which if it were done in the soundest body that is, there would be the like seeming distemper. Secondly, it is to be considered that I did professe that I would put my self in some seeming posture of harsh­nesse and incivilitie, that I might shew you [Page 25] your own reall miscarriage to others, by imi­tating and personating the same toward your self. But the thing that I contend for now, is, that this personated incivility and harshnes of mine is nothing so harsh and uncivill as you do here make it, as will appear from the causes or occasionall circumstances of this hard language you have thus culled out. For to begin with the first: You having a de­signe to seem no smal thing in the world, and also pretending to Magick; how easily, how naturally do's it fall into the mind of a man, to compare you to Simon Magus in these re­gards? And if you did not walk as all touchy proud men do, as it were with their skins flean off, such a light thing as this would not smart nor hurt you so sore.

Heated noddle. That's the onely mischief of it that it is true, and your flame and smoke is as conspicuous as that of Aetna and Ve­suvius:

— Quis enim celaverit ignem? Enitet indicio prodita flamma suo.
For who can fire conceal? whose flame shoots out
And shining shews it self to all about.

As your heat and fire has sufficiently done, especially in this your last against me, to your great credit: I am sure to mine, for you have writ so as if you intended to save me from all suspicion of being mistaken in you.

A Mome, a Mimick, and an Ape. I onely said that you were more like those then Ari­stotle: And if you distrust my judgement, I pray you ask any body else.

And to call you a mere Animal occasional­ly in our dispute, Whether the world be an Ani­mal or no: what rudenesse is there in it: worse then this is held no incivilitie betwixt those two famous Philosophers Cardan and Scaliger, whom your Magisterialnesse has made bold to use at least as coursely, as I seem to have used you. But you would it seems have the whole Monopoly of reprehension to your self. And much good may it do you Engenius. My generous liberty of speech has been so well entertained by some in the world, that I shall take up that prudentiall re­solution for the future, Si populus decipi vult, decipiatur.

A Snail. But that a poore snail should [Page 27] stick in your stomach so, Philalethes, I much wonder at it. Certainly as fair as you bid for a Magician, yet I perceive you will be no Gypsie by your abhorrencie from this food.

But a Philosophic Hog, There's a thwack­ing contumely indeed. Truly you are young, Eugenius: and I pray you then please your self, if you had rather be called a Philoso­phick pig. But then you would be afraid that some Presbyterian may click you up for a tithe-pig, and eat you. (This is a pig of your own sow, Phil. a piece of your own wit.) But being a Philosophick pig you may be secure: That's too tough meat for a coun­trey Presbyter. But I prethee Phil. why art thou so offended at the term of Philosophick Hog? The meaning is onely, That thou wouldst pretend to see invisible essences, as that creature is said to see the wind. Do's Christ call himself thief, when he sayes that his coming shall be as a thief in the Night: Peace, for shame Caviller, peace.

Niggard and Nip-crust, viz. of your Theo­magicall notions. That's all I said: And I am such a Nip-crust and Niggard of my speech, that I will say no more.

Pick-pocket. To this I answer fully at Observat. 26. pag. 64. where I shew that there being no suspicion at all of any such fact in you, it makes the conceit harmlesse and without scurrility. And as little scurri­lous is that which follows, viz. Tom-fool, with the devils head and horns. For my speaking of it in such sort as I did, implyes onely that I look upon you as a merry wag playing the child and fooling behind the hangings, and putting out your head by fits with a strange vizard to scare or amaze you [...] familiar comrades and companions. And I pray you, what bitternesse is in all this? But you have made the foulest, ugliest vizard for me in this your book, and put it on my head, to make the world believe that I were both fool and devil incorporate into one per­son. And this you have done out of malice Magicus, and implacable revenge. But I wish you had some black bag or veil, to hide your shame from the world: That is the worst I wish you.

One that desires to be a Conjurer more then to be a Christian: If you like not Conjurer, [Page 29] write Exorcist. That's all I would have meant by it. There is a Conjuring out as well as a Conjuring up the devil. And I wish you were good at the former of these, for your own sake.

But now to apply my Emollient to the o­ther boyl you have made in the body of my little book. You have made the sharp hu­mour swell into this second bunch by your unnaturall draining. A fool in a play, a Jack­pudding, a Thing wholly set in a posture to make the people laugh, a giddy phantastick Conjurer, a poor Kitling, a Calfshead, a vaunting Moun­tebank, a Pander, a sworn enemy to reason, a shittle scull, no good Christian, an Otter, a wa­ [...]er-Rat, Will with the wisp, and Meg with the Lanthorn, Tom-fool in a play, a naturall Fool.

A fool in a play, a Jackpudding, &c. Let the Reader consult the place if there be not a seasonable occasion of reminding you of your over much lightnesse, you taking so grave a task upon you as to be a publick Pro­fessour of Theomagicks.

A giddy phantastick Conjurer. No Conju­rer there but a Phantastick. I admit in you [Page 30] the lesser fault to discharge you of the great­er. Is this to revile you, or befriend you?

A poor Kitling. Poor Kitling! Take it in to thy lap, Phil. and stroke it gently: I war­rant thee it will not hurt thee. Be not so shie why thou art akin to it, Phil. by thy own con­fession. For thou art a Mouse-catcher which is near akin to a Cat, which is also a catche of mice: and a Cat is sire to a Kitling.

A Calfshead. I did not call thee Calfshead Eugenius, but said that no Chymist could extract any substantiall visible form out o [...] thy brains, whereby they may be distinguish­ed from what lies in a Calfshead. And [...] vanting Mountebank is no more, then vanting like a Mountebank. And there is a vast dif­ference in simply calling you Pander, and cal­ling you Pander to Madam Nature: who, a [...] you confesse, complains of your prostitu­tions.

A sworn enemy to reason. Why, Do you not pray against reason, A logicâ liber a [...] Domine? And I think any body would swear you are a reall enemy to that you pray a­gainst, unlesse your devotions be but a mockery.

A shittle skull. My words were, Did your sculler or shittle skull. I hope you do not think, that I meant your skull was so flue and shal­low that boyes might shittle it, and make ducks and drakes on the water with it, as they do with oyster-shels: Or that your self was so Magicall, that you could row to the cry­stall rock in it, as witches are said to do on the seas in an egg-shell. Excuse me, Phil. I meant no such high mysteries. It was onely a pittyfull dry clinch, as light as a nut-shell: something like that gingle of thine, Nation and Indignation.

No good Christian. In that place you bad us show you a good Christian, and you would &c. There I inferre, that (you being at all other times so ready to show your self, and here you slinking back;) you were con­scious to your self that you were no good Christian.

Otter and water-Rat. I said onely that you did waddle on toward the river Usk like an Otter or water-Rat.

Will with the wisp, and Meg with the Lant­horn. I do not call you Will, nor Meg: but tell [Page 32] you, If you walk by River sides and marish places, you may well meet with such compa­nions there as those, to take a turn or two with you.

Tom-fool in a play. Why, is not your name Tom? They tell me it is Tom Vaughan of Je­sus Colledge in Oxford. Well then Tom, Do not you make your self an Actour in a play? For these are your words: I will now with­draw and leave the stage to the next Actour. So here is Tom in the play. But where is the fool? say you. Where is the wisest man? say I. My self sayes Tom Vaughan, I warrant you. Why, then say I, Tom Vaughan is Tom fool in the play. For the fool in the play is to be the wisest man, according to the known proverb.

But how will you wipe off that aspersion of calling me naturall fool, sayes wise Tom. That indeed I confesse impossible, because it was never yet laid on. I said onely, if you had answered the Aristoteleans sic probo's, with mere laughter, you would have proved your self a naturall fool. But he hath not done so, nor is Tom Vaughan a naturall fool I dare [Page 33] swear for him. He has too much naturall heat to be a naturall fool. Blesse thee from mad­nesse, Tom, and all will be well.

But there is yet something else behind' worse then all this: That all these terms of incivilitie must proceed from spight and pro­vocation. And this you place betwixt the two bilious tumours you have raysed, as a ductus communis, or common chanel to con­vey the sharp malignant humour to swell them to the full. It is true, my words run thus; That I have been very fair with you, and though provoked, &c. But this was spoken in the person of an Aristotelean, whom your scornfull usage of their Master Aristotle you may be sure did and does provoke. But in good truth, Philalethes, you did not provoke me at all with your book, unlesse to laugh at you for your Puerilities. I but you have an argument for it, that I was provoked, viz. Because your Theomagicall discourse has so out-done or undone my Ballade of the Soul (as you scornfully call it) that my ignorance in the Platonick Philosophy has now appeared to the world. O rem ridiculam! Thou art a [Page 34] merry Greek indeed, Philalethes, and art set upon't to make the world sport. Thou dost then professe openly to all the world, that thou hast so high a conceit of thy Anthropo­sophia, that it may well dash me out of coun­tenance with my Philosophicall Poems; and that through envie, I being thus wounded, I should by my Alazonomastix endeavour for the ease of my grief, to abate thy credit. What a Suffenus art thou in the esteeming of thy own works, O Eugenius? and of what a pitifull spirit dost thou take Alazonomastix to be? I do professe ex animo, that I could heartily wish that my self were the greatest Ignaro in the world, upon condition I were really no more ignorant then I am: So little am I touched with precellency or out-strip­ping others. (But thou judgest me to have wrote out of the same intoxicating Principle that thou thy self hast, that is, vain glory.) Or however if there was any thing of that when I wrote those Poems, which, I thank God, if any, was very little; yet long ago (I praise that power that inabled me) I brought it down to a degree far lesse then thy unta­med [Page 35] Heat for the present can imagine possi­ble. But you'll say, This is a mysterie above all Magick. What then was the Impulsive of writing against your book? I have told you already, but you are loth to believe me: Mere enmity to immoralitie and foolery. But if it were any thing that might respect my self, it was onely this; That you so care­lessely and confidently adventuring upon the Platonick way, with so much tainted heat and distemper, that to my better composed spirit you seemed not a little disturbed in your phansie, and your bloud to be too hot to be sufficiently rectified by your brain, I thought it safe for me to keep those Books I wrote out of a spirit of sobernesse from reprochfull mistake: For you pretending the same way that I seem to be in, as in your bold and dis­advantagious asserting, The soul to pre-exist, and to come into the bodie open-ey'd as it were, that is, full fraught with divine noti­ons; and making such out-ragiously distorted delineaments of that [...], as the Stoicks call it, the enlivened Universe, with sundry other passages of like grossnesse, I was a­fraid [Page 36] that men judging that this affectation of Platonisme in you, might well proceed from some intemperies of bloud and spirit; and that, there no body else besides us two dealing with these kinds of notions, they might yoke me with so disordered a compa­nion as your self: Reasoning thus with them­selves; Vaughan of Jesus in Oxenford holds the pre-existencie of the Soul, and other Pla­tonick Paradoxes, and we see what a pickle he is in: What think you of More of Christ's, that writ the Platonicall Poems? Nay, what think you of Platonisme it self? Surely, it is all but the fruit of juvenile distemper and in­toxicating heat. But I say, it is the most no­ble and effectuall Engine to fetch up a mans mind to true virtue and holinesse, next to the Bible, that is extant in the world. And that this may not suffer, I have suffered my self to observe upon you what I have observed, my young Engenius. This is true, my Friend, to use your own phrase: And that the world may know that I have not wrote like some bestrid Pythonick or hackneyed Enthusiastick, let them looke & read under what light I [...] and sung that divine Song of the Soul.

But yet, my Muse, still take an higher flight,
Sing of Platonick Faith in the first Good,
That Faith that doth our souls to God unite
So strongly, tightly, that the rapid flood
Of this swift flux of things, nor with foul mud
Can stain, nor strike us off from th' Unity
Wherein we stedfast stand, unshak'd, un­mov'd,
Engrafted by a deep Vitalitie.
The prop and stay of things is Gods Benignity.
All's is the rule of His Oeconomie,
No other cause the creature brought to light,
But the first Goods pregnant secundity:
He to himself is perfect full delight.
He wanteth nought. With his own beams be­dight
He glory has enough. O blasphemy!
That envy gives to God, or sowre despight.
Harsh hearts! that feign in God a Tyranny
Under pretense to encrease his sovereign Majesty.
When nothing can to Gods own self accrew,
Who's infinitely happy; sure the end
Of His Creation simply was to shew
His flowing goodnesse, which He doth out­send
Not for himself: for nought can Him amend,
But to his Creature doth his good impart.
This infinite Good through all the world doth wend,
To fil with Heavenly blisse each willing heart.
So the free Sun doth light and' liven every part.
This is the measure of Gods providence,
The Key of knowledge, the first fair Idee,
The eye of Truth, the spring of living Sense,
Whence sprout Gods secrets, the sweet mystery
Of lasting life, eternall Charity, &c.

And elsewhere in my Poems.

When I my self from mine own self do quit,
And each thing else; then an all-spreaden love
To the vast Universe my soul doth fit,
Makes me half equall to all-seeing Jove.
My mighty wings high stretch'd then clapping light,
I brush the stars and make them shine more bright.
Then all the works of God with close embrace
I dearly hug in my enlarged arms,
All the hid pathes of heavenly love I trace,
And boldly listen to his secret charms,
Then clearly view I where true light doth rise,
And where eternal Night low-pressed lies, & c

This, Philalethes, is that lamp of God in the light whereof my Reason and Phansie have wrought thus many years. This is that true Chymicall fire that has purged my soul and purified it, and has crystallized it into a bright Throne, and shining Habitation of the divine Majesty. This free light is that, which ha­ving held my soul in it self for a time; taught me in a very sensible manner, that vast diffe­rence betwixt the truth and freedome of the Spirit, and anxious impostures of this dark Personality & earthly bondage of the body. This is my Oracle, my Counsellour, my faithfull Instructer and Guide, my Life, my Strength, my Glory, my Joy, my communi­cated God. This is that heavenly flame and bright Sun of Righteousnesse, that puts out the light, and quenches the heat of all world­ly imaginations, and desires whatsoever. All the power and knowledge in Nature that is, all the feats and miraculous performances done by Witches, Magicians, or Devils, they be but toyes and tricks, and are no solid satis­faction [Page 40] of the soul at all (yea, though we had that power upon lawfull terms) if compared with this. And as for divine knowledge, there is none truly so called, without it. He that is come hither, God hath taken him to his own familiar friend, & though he speak to others aloof off in outward Religions and Parables, yet he leads this man by the hand, teaching him intelligible documents upon all the ob­jects of his Providence; speaks to him plain­ly in his own language; sweetly insinuates himself, and possesses all his faculties, Under­standing, Reason, and Memory. This is the Darling of God, and a Prince amongst men, farre above the dispensation of either Miracle or Prophesie. For him the deep searchers and anxious soliciters of Nature drudge and toyl, contenting themselves with the pitifull wa­ges of vain glory or a little wealth. Poor Gi­beonites! that hew wood and draw water for the Temple. This is the Temple of God, this is the Son of God, whom he hath made heir of all things, the right Emmanuel, the holy mystery of the living members of Christ. Hallelujah.

From this Principle which I have here ex­pressed, [Page 41] have all those Poems I have wrote had their Originall: and as many as are mo­ved with them aright, they carry them to this Principle from whence they came. But to those, whose ignorance makes them contemn them, I will onely say to them what our Sa­viour said to Nicodemus; The wind bloweth where it listeth and thou hearest the sound there­of, but knowest not from whence it comes nor whither it goes.

But I am afraid I have stood all this time in a little too high a station for thee, my Phi­lalethes: I descend now and come a little nearer to thee. And now I tell thee further, that thy rash and unworthy abuse of Des­Cartes did move me to write so as I did, more then any personall regard else whatsoever. For I love the Gentleman for his excellent and transcendent naturall wit, and like his Philosophy as a most rationall, coherent, sub­till peice, and an Hypothesis accurately and continuedly agreeing with the Phaenomena of Nature. This is he whom thou callest my fellow fool, to thy own great disparagement. But this is he that I call the wisest Naturalist [Page 42] that ever came to my hands. And having not had the good hap to light on such a rare peice of my own invention, I thought it was the best office I could do the world to bestow my judgement and censure of his. And so now you will say I am become so great a Cartesian that I begin to think but meanly of Platonisme. A wise inference! as if divine and naturall knowledge were inconsistent. I tell thee no, Philalethes: Nor am I become cold to my own Poems. For I say that that divine spirit and life that lyes under them, is worth not onely all the Magick that thou pretend­est to, but all that thou art ignorant of be­side, yea, and Des-Cartes his Philosophy to boot. I say it is worth all that a thousand times told over. Des-Cartes Philosophy is indeed a fine neat subtill thing, but for the true ornament of the mind bears no greater proportion to that Principle I told you of, then the dry bones of a snake made up ele­gantly into a hatband, to the royall clothing of Solomon. But other naturall Philosophies in respect of Des-Cartes his, are even lesse then a few chips of wood to a well erected [Page 43] Fabrick. But I say that a free divine univer­salized spirit is worth all. How lovely, how magnificent a state is the soul of man in, when the life of God inactuating her, shoots her along with himself through Heaven and Earth, makes her unite with, and after a sort feel herself animate the whole world, as if she had become God and all things: This is the precious clothing and rich ornament of the mind, farre above reason or any other experiment. And in this attire thou canst not but dance to that Musick of the Sibylle.

I am Jehovah, (well my words perpend)
Clad with the frory sea, all mantled over
With the blue Heavens, shod with the Earth I wend,
The stars about me dance, th' Air doth me co­ver.

This is to become Deiform, to be thus sus­pended (not by imagination, but by union of life, [...], joyning centers with God) and by a sensible touch to be held [Page 44] up from the clotty dark Personality of this compacted body. Here is love, here is free­dome, here is justice and equity in the super­essentiall causes of them. He that is here, looks upon all things as one, and on himself, if he can then mind himself, as a part of the whole. And so hath no self­interest, no unjust malicious plot, no more then the hand hath against the foot, or the ear against the eye. This is to be godded with God, and Christed with Christ, if you be in love with such affected language. But you, O ye cages of unclean birds, that have so begodded your selves, that you are grown foul and black like brutes or devils, what will become of you? O you sinks of sinne! You that have heretofore followed religion to ex­cuse you from reall righteousnesse and holi­nesse, and now have found a trick to be abo­minably wicked without any remorse of con­science. You are Gods and Goddesses every bit of you, and all actions in you divine. He leads you up into the bed of a whore, and un­cases you both for the unclean Act. And when you tell obscene stories in a rapture, [Page 45] you are caught up into God. O you foul mouthes! You blebs of venery, you bags of filth! You dishonour of Christendome and reproach of men! Is not all this righteously come upon you, because you never sought after Religion, as a thing within you, holy, and divine; but as an excuse to save you from wrath, and yet to remain in your sinnes? But that cannot be: You are in the fewell of wrath while you are in your sinnes, and that fewell will be set on fire some time or other. But that you may be secure of wrath you say there is no sinne, but that it is onely a conceit and a name. Is it not a sinne to be lesse hap­py ten thousand times then God would have you? Doth not both sense and reason disco­ver to you, (I am sure it doth to others) that you walk in the wayes of Hell and death? But you are still secure, you your selves are as much God as any thing else is, and so you may make your Hell as favourable to your selves as you please. But O you fools and blind! I see you cannot, but you are entan­gled with the cords and snares that the divine Nemesis hath laid for the wicked in all the [Page 46] parts of the world. But you are not yet any thing moved, O ye dead in trespasses and sinnes! For there is no God, say you, more then a dog or a horse is God. Behold, O ye forlorn wretches and miserably mistaken! Behold, He is come down to you: nay, He is ever with you and you see him not. Ask of him, and He shall answer you. Demand of him, and He shall declare unto you, not in obscure words or dark sayings, not in aenig­maticall speeches or parables; but He will speak unto your own reason and faculties which he hath given you: propound therefore unto him why you think the soul of man is mortall, and why you deny an omnipotent and omniscient God distinct from Nature & particular Beings: propound unto Him, and He will plainly answer you. But alas! alas! you are neither fit to hear nor able to pro­pound, for you have destroyed those faculties that he hath given you by sinning against the light of them, and now you have drunk out your eyes, you swear there is no Sun in the Firmament: and now you have whored away your brains, you are confident there is [Page 47] no God. O sunk and helplesse generation! how have you sop'd and soaked, overflown and drown'd the highest seat and Acropolis of your soul, that through your sensuality it is grown as rotten and corrupt as a dunghill? You have made your selves as fit to judge of reason as if your heads were stuffed with wet straw. These things hath the divine Indigna­tion uttered against you, but more for reproof then reproach. But your sinne hath made you sottish, and your sottishnesse confident and secure. But his anger burns against you; O you false Religionists! and the wrath of God will overtake you when you are not aware: and your shame shall ascend up like the smoke of the bottomlesse pit, and your stink shall be as the filthinesse in the valley of the children of Hinnom. This will be the portion of all those that barter away sound reason and the sober faculties of the soul for boisterous words of vanity, and unsetled conceits of Enthusiasts, that having neither reason nor scripture nor conspicuous miracle, row down with the stream of mens corru­ptions and ripen and hasten the unclean part [Page 48] in man, to a more full and speedy birth of sinne and ungodlinesse. But what's all this to me? saith Philalethes. I tell thee, Phil. I nei­ther wrote before nor do I now write onely for thy sake, but for as many as my writings may reach for their good. Nor am I out of my wits as some may fondly interpret me in this divine freedome. But the love of God compelled me. Nor am I at all, Philalethes, Enthusiasticall. For God doth not ride me as a horse, and guide me I know not whither my self; but converses with me as a friend, and speaks to me in such a Dialect as I un­derstand fully, and can make others under­stand, that have not made shipwrack of the faculties that God hath given them, by su­perstition or sensuality: for with such I can not converse, because they do not converse with God; but onely pity them, or am angry with them, as I am merry and pleasant with thee. For God hath permitted to me all these things, and I have it under the broad seal of Heaven. Who dare charge me? God doth acquit me. For he hath made me full Lord of the foure elements, and hath consti­tuted [Page 49] me Emperour of the world. I am in the fire of choler and am not burned: In the wa­ter of phlegme and am not drowned: In the aiery sanguine and yet not blown away with every vain blast of transient pleasure, or false doctrines of men: I descend also into the sad earthy Melancholy, and yet am not buryed from the sight of my God. I am, Philalethes, (though I dare say thou takest me for no bird of Paradise) Incola coeli in terrâ, an inhabi­tant of Paradise, and Heaven upon Earth: and the white stone is mine, however thou scramblest for the Philosophers stone. (I wish thou hadst them both, that is all the harm I wish thee.) I still the raging of the sea, I clear up the lowring Heavens, and with my breath blow away the clouds. I sport with the beasts of the Earth, the Lion licks my hand like a Spaniell, and the Serpent sleeps upon my lap and stings me not. I play with the fowls of Heaven, and the birds of the Air sit singing on my fist. All the Crea­tion is before me, and I call every one of them by their proper names. This is the true Adam, O Philalethes: This is Paradise, Hea­ven, [Page 50] and Christ. All these things are true in a sober sense. And the Dispensation I live in, is more happinesse above all measure, then if thou couldst call down the Moon so near thee by thy Magick charms that thou might­est kisse her, as she is said to have kissed En­dymion, or couldest stop the course of the Sunne, or which is all one, with one stamp of thy foot, stay the motion of the Earth. All this externall power in Nature were but as a shop of trinkets and toyes, in comparison of what I have declared unto you. And an adul­terous generation onely seeks after a signe, or idiots, such as love to stare on a dexterous jugler when he playes his tricks. And there­fore they being of so little consideration in themselves; I see and am satisfied why mira­cles are no more frequent in the world. God intends an higher dispensation, and greater happinesse for these later times, wherein Di­vine Love and Reason, and for their sakes Liberty will lay claim to the stage. For He will as I told you draw us with the cords of a man, not ride us as with a bridle like a horse, or tug us along like a mad stear in a [Page 51] band. He will sanctifie our inward faculties, and so take possession of the Earth. But that a man may not deplore what is lamentable, or be angry at what is injurious to God or Goodnesse, or laugh at what is ridiculous, this is not any part of that Law that is made manifest in the Heavenly life, but the arbitra­rious precepts of supercilious Stoicks, or sur­ly Superstitionists. For God hath sanctified and will sanctifie all these things. Nor am I at all mad or fanatick in all this, O you un­experienced and unwise! For as our Saviour said of his body, touch me and handle me: so say I of my soul: feel and try all the fa­culties of it if you can find any crack or flaw in them. Where is my Reason inconsequent, or inconsistent with the Attributes of God, the common Notions of men, the Phaenone­ma of Nature, or with it self? Where is my Phansie distorted, unproportionate, unpro­per? But for the bottome of all these, that, I confesse, you can not reach to nor judge of, that is divine sense, the white stone, in which there is a name written that none can read but he that hath it. But for the guidance of [Page 52] my reason and imagination, they have so safe a Stearsman, viz. that Divine touch of my soul with God, and the impregnation of my Understanding from the most High, that judgement and caution have so warily built the outward fabrick of words and phansie, that I challenge any man to discover any in­eptitude in them, or incoherencie.

And now verily the serious consideration of these weighty matters have so composed my mind, that I find it some difficultie to dis­compose it into a temper childish enough to converse with my young Eugenius. But as high as I have taken my station, I will de­scend, and go lesse my self, to bring him to what is greater. Behold, I leap down as from the top of some white rocky cloud, upon the grassie spot where my Philalethes stands, and I shall now begin the game of my personated Enmitie, or sportfull Colluctati­on with him.

Page 7. lin. 5.

Be sure in your next to give me an account of this disease in what books or persons, &c. Mous­catcher, take away thy Trap, and take off the [Page 53] tosted cheese from off the wire, and with thy fore-finger and thy thumb put it into thine own wide mouth, O thou Tom Vaughan of Wales.

Lin. 14. I have found them in your Ballade. Ballade is a good old English word, from which I abhorre no more then Spencer, or Lu­cretius from old Latine, who yet was some­thing younger then Tully. Is not the song of Solomon called the Ballade of Ballades, in some Church-bibles? Thou art so angry that thou art not able to rail with judgement. But what high swoln words of vanitie are there in that Ballade of mine? Thou art so igno­rant that terms of Art seem Heathen Greek to thee. But for those words that I interpre­ted for the ignorants sake (you see what a care I have of you, O unthankfull Eugenius!) there is an Apologie prefixt that will satisfie the ingenuous, and for others it matters not.

Pag. 9.

Lin. 15. With a Bull rampant. You bestow upon me many Bulls, Eugenius: But when you are so kind as to give me them for no­thing, you may well expect that I will be so [Page 54] thankfull, as to return you a Calf for eve­ry Bull I have gratis. Let us begin, &c. And you indeed have done your part already. The sense is, But you indeed have done your part already: What is this but an [...]? But you have I see as little skill in Rhetorick as Civilitie. The Calf take thee, Phil. or take thou the Calf. There is one to begin thy herd.

Page 10.

Lin. 1. What, both tell-Troths? Before thou wast no Rhetorician, now thou art no Logician nor Philosopher, that canst not di­stinguish betwixt Veritie and Veracitie. Ve­racitie is enough to make a Tom Tell-troth, though his Narration be false. Hence it is demonstrable that two men may be both Tel-troths, though their stories be point-blank contrary to one another. The sense of my words is this; You have told what you thought Aristotle was blameable in: I will now tell what I think you are blameable in. You may be against Aristotle, and I for him, and both with veracitie, though not with veritie.

Page 11.

Lin. 21. Found out some new truths. Yes, I say there are passages in your book, that im­ply so much at least. We shall see when we come at them: and I shall shew that you found them before they were lost.

Page 12.

Lin. 17. The third project is the same with the first. Why, is to be skilful in Art magick, and to find out new truths all one? It seems then you suppose there are no new Truths to be found out but Magicall ones. Blessed age that we live in! All other arts are brought to their Non plus ultrá. Physicians, Geometri­cians, Astronomians, Astrologians, Musici­ans, put up your pipes. Claudite jam rivos pueri. There is nothing remains to be done by you. All is perfected. But let me ask you one sober question, Phil. Have you gone through all these Arts and throughly under­stand them, that you do so boldly pronounce them compleat and perfect? I know Phila­lethes is not so immodest as to say so; I am sure the world is not so foolishly credulous as to beleeve so. So that I must conclude, Eu­genius, [Page 56] that thou art so outragiously distem­pered in thy mind, that thou art a weaker A­rithmetician then the rude Thracians. They told to foure, Thou art out at three, and must begin again.

Page 13.

Lin. 11. How many more syllables in An­throposophia, then in Antipsychopannychia? Not so many. So that if I had affected to be so Magical as your learned self, the same conceit would have fitted my Title-page. But I begin now to suspect, you are so nimble at comparing, that your Title-page was a kind of Apish Imitation of mine in the first Edition of my Song of the Soul. But wast thou so simple as to think that any bodie thought better of my book for those hard words in the Frontispiece of it? I onely set them there as a wind-mill on a stack of corn, by the clack of it to scare away sparrows and crows, that it might be reserved entire for men. But I perceive for all that, that thy Rooks bill has been pecking there. But much good may it do thee, Phil. I envie it thee not.

Page 15.

Lin. 20. Vim scrmonis esse in verbis, &c. I say, the force and warrant both of Nouns and Verbs is from their use,

Quem penes arbitrium est, & jus, & norma loquendi.

But if you will have, Oratour to be good and proper: this Epistle of yours must then be no Epistle, though you call it so, but an Oration to the Fratres R. C. which you spoke to them when they were God knows where, and they will answer you God knows when. Verily, Philalethes, thou art a fine fellow to have made an Oratour of in King Midas his time. For he had, they say, very long eares: And so mightest Thou have made an Oration be­fore the King in his absence.

Page 17.

Line 21. A twofold Definition, Accidentall and Essentiall. That's true, Phil. what Fresh­man but knows that? But how it is to be un­derstood, I perceive thou dost not know. I am ashamed that I must be fain to rub up in thee the very first rudiments of Logick, or rather teach thee them. For couldst thou [Page 58] ever forget what is meant by Accidentall, what by Essentiall? Accidentall is that which may be or not be in a thing, and yet the thing be: As a horse may be a horse, be it black or white. Essentiall is that which so belongs to the thing to which it is said to be Essentiall, that the thing cannot be conceiv'd to exist without it. Now, say I, these faculties of Understanding, Reason, and Sense are essen­tiall to the soul of man, because we cannot conceive a soul without a power or facultie of understanding, reasoning, &c. And Ari­stotle has defined a soul from these. There­fore would a Peripatetick say, with an Essenti­all Definition. But Eugenius, No: This is but circumstantiall, sayes he. Therefore I do in­ferre, Eugenius, that thou dost dream of knowing the very naked substance of the soul; which thou wilt as soon know, as see the wind. And thus I spoke to that that thou must needs mean, if thou meanest any thing: but it is a plain case, thou dost not know thy own meaning. But Aristotle doth sufficient­ly countenance mine, with what he has verie luckily let fall some where in his Analyticks; [Page 59] And thus is it manifestly true in that sense that you your self meant; That the very es­sence of any substance is not to be known, nor is there any such Essentiall Definition. This is as true, Tom. Vaughan, as two and two are foure, though I do not call you Owl for your ignorance, as you do me for my know­ledge. But we shall have another bout again with this, in your Anima Magica abscondita.

Page 19. to the 24.

To have made the world as a Carpenter, of stone and timber. Thou hast misplaced a comma in the sentence to make a Cavil. Put on thy spectacles, and see if there be any comma before of in my Book. If you un­derstood common sense you could not but understand, that my meaning is this; That you tax the Peripateticks for phansying God to have made the world as a Carpenter makes houses of stone and timber. Now pitifull Caviller! But to the point. I say this is a false taxation, Eugenius: For the parts of the world, according to the Peripateticks own doctrine, are set in this order they are from [Page 60] an inward principle of motion, and their own proper qualities: so that they do as the stones and trees are said to have done at the musick of Orphevs and Amphion, move of themselves. But the stone and timber in the work of a Carpenter, do not move themselves into their places they ought to be, for the building up of an house. But you answer two things to this: First, that the parts of the world do not move themselves: Secondly, that if they do, then they have infusion of life. To the first: Why, dos not any part of the earth move it self downward, if it be in an higher place then is naturall to it, and the aire and fire upward, &c. and this from an inward principle of motion? Nay, is not the very definition of Nature, Principium motûs & quietis, &c. wherefore we see plainly, that ac­cording to the Aristoteleans, all to the very concave of the Moon have an inward princi­ple of motion. And for the Heavens them­selves, the most sober and cautious of the Pe­ripateticks hold them to be moved from an inward Principle, their Forma informans, as they call it. So that though they do not al­low [Page 61] life infused into the world, yet they al­low an inward principle of motion in natural bodies, which is their Substantiall Forms, by vertue whereof they are ranged in this order as we see; or at least according to which they are thus ranged and ordered. And this is not so dead a businesse as the Carpenters building with stone and timber. But in the second place, you say, That if they have this motion from an inward principle, then they have also infusion of life. But do not you see plainly, that (according to the mind of the more sober Peripateticks) they have motion from an inward principle? Therefore you should have been so far from taxing them to look upon God as a Carpenter, that you should have concluded rather that they held infusion of life.

Page 24.

Lin. I. Thou hast abused me basely. Veri­ly, if that were true I shonld be very sorrie for it: For I would not willingly abuse any man living, of what condition soever. But the thing has happened unluckily. I read thy Book, I knew not thy person, nor thy name, [Page 62] nor thy nature, further then it was exprest in thy Book, which did not represent it so ill as now I find it. If I had thought my Galenical purge had met with such a constitution, I should have tempered it more carefully: For I delight not in the vexation of any man. The truth is, my scope in writing that Book was laudable and honest, and such as might become a very good Christian, and my mirth and pleasantnesse of mind much and reall; but the sharpnesse of my style personated, and Aristotelicall; and therefore being but affect­ed and fictitious, I felt it not, there was no corrosion at all; but all that was unkind in it, (if you will call that passion unkindnesse) was a certain light indignation that I bore, and ever do bear against magnificent folly. And there being no name to your Book, I thought I had the opportunity of doing it with the least offence, as meeting with the thing dis­joyned and singled from the person. But I verily think I should not have medled at all, if you had spared your incivilities to Des­Chartes, whose worth and skill in naturall Philosophy (be it fate or judgement that [Page 63] constrains me to it let the world judge) I can not but honour and admire. He is rayled at but not confuted by any that I see, in his naturall Philosophy, and that's the thing I magnifie him for. Though his Metaphysicks have wit and strength enough too, and he hath made them good against his opposers.

Line 21. And assure thy self I will persecute thee, so long as there is ink or paper in England. Assuredly thou wilt not, Philalethes: For why, I am dead already, taken in thy trap and tortured to death: will not this suffice thee? I am dead, and thou thy self but mor­tall, wilt thou entertain immortall enmity against me? But how canst thou persecute me being dead? Wilt thou raise my soul up, O Magicus, by thy Necromancy? and then combate with me over my grave? I hope thou art but in jest, Eugenius: If thou beest not, I must tell thee in good earnest, thy pre­sent bitternesse will make thee Simon Magus like, as well as thy former boasting. O thou confounded and undone thing! how hast thou shamed thy self! Thy vizard is fallen off, and thy sanctimonious clothing torn from [Page 64] about thee, even as it was with the Apes and Monkies, that being attired like men and wearing vizards over their faces did daunce, and cringe, and kisse, and do all the gestures of men so artificially and becomingly, that the Countrey people took them to be a lesser size of humane race, till a waggish fellow that had more with then the rest, dropt a few nuts amongst them, for which they fell a scrambling so earnestly, that they tore off their vizards, and to the great laughter of the spectatours, show'd what manner of crea­tures they were. O Magicus! do not dissem­ble before me: For thou dost not know with what eyes I behold thee. Were it not better for thee and all the world beside, to make it their businesse to be really and fully possest of those things that are undoubtedly good and Christian, nay, indeed if they be had in the right Principle, are the very buds and branches of the tree of Paradise, the limbs and members of the Divine nature, such as are meeknesse, patience, and humility, dis­cretion, freedome from self-interest, cha­stity, temperance, equity, and the like: is it [Page 65] not better to seek after these things, then to strain at high words and uncertain flatuous notions that do but puff up the mind and make it seem full to it self, when it is distend­ed with nothing but unwholsome wind. Is not this very true, my dear Philatethes?

Line II. Upon certain similitudes and ana­logies of mine. Now we are come to that rare piece of Zoography of thine, the world drawn out in the shape of an Animal. But let's view the whole draught as it lies in your book, because you make such a foul noise about it in your answer. Your words are these. Besides the texture of the Universe clear­ly discovers its Animation. The Earth which is the visible naturall Basis of it, represents the grosse carnall parts. The element of the water answers to the bloud, for in it the pulse of the great world beats; this most men call the flux and reflux, but they know not the true cause of it. The air is the outward refreshing spirit, where this vast creature breathes though invi­sibly yet not insensibly: The interstellar skies are his vitall ethereall waters, and the starres his animall sensuall fire. Now to passe my cen­sure [Page 66] on this rare Zoographicall peice. I tell thee if thy brains were so confusedly scat­tered as thy phansie is here, thou wert a dead man Philalethes: all the Chymistry in the world could not recover thee. Thou art so u­nitive a soul, Phil. and such a clicker at the slightest shadows of similitude, that thou wouldst not stick to match chalk and cheese together I perceive, and mussitate a marriage betwixt an Apple and an Oyster. Even those proverbiall dissimilitudes have something of similitude in them, will you then take them for similes that have so monstrous a dispro­portion and dissimilitude? But you are such a Sophister that you can make any thing good. Let's try. The Earth must represent the flesh because they both be grosse: so is chalk and cheese, or an Apple and an Oy­ster. But what think you of the Moon? is not that as much green cheese as the Earth is flesh? what think you of Venus, of Mer­cury, and the rest of the Planets? which they that know any thing in Nature, know to be as much flesh as the Earth is, that is to be dark & opake as well as shee. What! is this flesh of [Page 67] the world then torn apeices and thrown a­bout, scattered here and there like the dis­joynted limbs of dragg'd Hippolytus? Go to Phil: where are you now with your fine knacks and similitudes? But to the next A­nalogie. The element of water answers to the bloud. Why? For in it is the pulse of the great world. But didst thou ever feel the pulse of the Moon? And yet is not there water too? thou little, sleepy heedlesse Endymion: The bloud is restagnant there, I warrant you, and hath no pulse. So that the man with the thorns on his back lives in a very unwholesome region. But to keep to our own station here upon Earth. Dost thou know what thou sayest when thou venturest to name that monosyl­lable, Pulse, dost thou know the causes and the laws of it? Tell me, my little Philoso­phaster; where is there in the earth or out of the earth in this World-Animal of thine, that which will answer to the heart, and the sy­stole and diastole thereof to make this pulse? And beside this, There is wanting rarefacti­on and universall diffusion of the stroke at once. These are in the pulse of a true Ani­mal, [Page 68] but are not to be found in the Flux of the sea; For it is not in all places at once, nor is the water rarefied where it is. Now my pretty Parabolist, what is there left to make your similitude good for a pulse in your great Animal more then when you spill your pot­tage, or shog a milk-bowl? But believe it Eugenius, thou wilt never make sense of this Flux and Reflux, till thou calm thy phansie so much as to be able to read Des-Cartes. But to tell us it is thus from an inward form, mo­re Aristotelico, is to tell us no more, then that it is the nature of the Beast, or to make La­tine words by adding onely the termination bus, as hosibus and shoosibus, as Sir Kenhelm Digby hath with wit and judgement applied the compárison in like case. But now to put the bloud, flesh and bones together, of your World-Animal: I say they bear not so great a proportion to the more fluid parts, viz. the vitall and animal spirits thereof, as a mite in a cheese to the whole globe of the Earth. So that if thou hadst any phansie or judgement in thee, thy similitude would appear to thine own self outragiously ugly and dispropor­tionable, [Page 69] and above all measure ridiculous: Nor do not think to shuffle it off, by demand­ing, If there be so little earth, to tell thee where it is wanting. For I onely say, that if the world be an Animal, there will be much bloud and flesh wanting, Philalethes, for so great a Beast. Nor do not you think to blind my eyes with your own Tobacco smoke, (I take none my self, Eugenius,) For to that over ordinary experiment, I answer two things. First, that as you look upon the parts of the body of a true Animal, in the same extension that they now actually are, not how they may be altered by rarefaction; so you are also to look upon the parts of your World­Animal, as they are de facto extended, not how they may be by rarefaction. And thus your Argument from Tobacco, will vanish into smoke. But if you will change the pre­sent condition, of any lesser Animal by burn­ing it, and turning many of the grosse parts into more thinne and fluid, you destroy the ground of your comparison, betwixt the World-Animal and it; for you take away the flesh of your lesser Animal thus burnt. And [Page 70] besides, the proportion betwixt the vapour or thinner parts extension to the remaining ashes, is not yet so big, as of the thin parts of the World-Animal in respect of its solid parts, by many thousand and thousand millions. Nay, I shall speak within compasse, if I say (as I said before) that there is a greater dis­proportion then betwixt the globe of the Earth and a mite in a cheese. This is plainly true to any that understands common sense. For the Earth in respect of the World is but as an indivisible point. Adde to all this, that if you will rarefie the Tobacco or Hercules body by fire, I will take the same advantage, and say that the water and many parts of the earth may be also rarefied by fire, and then reckon onely upon the remaining ashes of this globe, and what is turned into vapour must be added to the more fluid parts of the World-Animal, to increase that over-propor­tion. So that thou hast answered most wretch­edly and pitifully every way, poor Anthro­posophus! But besides, In the second place: When any thing is burnt, as for example, your Tobacco. I say it takes up then no more [Page 71] room then it did before: Because Rarefa­ction and Condensation is made, per modum spongiae, as a sponge is distended by the co­ming in, and contracted again by the going out of the water it had imbib'd. But the Aristotelicall way, which is yours, (O pro­found Magicus! that hast the luck to pick out the best of that Philosophy) implies, I say, grosse contradictions, which thou canst not but understand, if thou canst distinguish cor­poreall from incorporeall Beings. Thy way of Rarefaction and Condensation, O Eugeni­us, must needs imply penetration of dimen­sions, or something as incongruous, as every lad in our Universities, at a year or two standing at least, is able to demonstrate to thee. But if thou thinkest it hard, that so little a body as a pipe of Tobacco, should be multiplied into so very much superficies above what it had before, go to those that beat out leaf gold, and understand there how the superficies of the same body may be, to wonder, increased. And beside, I could de­monstrate to thee, that a body whose basis thou shouldst imagine at the center of the [Page 72] Earth, & top as far above the starry Heaven, as it is from thence to the Earth, without any condensation used thereunto, is but equall to a body that will lie within the boll of a To­bacco pipe. Where art thou now, thou mi­serable Philosophaster? But to the next A­nalogie.

The aire is the outward refreshing spirit, where this vast Creature breaths. Two things I here object, to shew the ineptnesse and inconguity of this comparison. The one is taken from the office of respiration, which is to refresh by way of refrigerating or cooling. Is not the main end of the lungs to cool the bloud, before it enter into the left ventricle of the heart? But thou art so Magical, thou knowst none of these sober and usefull mysteries of Nature. All that thou answerest to this is, That we are refresh'd by heat as well as by coolnesse. Why then, Is that generall suf­ficient to make up your analogie or simili­tude? This is as well phansied as it is reason­ed, when men conclude affirmatively in the second figure. There are laws in Phansie too, Philalethes: and I shall shew thee anon, how [Page 73] ridiculous thou hast made thy self by trans­gressing them. If thou meanest by refresh'd, to be cheared or restored onely, and what ever do's this must be ground enough to phansie a respiration; then thou breathest in thy cawdle, when thou eatest it, and hast spoyled that conceit of his, that said he never would drink sack whilst he breathed; for if sack do in any sense refresh and comfort a man, it seems he breaths while he drinks. I tell thee in the Homologi termini of simili­tudes, there ought to be something in some sort peculiar and restrained, or else it is flat, ridiculous, and non-sense. The other obje­ction was taken from the situation of this aire that is to be the matter of Respiration in this great Animal. What a wild difference is there in this? The aire that an ordinary A­nimal breaths in, is externall, the aire of this world-Animal, internall; so that it is rather wind in the guts, then aire for the lungs; and therefore we may well adde the Cholick to the Anasarca. Is the wind-Cholick an outward refreshing spirit, or an inward griping pain? Being thou hast no guts in thy brains, I su­spect [Page 74] thy brains have slipt down into thy guts, whither thy tongue should follow to be able to speak sense. Answer now like an [...], O thon man of Magick! He answers, and the point and sting of all the sense of his answer is in the tail of it: pag. 29. lin. 11. and it is their outward refreshing spirit. He means the Earths and the Waters. O feeble sting! O foolish answer! This onely reaches so far as to save the Earth alive from my jugulating objection. The globe of Earth and Water indeed may be still an Animal for all that objection. But thou saidst the whole world was an Animal. What, is the whole world an Animal because the Earth is one? O bundle of simples! (to return thee thine own parcell of ware again, for it belongs not to me) this is as well argued as if thou should­est say, That a cheese is an Animal, because there is one living mite in it. But that this Earth neither is a breathing Animal, is plain enough: For what respiration, what attra­ction and reddition of aire is there in it? There may be indeed something answering to sweating and perspiration, nothing to re­spiration, [Page 75] my good Philalethes. But to shew thee thy folly, I will follow thy liberty, and impudently pronounce that a pair of bellows is an Animal. Why, is it not? It has a nose to breathe through, that's plain, the two han­dles are the two eares, the leather the lungs, and that which is the most seemly analogie of all, the two holes in the back-side are the two eyes; as like the eyes in the fore-side of a Crab as ever thou seest any thing in thy life: Look thee, Phil. are they not? You 'll say, The analogie of the nose is indeed as plain as the nose on a mans face: But how can the handles be eares, when they stand one behind another? whereas the eares of Animals stand one on one side, and the other on the other side of the head. And then, how can the leather be lungs, they being the very out-side of its body? Or those two holes eyes? They have neither the situation, as being placed behind, nor office of eyes. Answer me all these objections, O Mastix! I can fully answer them, O Magicus! This is an Animal drawn out according to thine own skill and principles. The leather sayst [Page 76] thou must be no lungs, because it is without. Why then the aire must be no aire for thy World-Animal to breath, because it is within: And if thou canst dispence with within and without, much more mayst thou with before and behind, or behind and on the sides. So the eares and lungs of this Animal hold good a­gainst thee still. Now to preserve my mon­sters eyes against this Harpy that would scratch them out. They are no eyes say you, because they have not the situation of eyes. But I told thee before, thou makest nothing of situation. But they have not the office of eyes. Why? They can see as much as the eyes of thy World-Animal, for ought thou knowest. I but this Bellows-Animal breaths at these eyes: And have not I shewed thee that thy World-Animal breaths in his guts? But I will make it plain to thee that those two holes are eyes: For they are two, as the two eyes are; and transmit the thin aire through them, as the eyes do the pure light. So that they agree gainly well in the generall: As your Respiration in the World-Animal, in re­freshing, though by heat, when in others it is [Page 77] by cold. Fie on thee, for a Zoographicall Bungler. These Bellows thou seest is not my Animal but thine, and the learned shall no longer call that instrument by that vulgar name of a pair of Bellows, but Tom Vaughans Animal. So famous shalt thou grow for thy conceited foolerie.

The interstellar skies are his vitall ethereall waters. Here I object, O Eugenius! that there is an over-proportionated plenty of those waters in thy World-Animal, and that thus thou hast distended the skin of thy Animal, God knows how many millions of miles off from the flesh. O prodigi­ous Anasarca! But what dost thou answer here? viz. That I say, that the body which we see betwixt the starres, namely, the interstellar waters, is excessive in pro­portion. No, I do not say so: but that they are two excessive in proportion to be the fluid parts of a World-Animal. But how ever, as if I had said so, he goes about to prove, that there is no excesse of proportion in them. Dost thou hear, Mastix? sayes he, Look up and see. Well, I hear, Phil. I look up. But do [Page 78] not chock me under the chin, thou wag, when I look up. Now, what must I see? What a number of bonefires, lamps, and torches are kind­led in that miraculous celestiall water. Yes, I see them all. I suppose they burn so clear for joy and triumph, that my Reason and Sense have so victoriously overthrown thy Phan­tastry and Non-sense. But why miraculous waters, Phil? I see the cause: Bonefires and torches burn in the waters. That were a mi­racle indeed, Eugenius; but that it is a falsity. Thou givest things false names, and then wouldst amaze us with verbal miracles.

And the starres his animal sensuall fire. What is thy meaning here, little Phil. (For I never called thee to account for this yet) That this World-Animal has sense onely in the starres? To call them the eyes of the world is indeed pretty and Poeticall. And Plato's delicious spirit may seem to countenance the conceit in that elegant Distich upon his young friend Aster, (which in plain English is Starre) whom he instructed in the Art of Astronomie:

Thou viewest the starres, my Star, were I the skyes!
That I might fix on thee so many eyes.

But what, Eugenius, wilt thou venture in Philosophick coolnesse, to say the sense of thy World-Animal lies in the starres? I pre­thee, what can those starry eyes spy out of the world? They are very quick-sighted, if they can see there, where there is nothing to be seen. But it may be, this Animal turns its eyes inward and views it self. I would Phila­lethes were such an Animal too; He would then find so much amisse within, that he would forbear hereafter to be so censorious without. But what? is there sense then one­ly in the starres? For sense can be no where but where there is accesse for the Animal spi­rits. So it seems, the starres must hear as well as see, nay, feel and tast; as they do questi­onlesse, as often as they lick in, and eat up that starre-fodder, the vapours, wherewith in Seneca, they are phantastically said to be nourished. And thus you see, that Tom Vau­ghans Animal, I mean the bellows now, may see at the very same two holes that it breathes [Page 80] at, for he confounds all by his indiscreet phansie. How art thou blown about like a feather in the air, O thou light-minded Eu­genius! How vain and irrationall art thou in every thing! Art thou the Queen of Sheba, as thy Sanguin a little overflowing thy Cho­ler would dresse up thy self to thy soft ima­gination, and make thee look smugg in thy own eyes? Had that Queen so little manners, in her addresses to so great a Philosopher? No, thy language in all thy book, is the lan­guage of a scold and of a slut. And for thy wit, if thou wilt forgo thy right to the ladle and bells, thy feminine brains as thou callest them, may lay claim to the maid-marians place in the Morris-dance: while my strong cruds, (as thou tearmest my masculine un­derstanding) which are as sweet as strong, not tainted with the fumes of either revenge or Venery, shall improve their utmost strength, for the interest of Truth and Vir­tue.

And thus have I taken all thy Outworks, Eugenius, yea and quite demolished them. Yet now I look better about me, there is I [Page 81] perceive one Half-moon standing still. Wherefore have at thy Lunatick answer to that which thou callest my Lunatick argu­ment, which thou propoundest thus; That the Flux and Reflux cannot be the pulse of the great World, because it proceeds from the Moon, not from the Sunne. I say, Philalethes, The Sunne being the heart of the world, accord­ing to those that be more discreetly phanta­sticall (consult Dr. Fludd, thou art but a bad chip of that block) it was to be expected, if thou wouldst have the Flux and Reflux to be the Pulse, that it should come from the Sun, that is reputed the heart of the world, but it comes from the Moon. To this you answer; That it comes no more from the Moon, then from that fictitious Anti-selene or Anti-moon, as you venture to call it. You say thus, but prove nothing. But there is such an apparent connexion betwixt this Phaenomenon of the Flux and Reflux, and so constant with the course of the Moon, that it is even unimagi­nable but that there should be the relation of cause and effect betwixt them. But I think you will not say, That the motion of the Sea [Page 82] has any power or effect upon the course of the Moon; wherefore it must be granted, than the course of the Moon has an effectuall in­fluence upon the Flux of the Sea. And therefore Fromondus speaks very expressely concerning this matter, and very perempto­rily in these words: Si ex effect is de causa con­jectatio valere potest, tam compertum videtur aestus effici & gubernari à Lunari sydere, quàm calorem ab ignibus effundi, aut lumen à Sole: to this sense; If we can gather any thing from effects concerning the cause, it seems to be as ex­perimentally sure, that the Ebbing and Flowing of the Sea is made and governed by the Moon, as that heat flows from the fire, or light from the Sunne. For indeed how could there be kept such inviolable laws, as that the Ocean should alwayes swel at the Moons ascending; and not onely so, but attemperately and pro­portionably to her motion, (for she coming every day later and later above the Horizon, the Flux of the Sea is later and later everie time, according to her recession toward the East in her monethly course) I say, How could these laws be so accurately observed, [Page 83] Mr. Eugenius, if the Moon were not accesso­ry to, nay, the principall causer of this Flux and Reflux of the Sea? And if thou beest not wilfully blind, this is enough to convince thee, that that which thou callest the Pulse of thy World-Animal, is from the Moon not from the Sunne, nor from its own inward form. For thou seest it is caused and regula­ted by an externall Agent. But for a more full discoverie of this mysterie, I send thee to Des-Cartes in the fourth part of his Prin­cipia Philosophiae, or to what I have taken from thence and made use of in the Notes upon my Philosophicall Poems. In which Po­ems the intelligent Reader may understand, how far, and in what sense, any sober Platonist will allow the world to be an Animal. Nor do's one part of it acting upon another, as the Moon upon the Sea, hinder its Animation. For in men and beasts, one part of the bodie do's plainly act upon another, though all be actuated by the soul.

And now, Philalethcs, I have taken all thy Out-works, none excepted; out of which thou hast shot many a slovingly shot against [Page 84] me. But thy foul piece has recoyled against thy self, in all sober mens opinions, and has beat thee backward into the dirt. And truly, I know not whether I should pity thee, or laugh at thy childish Arsbut thou hast given thy self. For thou railest at me now thou art down, and threatnest him that is ready to set thee up upon thy feet, provided thou wilt not prick up thy eares too, and look too spruntly upon the businesse. But thou want­est no help, thou art a Giant, an invincible man of warre, great Goliah of Gath. I a mere Punie, as thou callest me; nay, a Mun­key, a Mouse. What, dost thou bid defiance to three at once, Philalethes? I tell thee, any one of these three would be hard enough for thee. But what wilt thou do, now thou art to deal with a man? For I shall fight with thee, onely with a mans weapon, Reason. As for thy raylings and quibblings, I shall not take notice of them; so that the battel is like­ly to be the sharper and shorter for it. Onely let's be a little merry at the beginning, it will be like shaking of hands at the taking up of the cudgells.


Art thou the hobling Poet who sometime — Prays'd with his quill Plato's Philosophie?

I am the Poet that did, and do with my pen, my mouth, and from my heart praise that excellent Philosophy of Plato, as the most consistent and coherent Metaphysicall Hypothesis, that has yet been found out by the wit of man. But why hobling Poet? thou hobling Asse or Hobby-horse, choose thee whether. Thou hast so diseased and crazie a brain, that it cannot endure it seems the least jotting, and so thou hadst rather be carried in a Sedan, as those that are rotten with the Neopolitan disease, or else going the way to it; then be bravely hurryed in my open ma­gnificent chariot, whose tempestuous wheels dance and leap while they are wearing down the cragginesse and asperity of Philosophick difficulties into plainnesse and easinesse. But I know the vulgar, those poore Merchants of eel-skins, that deal with nothing but the Ex­uviae of things, words and phrases, are more [Page 86] taken with smooth Non-sense, or superficiall flourishes, then with the deepest knowledge in a carelesse dresse. Dost thou not know that those men, that make it their businesse to be compt and elegant in their clothes and carriages, commonly have little else but this in them? And so it is too often with Poems and other writings. But how I slight your simple censures, O ye skin-sucking flies! ye wasps with rush-stings in your tayls! yee winged inhabitants of Crowland! I will shew you now, not in the prose of More, but in the very Trot and Loll of Spencer, as this Natu­rall with his tongue lolling out of his drive­ling mouth, uncivilly calls it.

As gentle Shepherd in sweet Eventide
When rnddy Phoebus' gins to welk in West,
High on an hill his flock to viewen wide,
Marks which do bite their hasty supper best,
A cloud of cumb'rous Gnats do him molest,
All striving to infix their feeble stings,
That frō their' noyance he no where can rest,
But with his clownish hands their tender wings
He brusheth oft, and oft doth marre their mur­murings.

Nor have I here called my self Clown by craft, no more then the Poet calls the Knight so. But thy indiscreet wit cannot distinguish betwixt the Formale and Materiale, of that whence the similitude is fetched; which made theee so ill digest thy Philosophick Ba­con. It was thine own Magick, Phil. or per­verse imagination that turned thee into an Hog with tusks and bristles, not I. But to re­turn to the businesse: O thou judicious Cri­tick! What is the fault? where is the flaw in what thou hast recited?

— Praise with my quill Plato's Philosophy.

Thou dost onely play with the feather of the quil. But for what is writ with the inky end thereof, in those Poems of mine, I challenge thee to shew me if thou canst, where my phansie or reason hath really tript. Thou indeed hast attempted something in the Pla­tonick way, but I have made it manifest, thou hast writ with the quil of a goose. But I have penned down the praise of Plato's Philoso­phy in this Canto, with the skill of a man, as any man that hath skill will acknowledge, [Page 88] But thy spirit is not yet prepared for the knowledge of such divine matters. It is not yet fine, gentle, and benigne enough, to re­ceive so delicious impressions. Put thy soul into a crysiple, O pragmaticall Chymist, and set it on that fire, that will excoct and purge out thy drosse, and then judge of Platonisme. Art not thou the Chymicall Monkey that art very busie to little purpose about the glasses of Harry Blunden, an honest man and an happy Operatour in Chymistry as I hear? But thou dost nothing but lear and look up at the reek of the furnace, and sendest as high Theomagicall meditations after every fold or curle of smoke that mounteth up, as the mu­sing Ape after the flur and farre flight of every partridge he let out of the basket. But enough of Levity. Now to expiate the ex­cesse of this mirth with something more so­lid and sober. I am ready to answer what thou alleadgest, and to make good that my first observation is no oversight.

Thou art here mistaken in two things. First, in that thou conceivest that Reminis­cency is so strong an argument to prove the [Page 89] Preexistency of the soul before her entrance into the body. I say it is not any argument worth the insisting upon. For though the soul do finde truth in her self, questions being wisely proposed to her; yet she doth not per­ceive that she ever thought of those things before, and therefore cannot acknowledge any such Reminiscency in herself. And I appeal unto thine own reason, Eugenius, if God should create an humane soul, and put it into a body fit and complyable with con­templation, whether that soul would not be able to answer all the questions propounded in Plato's Meno, as well as those that are sup­posed to preexist. And therefore I have not made use of this argument in all my Platonical Poems. For I tell thee, Phil. I am a very wary Philosopher, and he must rise betimes that goes about to impose upon my reason. Thy second mistake is, that thou thinkest I condemn thy opinion of the Preexistency of the soul, which indeed I might well do as personating an Aristotelean. But what I real­ly blame there, is thy boldnesse and disad­vantagious rashnesse in the proposall of it, [Page 90] thou intimating, as if the soul descended into the body with her eyes broad wake, which the first page of thy Praeface to the Reader doth plainly imply. Let any one read and judge. But if any one ask what my opinion is, I answer, It is no matter what my opinion is, as it is mine, (for what man is [...]) but the discussion of the truth of these things he may find in my Poems.

Observat. 2.

Here, Philalethes, I charged thee with three absurdities.

The first was affectation of pomp and ce­remony in the finding out those things which can not be hid from the eyes of the meanest capacity. As pretending it was a whole springs task, to find out this conclusiō, viz. That things that are produced in Nature, are out of something in Nature unlike the things produced. To this thou answerest; that thou art not to be un­derstood, as if thou wert a whole spring in finding out this conclusion: For thou onely saist, I took to task the fruits of one spring. But I say, that one spring may signifie a whole [Page 91] spring, and your making a task of it seems to determine the words to that sense. And un­lesse thou tookest the pains of examining all the flowers that grew in the spring, one after another, I mean their kinds, it would prove no task, or at least be no proof for thy con­clusion. And therefore in all likelihood, one spring should signifie here a whole spring.

The second was, that thou art fain to ad­mit of two of Aristotles Principles, Matter and Privation. And this I inferred from the foregoing Conclusion. But thou answerest, That thou hast not so much as named Privation, much lesse acknowledged it for a Principle. That's no matter. Though thou hold thy peace thy observations speak it. That Viola est ex non viola, Rosa ex non Rosa, &c. Which is the very same thing the Peripateticks observe to be necessarily included in all generation, & therefore they make a Principle of it, and call it Privation.

The third absurditie was, that you seemed so simple, as to promise your self that you would find out the first matter, or the com­mon matter of all things by experience. To [Page 92] which you answer, That you have now found it out, felt it, and seen it. Well, Engenius, thou art grown a great Proficient, I perceive, since the last time I met thee. For then thou wast to seek for this first matter, now thou hast found it and felt it. Hast not thou felt the Ephi­altes, Phil? or is not thy phansie as grosse and thick as a syrup? I believe thou art as much Jesuite as I Puritan, tell me truly Phi­lalethes, dost not equivocate in this answer? and understandest by this first Matter, onely the first matter of some things, as meal is the first matter of pudding, and pycrust, and bread, and the like. But if thou saist thou hast seen and felt the first matter of all things whatsoever, thou hast pronounced what is impossible to be proved, and therefore as im­possible to be believed by the sober and wise. And yet unlesse thou pronounce thus, thou pronouncest nothing to the present purpose. For, by first Matter, is understood the com­mon matter of all things. But now to rebuke thy boldnesse in this assertion: Let me ask thee a sober question or two. This first Mat­ter, which thou soughtest after, and now [Page 93] hast found, whether hadst thou any marks to know it by, when thou didst light on it? For as Venus in the Poet, when she sends hue and cry after her little Fugitive, describes him from his marks;


So what ever is sought for by us, we ought to have an idea of it, that we may know it when we find it. As he that is to seek an horse in the field, if he have not an idea of an horse and of a cow, &c. he may bring one for the other. To be short, he that seeks without an idea of what is sought, seeks for he knows not what, and he will find it he knows not when. So that it was necessary for thee to have an idea of the first Matter, in thy mind when thou wentest about to find it out. Now tell me, what the idea of the first Matter can be, if not this? A substance out of which all corporeall things are made, but it self out of nothing. And this is, if thou understandest truth when it is propounded to thee, as true an idea of the first Matter, as, to have three angles, is the right idea of a Triangle. But answer me now, Engenius, in good earnest. [Page 94] Is that matter which thou saist thou hast seen and handled such as will fit with this idea? How canst thou ever prove but that that matter was made of some other matter, other­wise modified, as well as other things may be made of this? But I will deal very can­didly with thee, Philalethes: For I would fain have thee speak some sense. The idea of thy first Matter thou meanest may happily be this. Matter so prepared and qualified by the Art of Chymistry, that it is fit to receive any form whatsoever, or Matter that is re­duced to such a temper as it all was of at first, when it lay fitted for receiving of all forms of what nature so ever, and by this fitnesse engaged them to lodge in her large bosome. And thus though this Matter of thine be made of another matter, yet, be­cause it is reduced to the state it was in first of all, before it received any forms, and was contrived into this order and distinction of parts, that constitute the world, it may in this sense be called the first Matter. But tell me, Eugenius, how knowst thou that thou hast light on such a matter as this? Thou hadst [Page 95] no preconceived idea of the colour and con­sistency of this matter, which thou saist thou hast felt and and seen, unlesse somebody hath described it to thee, from certain sensible qualities. But then I would ask both them and thee, how they know that a body of this consistency and colour is the first matter? It is either because that they observe, that, what ever they resolve by their Chymicall fires is resolved into this at last, or because they have observed that all things will arise out of this matter. But for the first: I say, they have not, nor can make triall of all things by their Art. For how many things appear above us out of our reach? besides what lie eternally buried below. They can not distill the stars, as some say, glow-worms may be, and make them lamps of them to study by. Besides, why is that which is left, to be the first matter more then what is flown away and evaporated? And that which will not evaporate, I demand whe­ther that is the first matter of air and light? Adde to all this, That you do not so much find this first matter as make it in all likely­hood. [Page 96] For how incredible a thing is it, but that by your fires or heats, (you putting the body that is under your operation into a per­petuall motion, so that the parts fridge one against another uncessantly) the nature of it should be quite changed by you. So that you do not by a kind of Analysis discover what is at the bottome, but by Genesis modifie the matter into a new dresse. But that's no mat­ter you 'll say, so long as it is reduced to such a temper as it was, when the whole world was to be impregnated with severall forms. But there is no way now left for you to know that you have thus reduced it, unlesse you have seen this matter of yours. Vertum­nus-like to appear before you in all shapes. Tell me then, Philalethes, Have you seen it put on the form of a Sponge? of a Pumex? of Adamant? of Marble? Have you seen it put on the shape of all plants whatsoever and Animals? to say nothing of metals and mi­neralls. Have you play'd with it in the shape of a dog? or has it roared against you in the form of a lion? or have you made sport with the mustacho's of it in the figure of a [Page 97] mouse? Ha's Paracelsus his homunculus come tumbling out of it, with his tail upwards in signe of good luck? or hast thou conferr'd with it in the dresse of a wanton Ladie, cloth­ed with transparent lawns, or Sybariticall tiffanies? If thou hast not, (and darest thou say thou hast?) thou hast no reason at all to say thou hast seen and felt the first matter of all things. It is but vain boasting and bold imposture. Adde unto all this; That if there were any such matter as thou meanest, so fit for all forms, and yet fitted with none, the Mundus vitae, (or world of Lives and Forms) being every where present so as it is, this de­stitute widow, or marriageable Virgin could be no more kept from being match'd with one Form or other, then Danae could be from Jupiter, who notwithstanding the close custody she was under, descended into her lap in a golden shower. Wherefore I conclude, that it is not any certain Experience, but rash juvenilitie and confidence, that makes thee pronounce thou hast seen and felt the first Matter.

Observ. 3.

Here thou wouldst fain carp at my Hymne of Humility and Charitie, but thy pride and unchristian bitternesse onely makes thee grin at it, it representing that which is so contrary to thine own nature. But here is nothing said to any purpose, and therefore 'tis to no pur­pose to apply an answer. As for thy cavills against those expressions of mine, that we are to measure our wisedome by unprejudicate reason, by humility and purity of mind, and not by de­votion; the sense is, That we are to try how wise we are, or how safely we may conclude our selves to be wise, by examining whether we have put off all prejudice, and use our rea­son impartially, whether we be humble and set free from all corruption of Flesh and Spi­rit. For by these we may better and more safely conclude that we have used our under­standing aright, and are not mistaken in what we conceive, then by long, or hot, or humo­rous devotions, such as men seem but to play with God in, and rather shew the world what fine heats they have, then heartily desire the true good from him, whom they seem to so­licite [Page 99] for it. But thou art so galled with the sense, that thou wouldst fain revenge thy self upon the words.

In what sense I call the disciples of Aristo­tle orthodox, any body that hath any wit and urbanity in them may easily discern, and then my praises of Plato and Des-Chartes may con­sist very well with this passage.

But as for Scaligers making use of Aristo­tles text to make good Athanasius his Creed, I will be very fair with thee, Phil. He did first beleeve firmly, that there is such a Trinitie, and then made Aristotle speak to that purpose. Now do thou but first prove strongly thy Philosophicall positions by Reason, and then I give thee leave for further countenance to call in Moses his text.

Observ. 4.

Do you mention no life here, Eugenius? But then Georgius Venetus do's for you. Omne quod vivit, propter inclusum calorem vivit: in­dè colligitur, caloris naturam vim habere in se vitalem in mundo passim diffusam, &c. Con­strue it, Phil. and be pacified.

Observ. 5.

When you call it so in your own verse. Why it seems then you had a mind to write poeti­call Prose, which I am sure Mr. Bust of Eaton had like to have whipt me for when I was a boy. But I wonder how thou comest to stumble on this Stanza of mine above the rest. Let us bring it all forth intire into view.

The last Extreme the farthest off from light,
That's Natures deadly shadow, Hyle's cell.
O horrid Cave, and womb of dreaded Night!
Mother of witchcraft and accursed spell,
Which nothing can avail'gainst Israel,
No Magick can him hurt, his portion
Is not divided nature, he doth dwell
In light, in holy love, in union,
Not fast to this or that, but free communion.

O! now I see the reason, there is the word Magick named in it. But tell me, O Magicus! do'st thou understand what I have writ there? If thou didst, as thou shouldst do, and hadst an inward sense & feeling of it, thou wouldst make a bonefire of all thy books of curious Arts, as the Magicians did in the Apostles time, for joy of finding a better light. But I [Page 101] cannot expresse what I mean better then I have already in that Stanza.

Page 40. lin. 20. Prethee, Mastix, what is this subject? I'le tell thee. Nay, Aristotle shall tell thee: these are his words, Phys. l. 1. c. ult. [...]. Thou wilt not say that this is in nature, neither [...] nor [...], as thou barbarously speakest. And thou must give me leave to correct thy Greek, when there is need, as well as thou doest my Eng­lish where there is no need. Thy [...] is a monster, and hath one [...] too much, but I will not tread on this toe of thine too hard. I passe off, and come to thy head, that, I mean, that should dwel there; if there be any body within, let them answer me. Is not that defined there by Aristotle, (the sense whereof is sufficiently set out in my description of the Idea of the first matter) Is it not in nature, neither [...] nor [...]? I appeal to thine own reason if thou canst any wayes shift it, but that thou must conceive a matter various­ly changed into severall succeeding forms. [Page 102] Therefore that which continues the same nu­mericall substance, though in its notion in­complete, and sustains the succeeding form, that is a thing in Nature. But when we pre­cisely conceive it utterly devoid of all forms, that's a separation made onely by the fire of our understanding ( [...], the Oracles call it) not by your Chymicall fire: and this is not in Nature, but in our apprehensi­on. Whefore your assertion is false, when you say that this matter is neither [...], nor [...] in Nature. For though the notionall respect be not in Nature, the thing it self is. And this, I say, is a sober description, and si­gnifies something. But your horrible empty darknesse, which you say here is the first Mat­ter, doth but mock a mans fansie in the dark.

Page 42. line 15. The holy Spirit, say you, is not able to see, &c. I say, Anthroposophus, that it is you that have put things together so ill­favouredly, as if you implied so much; as the Reader may judge by perpending the ninth page of your Anthroposophia.

Page 43. line 20. As soon as God was. Where is thy Logick, Eugenius? doth that [Page 103] imply there was a time when God was not? when we say, that one is as wise as a wisp, does that imply the wisp is wise? I tell thee, a wisp is no wiser then thou art, Mr. Magicus. So if I say that the light of the Idea's was no later then the existence of God, that saying does neither stint nor stretch out the duration of Gods existence, but onely it coextends the light of the Idea's with that duration.

Page 44. line 1. But the water was not so. But what was the horrible empty darknesse? O thou man in the dark! was that ab aeterno, or not? and if that was, could not the Di­vine light shine in that darknesse? but I will wrestle no longer with such Lemures in the dark, as thy shifting fancie proves it self, O Anthroposophus! Let's go on, and see if we can get into the light.

Observ. 6.

And speak of Rationes seminales. Yes, I spake of them, and mov'd a very materiall question concerning them, to wit, what that Experiment in a glasse could do, for the con­firming or confuting the Rationes seminales. [Page 104] It had been your duty here to have satisfied this Quaere, but I perceive your inabilitie, and pardon you.

Observ. 7.

Line 10. I my self make the Naturall Idea no Idea at all. So then, Anthroposophus, this is the storie. There is a twofold Idea, a divine Idea, and an Idea which is no Idea at all: Ha ha he! Thou hadst abused me so unmercifully in this bitter book of thine, that I thought I should never have been able to laugh a­gain as long as I liv'd: But this would make a dog burst his halter with laughing, I must now laugh or die. What, art thou now turn­ed Preacher, Phil? though no Puritane by no means, and tel'st us of three kinds of Seek­ers, that they are either those which are both Seekers and Finders; or those that are Find­ers, but no Seekers; or lastly, such as are nei­ther Seekers nor Finders? Certainly when thou wrotest this book, thou hadst a plot to eternize thy fame, and leave thy folly up­on record.

Page 46. line 1. Cite him then, and pro­duce [Page 105] his words. Here they are Philalethes: [...], page 20. He there proves, that there are divine Idea's before the creation of the visible plants, from that text of Moses, Gen. 2. v. 4, 5. Philo's own words are these upon that text; [...], sayes he, [...] that is, Does not he manifestly set be­fore us incorporeall and intellectuall Idea's, which are the seals of Gods sensible works? for before the earth sent forth herbs, there was even then (Saith Moses) herbs, in Rerum Natura; and before the grasse grew, there was invisible grasse. Can you desire any thing more plain and ex­presse? But to make thee amends for laugh­ing at thy division of the Idea which had but one member, and hopped like one of the Mo­nocoli upon a single legge, I will give thee an­other Idea besides this out of the same Philo, and such as may be truly called both an Idea and a naturall one, a thing betwixt thy Ide­al vestiment, and the Divine Idea it self: [Page 106] [...] pag. 6. [...] that is, But the fruits was not onely for nourishment for living creatures, but preparations also for the perpetuall generati­on of the like kind of plants, they having in them Seminall Substances, in which the hidden and invisible forms of all things become mani­fest and visible by circumvolutions of seasons. These are the [...], or Rationes se­minales, the seminall Forms of things.

Observ. 11.

Page 48. line 9. Mastix is deliver'd of a Bull. This is a Calf of thy own begetting; but I have forgot all this while to render thee a Calf for a Bull as I promis'd thee. I am not toyish enough for thee, my little Phil. Do I say heat and siccity are Aqua vitae bot­tles? But may not heat, and siccity, and A­qua vitae be consentany arguments? what repugnancie is there in it? Answer, Logician: Therefore there is no Bull here, till thou be grown up to thy full stature.

Observ. 12.

Here I told you that you incompassing all with the Empyreal substance, you had left no room for Evening and Morning upon the Masse of the Earth. What do you answer to this? That the Empyreal substance was a fire which had borrowed its tincture from the light, but not so much as would illuminate the Masse of it self. No, Philalethes? Do not you say it retain'd a vast portion of light? and is not that enough to illuminate the Masse of it self? Nay, you say it made the first day without the Sunne, but now you unsay it a­gain. Pitifull baffled Creature! But as for those terrible mysterious radiations of God upon the Chaos, & dark Evaporations of the Chaos towards God, which thou wouldst fain shuffle off thy absurdities by; I say, they are but the flarings of thine own phansie, and the reeks and fumes of thy puddled brain. Dost thou tell me this from Reason or In­spiration, Phil? If from Reason, produce thy arguments; if from Inspiration, shew me thy Miracle.

Page 51. line 25. The clouds are in the [Page 108] Aire, not above it, &c. But if the clouds be the highest parts of the world, according to the letter of Moses, which is accommodated, as I shall prove, to the common conceit and sense of the Vulgar; then in the judgement of sober men it will appear, that thy Argument hath no agreement neither with Philosophy nor common sense. Now therefore to in­struct thee, as well as I do sometimes laugh at theee; I will endeavour to make these two things plain to thee. First, that Scripture speaks according to the outward appearance of things to sense and vulgar conceit of men.

Secondly, That following this Rule, we shall find the Extent of the World to be bounded no higher then the clouds, or there about: So that the Firmament, viz. the Air, (for the Hebrews have no word for the Air, distinct from Heaven or Firmament, Moses making no distinctiō) may be an adequate bar betwixt the lower and upper waters. Which it was requisite for Moses to mention, vulgar observation discovering that waters came down from above, viz. showers of Rain, and they could not possibly conceive, that unlesse [Page 109] there were waters above, that any water should descend thence. And this was it that gave occasion to Moses, of mentioning those two waters, the one above, the other beneath the firmament.

But to return to the first point to be pro­ved. That Scripture speaks according to the outward appearance of things to sense, and vulgar conceit of men. This I say is a con­fessed truth with the most learned of the He­brews. Amongst whom it is a rule for the un­derstanding of many and many places of Scripture. Loquitur Lex secundùm linguam fi­liorum hominum, that is, That the Law speaks according to the language of the sonnes of men: as Moses Aegyptius can tell you. And it will be worth our labour now to instance in some few passages.

Gen. 19. V. 23. The sunne was risen upon the Earth when Lot entred into Zoar. Which im­plies, that it was before under the Earth: Which is true onely according to sense, and vulgar phansie.

Deuteronom. 30. V. 4. [...] or [...], Implies that the earth is bound­ed [Page 110] at certain places as if there were truly an Hercules Pillar, or Non plus ultrá. As it is manifest to them, that understand but the naturall signification of [...] and [...]. For those words plainly import the Earth bound­ed by the blue Heavens, and the Heavens bounded by the Horizon of the Earth: they touching one another mutually. Which is true onely to sense and in appearance, as any man that is not a meer Idiot will confesse.

Ecclesiastic. cap. 27. V. 12. The discourse of a godly man is alwayes with wisdome, but a fool changeth as the moon. That's to be understood according to sense and appearance. For if a fool changeth no more then the Moon doth really, he is a wise and excellently accom­plished man, Semper idem, though to the sight of the vulgar different. For at least an He­misphear of the Moon is alwayes enlightned, and even then most when she least appears to us.

Hitherto may be referr'd also that, 2. Chron. 4.2. Also he made a molten Sea of ten Cubits from brim to brim round in compasse, and five Cubits the heigth thereof, and a line of thir­ty [Page 111] Cubits did compasse it round about. A thing plainly impossible that the Diameter should be ten Cubits and the Circumference but thirty. But it pleaseth the Spirit of God here to speak according to the common use and opinion of Men, and not according to the subtilty of Archimedes his demonstration.

Again Psalme 19. In them hath he set a tabernacle for the Sunne, which as a bridegroom cometh out of his chamber, and rejoyceth as a strong man to runne his race. This, as M. John Calvin observes, is spoken according to the rude apprehension of the Vulgar, whom Da­vid should in vain have indeavoured to teach the mysteries of Astronomy. Haec ratio est. (saith he) cur dicat tentorium ei paratum esse, deinde egredi ipsum ab una coeli extremitate, & transire celeriter ad partem oppositam; Neque enim argutè inter Philosophos de integro solis circuitu disputat, sed rudissimis quibusque se ac­commodans, intra ocularem experientiam se continet; ideóque dimidiam cursûs partem que sub Hemisphaerio nastro non cernitur, subticet­i. e. This is the reason, to wit, the rudenesse of the vulgar, why the Psalmist saith there is a tent [Page 112] prepared for the Sunne, and then that he goes from one end of the heaven and passes swiftly to the other: For he doth not here subtily dispute amongst the Philosophers of the intire circuit of the Sunne, but accommodating himself to the ca­pacity of every ignorant man, contains himself within ocular experience; and therefore saith no­thing of the other part of the course of the sunne, which is not to be seen as being under our He­misphear. Thus M. Calvin.

I'le adde but one instance more, Joshuah 10 V. 12. Sunne stand thou still upon Gibeon, and thou Moon in the Valley of Ajalon. Where it is manifest that Joshuah speaks not accord­ing to the Astronomicall truth of the thing, but according to sense and appearance. For suppose the Sunne placed and the Moon at the best advantage you can, so that they leave not their naturall course, they were so farre from being one over Ajalon and the other over Gibeon, that they were in very truth many hundreds of miles distant from them. And if the Sun and Moon were on the other side of the Equatour the distance might amount to thousands.

I might adjoyn to these proofs the suffra­ges of many Fathers and Modern Divines, as Chrysostome, Ambrose, Augustine, Bernard, Aquinas, &c. But 'tis already manifest enough that the Scripture speaks not according to the exact curiosity of truth, describing things [...], according to the very nature and essence of them; but [...], according to their appearance in sense, and the vulgar opinion of men. Nor doth it therefore fol­low that such expressions are false, because they are according to the appearance of things to sense and obvious phansie, for there is also a Truth of Appearance.

And thus having made good the first part of my promise, I proceed to the second; Which was to shew that the Extent of the world is to be bounded no higher then to the clouds, or thereabouts, that it may thence appear, that the upper waters mentioned in Moses, are the same with those Aquae in coelo stantes mentioned by Pliny, lib. 31. his words are these, Quid esse mirabilius potest aquis in coelo stantibus? and these waters can be no­thing else, but that contain'd in the clouds, [Page 114] which descends in rain; and so the whole Cre­ation will be contain'd within the compasse of the Aire, which the Hebrews call [...] quasi [...] ibi aquae: because it is sedes nubium, the place of clouds and rain. And that the world is extended no higher then thus, according to Scripture, it is appa­rent. First, because the clouds are made the place of Gods abode; whence we are to sup­pose them plac'd with the Highest. There he lives, and runns, and rides, and walks. He came walking upon the wings of the wind, in the 104 Psalm. Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters, who maketh the clouds his chariot, and walketh on the wings of the wind. Laieth the beams of His chambers in the wa­ters, to wit, the upper waters which are the clouds. The Almighties lodgings therefore according to the letter, are placed in the clouds. There about also is his field for ex­ercise and warre, Deut. 33.26. There is none like to the God of Jeshurun, who rideth upon the Heavens for thy help in his excellency on the sky, that is, upon the upper clouds, as Buxtorf in­terprets it, and indeed what can [...] pro­perly [Page 115] signifie above, but clouds? for below it signifies pulvis tenuissimus, small dust; and the clouds are as it were the dust of heaven. Vatablus also interprets that place of Gods riding on the clouds. And this agrees well with that of Nahum, chap. 1. V. 3. The Lord hath his way in the whirlwind, and the clouds are the dust of his feet. Here he is running as swift as a whirlwind, and raiseth a dust of clouds about him. You shall find him riding again, Psalme 68.4. and that in triumph; but yet but on the clouds: sutably to that in Deut. Sing unto God, sing praises unto his Name, extoll him that rideth upon the heavens by his name J A H, and rejoyce before Him. That rideth upon the Heavens; the Hebrew is [...], which I would be bold with Aben Ezraes leave, to translate, that rideth upon the clouds: For clouds cause darknesse, and the root from whence [...] is [...], which si­gnifies obtenebrari, obscurari. But for the ground of this Rabbies interpretation, to wit, upon the heavens, it is taken out of the 33 verse of the 68 Psalme, To him that rideth up­on the heaven of heavens of old. But if we [Page 116] read on there, we shall find that those heavens of heavens, in all probability, reach no higher then the clouds. For let's read the whole verse together, To him that rideth upon the heaven of heavens that were of old; Lo, he doth send out his voice, and that a mighty voice: what's that but thunder? and whence is thunder but out of the clouds? and where then doth God ride but on the clouds? The following verse makes all plain: Ascribe ye strength unto God; His excellency is over Isra­el, and his strength is in the clouds: which doth notably confirm, that the Extent of the Hea­vens, according to the letter of Moses and David too, are but about the height of the clouds. For here the heaven of heavens is the seat of thunder, and Gods strength and power is said to be in the clouds. Nor doth this expression of this height, to wit, the heaven of heavens of old, imply any distance higher. For sith all the Firmament from the lower to the upper waters is called Heaven; it is not a whit unreasonable that the highest part of this Heaven or Firmament, be called the Heaven of Heavens. And this is my first [Page 117] argument that the heaven or firmaments Ex­tent is but from the Sea to the Clouds, be­cause God is seated no higher in the outward phrase of Scripture.

My second argument is taken from the ad­joyning the heavens with the clouds exegeti­cally, one with another, for the setting out of that which is exceeding high, as high as we can expresse. And this the Psalmist doth of­ten, Psalme 36.5. Thy mercy, O Lord, is in the Heavens, and thy faithfulnesse reacheth unto the Clouds. And Psalme 57.10. For thy mercy is great unto the Heavens, and thy truth unto the Clouds. And Psalme 108.4. For thy mercy is great above the Heavens, and thy truth reacheth above the Clouds. Where heaven and clouds set off one and the same height, that which is exceeding high, the mercie and truth of God.

My last argument is from the Psalmists placing the Sunne, [...] in the clouds, or in the cloudy heaven. For the word must so si­gnifie as I did above prove, both from Te­stimony, and might also from the Etymon of the word. For [...] signifies comminuere, [Page 118] contundere, to beat to dust: and what are clouds but the dust of heaven, as I may so speak. Psalme 89. v. 36, 37. His seed shall endure for ever, and his throne as the Sunne before me. It shall be established for ever as the Moon, and as the faithfull witnesse [...] in heaven: that is, in the sky, the place where the clouds are. The drawing down therefore of the Sunne, that faithfull witnesse in heaven, so low as the clouds, implies that the letter of the Scri­pture takes no notice of any considerable part of the firmament above the clouds, it termi­nating its expressions alwayes at that Extent. And this sutes very well with Moses his cal­ling the Sun and the Moon the great lights, and making nothing as it were of the starres, as is manifest out of the 16 verse of the first of Genesis. And God made two great lights, the greater light to rule the day, and the lesse to rule the night; He made the starres also. But they come as cast into the bargain, as not so consi­derable, when as indeed a star of the first ma­gnitude is (according to the calculation of the Astronomers) twenty thousand times bigger then the earth, and the earth five and fourty [Page 119] times bigger then the Moon; so that one star of the first magnitude will prove about nine hundred thousand times bigger then the Moon. Which notwithstanding, according to the letter of Moses, is one of the two great lights, the sole Empresse of the night. But here the letter of Moses is very consistent with it self. For sith that the Extent of heaven is not acknowledged any higher then the clouds, or thereabout (wherein as I shewed you, the Sun is, and consequently the Moon, and it will not be more harsh ro make the starres stoop so low too; nay, they must indeed of necessitie all of them be so low, they ha­ving no where else to be higher, according to the usuall phrase of Scripture, the appearan­ces of the starres will then to our sight suffi­ciently set out their proportions one to ano­ther, and the Sun and the Moon (according to this Hypothesis) will prove the two great lights, and the starres but scatter'd sky-peb­bles. Wherefore from all this harmony and correspondencie of things, I think I may safely conclude, that the Extent of the Fir­mament according to Moses, is but the di­stance [Page 120] from the sea to the clouds, or there a­bouts, as well as it is to our sight, which can­not discern any intervall of altitudes betwixt the clouds and the Moon, the Moon and the Sunne, and lastly betwixt the Sunne and the fixed Stars. Which interpretation I am confi­dent any man will admit of, that can bring down the tumour of his Philosophick phansy unto a vulgar consistencie and fit compliance with the sweetnesse and simplicity of Moses his style.

And thus, Philalethes, have I proved that there is no room for thy interstellar waters within the compasse of Moses his Creation, unlesse they run into one, and mingle with the rain or clouds.

Observat. 13.

Here I called the Ptolemaick Systeme a rum­bling confused Labyrinth. So you did Phila­lethes, & I perceive you will do so again. But prethee tell me, dost thou mean the Heavens rumble? and so understandest or rather hear­est the rumbling harmony of the Sphears? or dost thou mean the Labyrinth rumbles? [Page 121] I perceive the man hath now some guts in his brains, and he is troubled with the rum­bling of them in their ventricles, and so thinks there is a noise when there is none. I tell thee, Philalethes, a wheel-barrow may be said to rumble, for to rumble is to make an ill-favour'd ungratefull noise; but no body will say the heavens or a labyrinth doth rum­ble, but such as are no Englishmen, as you say somewhere you are not, and so do not un­derstand the language.

Pag. 53. A confused wheelbarrow is a bull. Is a wheel-barrow a bull? what a bull is that? But confused, I added not confused to wheel­barrow, that's thy doing, thou authour of confusion!

Line 18. The Epicycles in respect of their orbs are but as a Mite in a cheese. Do you say so, Mr Lilly? No. Do you say so, Mr Booker? No. Look thee now, Phil, how thy confi­dent ignorance hath abused those two fa­mous Artists. They are ashamed to utter such loud nonsense. And now they have de­nyde it, darest thou venture to say it, Anthro­posophus? Tell me then how little and dimi­nutive [Page 122] those Epicycles will prove in respect of their orbs, that have their diameters equall to the diameter of the orbit of the earth, or which is all one of the sunne. Thou wilt an­swer me with the Cyclops in Erasmus, Istius­modi subtilitates non capio. I do not not be­lieve thou understandest the Question, though it be plainly propounded, and so I shall ex­pect no answer.

But come thy wayes hither again, Phil. thou shalt not scape thus. I will not let thee go til I have called thee to an account for thy great bull of Basan as thou wouldst call it. Thou sayest, That the Epicycles of Ptolemy though they are too bigge to be true, yet that they are very diminutive things in respect of their orbs that sustein them; as little and diminu­tive as mites in a cheese in respect of the cheese. To speak the most favourably of this asser­tion of thine that may be, it is sublime Astro­nomicall Nonsense. And if we could find any Nonsense sublunary to paralell it, it would be some such stuff as this: Although the cannon bullets in the tower be as bigge as mount Athos, yet they are so little that they [Page 123] will not fill the compasse of a walnut. This is a bundle of falsities and so is that. That is, Both the parts of these compound Axioms are false, and the composition it self also ille­gitimate. These are Discrete Axioms, Euge­nius, and both the parts ought to be true, but they are both false here. And there ought also, especially these notes Quamvis and ta­men being in them, to be onely a Discretion of parts, but here is an implacable Opposition: things put together that imply a contradicti­on. In the latter of these Axioms it is mani­fest, but I will shew you, it is so also, in that former of yours.

For first, the Epicycles of Ptolemy, are not too bigge to be true. For they do not sup­pose them bigger then will be conteined, within the thicknesse of their own orbs. And you your self say that they are but as mites in a cheese in respect of their orbs. So that it is plain according to what you your self grant, as well as according to the Hypothesis of Ptolemy, that they are not too bigge to be true.

But secondly, I say they are not as little as [Page 124] Mites in respect of the cheese they are in. For the semi-diameter of Saturns Epicycle is to the semi-diameter of his Eccentrick, at least as 1 to 10. and the semi-diameter of Jupi­ters Epicycle to the semi-diameter of his Ec­centrick more then as 1 to 6. but Mars his, as 2 to 3, or thereabout, and the semidiame­ter of the Epicycle of Venus, to the semidia­meter of her eccentrick more then as 2 to 3 by a good deal. And is it not plain hence Eugenius, that thy mite in a cheese must swell up at least to the bignesse of a Mouse in a cheese, though thy cheese were almost as little as a trundle bed wheel, or a box of Mar­malade: and what a vast difference is there betwixt a Mite and a Mouse, but thy igno­rance emboldens thee to speak any thing.

But now in the last place, the putting these two falsities together is contradiction, as well as they are severally false. For it is evident, that if the Epicycles be too bigge to be true, they cannot be so little as Mites in a cheese, in respect of their orbs. For then would they be easily contain'd within the crassities or thicknesse of their orbs. But their not being [Page 125] able to be conteined within the Crassities of their orbs, that's the thing that must make them too bigge to be true.

And questionlesse if we will joyn the Epi­cycle with its right office, which is to bring down the Planet to its lowest Perigee, then the Epicycles of the planets will be too bigge to be true. For there will be of them that are half as big again as their Deiferents, nay five times if not ten times as big. And of these Epi­cycles I said (and Ptolemies ought to have been such, unlesse they did desert their office) that they were too bigge to be true. But thou pronouncest concerning these things thou knowst not what, and therefore art easily tost up and down like a shittle cock thou knowst not whither. How do I blow thee about as the dust or the down of thistles?

— ut plumas avium pappósque volantes.

Observ. 16.

Thou Moore à [...] As much as a [...] Thou art so drunk & intoxicated with thine own bloud (as Aristotle saith of all young men that they are [...]) that thou seest double, two O's in my name for one.

Observ. 19.

See what I answer at observation the 23.

Observ. 20.

Phy, Phy, some rose-water. Who speaks like a Puritan now, Phil? but why some rose water? hast thou devoured an Orenge like an apple, pulp and pill and all, and so made thy mouth bitter, O thou man of Wales! But it is to wash hur mouth from bawdry. Why wilt thou be so bold then as to name the Lawyers phrase rem in re! Or hast thou a purpose to call all the Lawyers, bawdy Gentlemen, by craft? I tell thee, Phil. To the pure all things are pure; but thy venerious phansie which I rebuked in this passage thou exceptedst a­gainst, doth soyl and corrupt what is chast and pure.

Observ. 21.

I do, Mastix, I do. Why doest thou not then explain it, thou little Mastigia?

Observ. 23.

Here I have you fast, Philalethes, for all your [Page 127] wriggling. For if our vitall and animal spi­rits, which are as much a part of us, as any other part of our body is, be fed and nou­rished by the Aire, then the Aire is an Ele­ment of our body. But here he would fain save himself, by saying that the Aire is rather a Compound then an Element: but let any man judge how much more it is compound­ed then the Earth, and then Water which nourisheth by drinking, as well as the Aire can do by breathing.

Observ. 24.

Page 59. line 1. How can darknesse be cal­led a Masse? &c. No it cannot. Nor a thin vaporous matter neither. Thy blindnesse cannot distinguish Abstracts from Concrets. Thy soul sits in the dark, Philalethes, & nibbles on words as a mouse in a hole on cheese pa­rings. But to slight thy injudicious cavil at Mass, & to fall to the Matter. I charged thee here to have spoke such stuff as implies a Contradiction. Thou saidest that this Masse (be it black or white, dark or bright, that's nothing to the Controversie here) did con­tain [Page 128] in a farre lesse compasse all that was after extracted. I say this implies a Contradiction. But you answer, this is nothing but Rarefa­ction and Condensation according to the common notion of the Schools. I but that Notion it self implies a Contradiction, for in Rarefaction and Condensation there is the generation or deperdition of no new Matter, but all matter hath impenetrable dimensions. Therefore if that large expansion of the hea­vens lay within the compasse of the Masse, that matter occupyed the same space that the masse did, and so dimensions lay in dimensi­ons, and thus that which is impenetrable was penetrated, which is a contradiicton. What thou alleadgest of the rarefaction of water into clouds or vapours, is nothing to the pur­pose. For these clouds and vapours are not one continued substance, but are the parti­cles of the water put upon motion, and play­ing at some distance one from another, but do really take up no more place then be­fore.

Observ. 26.

To say nothing to thy fond cavil at words in the former Observation, and thy false ac­cusation that I called thee dog (for I would not dishonour Diogenes so much as to call thee so) and leaving it to the censure of the world, how plain and reall thy principles are, I am come now to my 26 Observation on the 23 page of thy Anthroposophia, where thou tellest us, That there is a threefold Earth, viz Elementary, Celestiall, Spirituall. Now let us see what an excellent layer of the fundamen­tals of Science thou wilt prove thy self. And here he begins to divide before he defines. Thou shouldest first have told us what Earth is in generall before thou divide it. This is like a creature with a cloven foot, and never a head. But when thou didst venture to define these Members, where was thy Logic?. Ought not every definition, nay, ought not every Precept of Art to be [...] but I will not vex thy head with these severi­ties. The Magnet is the second member, the object of this 26 Observation. Here you say, I condemn this Magnet, but I do not offer to [Page 130] confute it. But I answer, I have as substanti­ally confuted it as merrily; but thou dost not take notice of it. I have intimated that this precept of art is not [...] nay, that it is plainly false: For it affirms that which hath no discovery by reason or experience, viz. That there is a certain earth which you call the Magnet, that will draw all things to it at what distance so ever.

Quodcunque ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odi. So far am I from approving thy Magnet, O Magicus. Nor do the pages thou here citest, of which I give a favourable censure, prove any such thing. Let the Reader peruse them, and judge. Indeed certain operations of the soul, are highly and Hyperbolically there set out by thee; but the Magnet came dropping in at the latter end of the story. I gave no allowance to that. I will not have my soul so ill taught, as to attract metall out of mens purses at any distance whatsoever.

Page 64. line 12. Didst thou ever hear or know that I was a pick-pocket? If I had had the least suspicion of thee that thou wert so, I would not have called thee so, for it had [Page 131] been an unmercifull jest. But if thou wert as full of candour and urbanity, as I deem thee clear of that crime, thou wouldst not have interpreted it malice but mirth. For such jests as these are not uncivil nor abusive to the person, when the materiality of them are plainly and confessedly incompatible to the party on whom they are cast.

Observ. 27.

Page 65. line 14. Prethee why a Gallileo's tube, were there more Galileo's then one? Cer­tainly, Phil. thou dost not look through a Galilco's glasse, but through a multiplying glasse, that seest in my English more Galileos then one. Go thy wayes for the oddest cor­rectour of English that ever I met with in all my dayes.

Observ. 28.

Page 67. line 1. For I fear God. The De­vills also beleeve and tremble: But do'st thou love God, my Philalethes? If thou didst, thou wouldst love thy brother also. But shall I tell thee truly what I fear? Truly I [Page 132] fear, that thou hast no such pretious medicine to publish, which thou makest so nice of; and that thou dost onely make Religion a cover for thine ignorance. But let me tell thee this sober truth, That Temperance will prevent more diseases by far, then thy medicine is like to cure; and Christian Love would re­lieve more by many thousands, then thy Phi­losophers stone that should convert baser me­talls into gold. There is gold enough in the world, and all necessaries else for outward happinesse; but the generations of men make themselves miserable by neglecting the in­ward. This is palpably true, and it would a­stonish a man to see how they run madding after the noise of every pompous difficulty, and how stupid and sottish they are to those things, which God has more universally put in their power, and which would (if they made use of them) redound to their more ge­nerall and effectuall good.

Observ. 29.

So doth S. John prophesie too. But Magicus is too wise to understand him. S. John tells [Page 133] us of a new Heaven, and of a new Earth. Here, Magicus, having recourse to his Chy­mistrie, in the height of his imagination pre­figures to himself not onely Crystalline Heavens, but also a Vitrifide Earth. But I consulting with Scripture, and with the sim­plicity of mine own plain Spirit, think of a new Heaven and a new Earth wherein dwels righteousnesse. He's for an Eden with flowry walks, and pleasant trees; I am for a Pa­radisc,


Where Virtue, Wisdome, and good Order meet. As the Chaldee Oracles describe it. He is for a pure clear place, I place my happinesse in a clear and pure mind, which is the holy place or temple of God.

Observ. 30.

Tecum habita. I will not urge that Precept too strictly upon thy self, because I wish thee a better companion.

Observ. 31.

For thy ho! sounds like the noise of a Sow­gelder. [Page 134] As much as the celestiall orbs or la­byrinth rumble like a wheel-barrow. This is but the crowing of thine own brain to the tune of the Sow-gelders horn.

Observ. 32.

Here in answer to my objection thou tel­lest me that Ruach and Nephesh, the parts whereof the soul of man consists, differ as male aud female. All the mysterie then is to make mans soul an Hermaphrodite. Thou shouldst have told us here what operations were proper to Ruach, what to Nephesh, whe­ther vegetation belong to the one, reason and sense to the other: or whether in this the di­vine life were seated, in that the animal and fleshly reason, and the like. But the subtiltie of thy wit reacheth no further then the dis­crimination of sexes, and the grossely point­ing out of Male and Female.

Page 69. line 9. For your Sodomite Patron Aristotle, allows of it in his Politicks. More wretched beast he if it be so: but I do not re­member any such passage in his Politicks, and yet have read them through, but long since; [Page 135] and it is sufficient for me if I remember the best things in Authours I read, I can willing­ly let go the worst. But what thou sayest of Aristotle is not unlikely; for he is tax'd for this unnaturall practise in Diogenes Laertius, whith one Hermias a foul friend of his, in the praise of whom notwithstanding he hath wrote a very fair and elegant Hymne, which begins thus,


To this sense,

Vertue! that putst humane race
Upon so hard toyl and pains;
Lifes fairest prize! Thy lovely face
Bright Virgin, the brave Greek constrains
To undergo with an unwearied mind
Long wasting labours, and in high desire
To throng through many deaths to find
Thee; that dost fire
Mans soul with hopes of such immortall fruit
No gold can sute,
Nor love of Parents equalize,
Nor slumbers sweet that softly seize the eyes.

So easie a thing is it for bad men to speak good words.

It is recorded by the same authour out of Aristippus, that the same Philosopher was al­so so much taken with the conversation of Hermias his whore, that in lieu of that plea­sure he reap'd by her, he did the same cere­monies and holy rites to her, that the Antheni­ans were wont to do to their goddesse Ceres Eleusinia. From whence it seems that his soul did consist of two parts, Male and Fe­male, he having to do with both. So that he is more like to prove thy Patrone then mine, Philalethes! for I have to do with neither.

Page 69. line 10. But I am tickled say you. Yes, I say you are so tickled and do so tickle it up in your style with expressions fetched from the Gynaeceum, that you are ridiculous [Page 137] in it, and I thought good to shew you to be such as you are. But for mine own part I am moved neither one way nor another with any such things, but think good to affix here this sober consideration. That there being generally in Men and Women that are not ei­ther Heroically good, or stupidly and beastly naught, a kind of shame and aversation in the very naming of these things, that it is a signe that the soul of man doth in its own judge­ment find it self here in this condition of the body, as I may so speak, in a wrong box, and hath a kind of presage and conscience that better and more noble things belong unto it, ese why should it be troubled at its own pro­clivity to that which is the height and flower of the pleasure of the body as they that are given to this folly do professe.


To this sense.

What life? what sweet without the golden tie
Of Venus? dead to this, streight let me die.

But that there is a naturall shame of these acts and the propension to them, that story of [Page 138] Typhon in Diodorus Siculus is no obscure ar­gument. For when he had murdered his brother Osiris, that he might more sacra­mentally bind to him for his future help and security, his twenty foure Accomplices in this act, he hew'd the body of his brother into so many peices, but was fain to fling the [...] his Pudendum into the river, they every one being unwilling to take that for their share. So much aversation is there naturally from these obscenities that even those that are otherwise execrably wicked, have some sense of it. But I do not speak this as if Marriage it self were a sinne as well as whoredome and adultery, for question­lesse it is permitted to the soul in this case shee's in. But if she be not monstrous and degenerate she cannot but be mindfull that she is made for something farre better.

Observ. 33.

To this observation thou answerest like a man with reason and generosity and with a well beseeming wit, how unlike to thy self art thou here, Anthroposophos?

Observ. 34.

I perceive by thy answer to this observa­tion thou art not at all acquainted with Ra­mus what ere thou art with the Schoolmen, but I passe over this and come to what is of more moment.

Page 71. line 19. This is one of your three designes. Yes, it is one of those three designs I tax'd you for in the beginning of my Ob­servations. And here I make it good out of your own text Anthroposophia pag. 33. line 1. These are your words. And now Reader, Ar­rige aures, come on without prejudice and I will tell thee that, which never hitherto hath been discovered. What can be more plain if you will but prick up your eares and attend to what you say your self. But now I have dis­covered that this is but a boast of yours con­cerning a known Notion among the Christi­an Platonists, you begin to pluck in your eares and confesse your self a Plagiary. In the rest of your answer you do but teach your Gran­nam to crack nuts, I go on Magicus to the next.

Observ. 35.

As a flame of one candle can light a thousand candles more. Your answer then to this Ob­servation is this. That the soul is propagated as light is from light; That there is a multi­plication without decision or division. But for thine and the Readers fuller satisfaction I shall answer thee here, as thou somewhere demandest, in the verse of Spencer but in the reason and sense of More, out of these four Stanzaes in my Canto of the Preexistency of the Soul.

Wherefore who thinks from Souls new Souls to bring
The same let presse the sunne beams in his fist,
And squeeze out drops of Light, or strongly wring
The Rain-bow, till it die his hands well prest;
Or with uncessant industry persist
Th' intentionall species to mash and bray
In marble morter, till he has exprest
A Soveraine eye-salve to discern a Fay.
As easily as the first all these effect you may.
Ne may queint Similes this fury damp,
Which say that our souls propagation
Is, as when lamp we lighten from a lamp,
Which done withouten diminution
Of the first light, shews how the soul of man
Though indivisible may another rear
Imparting life. But if we rightly scan
This argument, it cometh nothing neere.
To light the lamp's to kindle the sulphureous gear
No substance new that act doth then produce.
Onely the oyly atomes't doth excite
And wake into a flame. But no such use
There is of humane Sperm. For our free sprite
Is not the kindled seed, but substance quite
Distinct there from. If not: Then bodies may
So changed be by Nature and Stiffe fight
Of hungry stomachs, that what earst was clay
Then hearbs, in time it self in sence may well dis­play.
For then our Soule can nothing be but bloud,
Or nerves, or brains, or body modifyde;
Whence it will follow that cold stopping crud
Hard mouldy cheese, dry nuts, when they have rid
Due circuits through the heart, at last shall speed
Of life and sense, look thorough our thin eyes,
And view the Close wherein the Cow did feed
Whence they were milk'd; grosse Py-crust will grow wise
And pickled Cucumbers sans doubt Philosophize

Observ. 37.

Bid adiew to thy reputation Mastix. Well, now I perceive that thou thinkest that thou hast hit the nail on the head indeed. But all that thou dost or canst collect from what is in my Preface to the Canto concerning the sleep of the Soul, is but this: that whether we see or imagine that both of these are but the very Energie of the Soul, and that the Soul doth not nor can perceive any thing imme­diately but her own Energie. But what of all this? It doth not thence follow that the in­ward & outward sense is all one, but only uni­tate genericâ, no more then if I should say, that to be an Animal is but to have corporeal sub­stance, life and sense, it would thence follow that an horse and a man are all one. Look [Page 143] thee now, Magicus, how I have passed through this huge Mound and Bulwark of thine, with as much ease and stilnesse as a gliding Spirit through a Mud-wall. I will onely look back and laugh at thee Magicus, for a man of no Logick. But if any man doubt whether thou saist blind men see in their sleep, it is apparent that thou doest. For in thy Anthroposophia, Page 40. line 1. thou saist, That the visible power is not destroyd as is plain in the dreams of blind men. Here if thou knowst what thou saist, thou arguest from the effect to the cause, from the opera­tion to the faculty, but is the operation of the Visive faculty (for thou dost barbarously call it visible) any thing else but seeing? there­fore thou dost plainly assert that blind men see in their sleep. It would be well if they could walk in their sleep too: for then they would scarce have any losse of their eyes.

Observ. 38.

Magicus, I do not altogether contemn the Symboles and Signatures of nature, but I be­lieve that Euphrasia or Eye-bright that hath [Page 144] the signature of the Eye, sees or feels no more, then the pulp of a wal-nut that hath the signature of the brain, doth understand or imagine.

Observ. 39.

What a pitifull account dost thou give me here of the difficulties I urged thee with. My Queres were these, You making two spirits in a man the Rationall and Sensi­tive. First, Whether the Rationall Spirit doth not hear and see in a man? Here you distinguish. The Sensitive Spirit sees the Object (say you) and the Rationall the Species. But I say unto thee, that sensati­on is nothing else, but the perceiving of some present corporeall object; and that the ratio­nall soul doth. For when two men discourse, that in them that reasons, hears the words, and sees the party with whom it reasoneth, does it not? Therefore they both see the ob­ject: But you will say, One sees by a species, the other without. I say nothing can be dis­cerned without a species, that is, without an actuall representation of the thing discerned. [Page 145] So that that distinction is in vain. And I would adde this further, That every sentient spirit must perceive by its own species, and not by anothers. But thou sayest, This sensitive Spirit like a glasse represents the species of externall objects. Then it seems the Sensi­tive spirits office is to be the glasses of the soul to see things in, but glasses themselves, Magicus, are not sentient, nor need this Spirit be so, that is the souls glasse; and it is plain it is not. For if these two were two different sensitive spirits, then they would have two different Animadversions; but there is but one animadversive spirit in a man, and therefore but one Sensitive. And that there is but one animadversive spirit in a Man is plain from hence, that if the Rationall animadversive bestow its animadversion fully elsewhere, the Sensitive in man cannot perform the thou­sandth part of that which is performed in brutes. We should loose our selves in the most triviall matters, when notwithstanding this sensitive spirit in man, would have as quick a vehicle as in most brutes. Besides, this sensitive spirit having this animadversi­on, [Page 146] would have also a Memory apart, and would be able while the Rationall is busied about something else, to lay up observations such as beasts do by it self; and then long af­ter to shew them to the Rationall, to its sud­den amazement and astonishment. But none of these things are. And in my apprehension it is, in a very grosse and palpable way, sen­sible to me, that there is but one Animadver­sive in me, and I think I am no monster; If I be, it is (it seems) in that I am all rationall spirit, and have had the luck to misse of the sensitive, the beast.

Page 77. line 3. If this be true, then there be two hearing and seeing souls in a man. This is my second Quere; I ask'd if there be. To this you answer, Ha ha he! A very pro­found answer. This is no laughing matter, my friend. Have I not already shew'd you some difficulties, this asserting two sensitive Spirits in a man, is laden with? Answer them, Phil. I should gladly heare thee use thy tongue as well as see thee shew thy teeth by laughing. For that slender faint reason that follows thy loud laughing, viz. The objects [Page 147] are different and the senses are different, that is taken away already. For the sting of my Argument is not this, that there would be two sensitive souls of the same nature in the body of a man; but that there should be two sensitive souls at all. And indeed, consider­ing that the superiour soul contains the facul­ties of the inferiour, it is altogether needlesse. And that is a very sober truth, Entia non sunt multiplicanda sine necessitate. Which is to the same sense with that so often repeated in Ari­stotle and Theophrastus, [...] God and Nature do nothing in vain. And the right organization of parts and due tempera­ture of the body, and proportion of animal spirits, this is all the glasse the soul of man wants in this life, to see by or receive species from. But this glasse hath no more sense it self, then an urinall or looking-glasse hath. Where are you now, Phil. with your Ha hahe?

Line 10. I could, Mastix, teach thee an higher truth. Yes truly, Magicus, you are best of all at those truths which dwell in the Highest. You love to soar aloft out of the ken of sense and reason, that you may securely Raunt it [Page 148] there in words of a strange sound and no si­gnification. But though thou fliest up so high, like a Crow that hath both his eyes bor'd out, yet I have thee in a string, and can pluck thee down for all thy fluttering. Thou sayest that a soul may understand all things, sine conversione ad Phantasmata: this I sup­pose thou wouldst say to contradict Aristotle; but I do not suspect thee of so much learning as to have read him. He tells us in his book De Anima, [...] that there is no understanding without Phan­tasmes. You say that we may understand all things without them. What think you of In­dividualls, Magicus? of which it is contro­verted amongst the Platonists, whether there be any Idea's of them or no. But being you are so confident an assertor, let's heare how stout a prover you are of your assertions. Know you this you have spoken by Sense, Reason, or divine Revelation? By this string I have pluck'd this blind Crow down; I have him as tame in my hand as a Titmouse: look how he pants, and gapes, and shews the white tip of his tongue, but sayes nothing. [Page 149] Go thy wayes, Phil. for a pure Philosophick Thraso.

Observ. 41.

Three quarters of a year hast thou spent, &c. O Magicus, Magicus! thou art youthfull and vain-glorious, and tellest thy Tutour that this hasty cookery thou entertainest him with, was dispatch'd and dress'd up some ten daies after the Presse was deliver'd of my Ob­servations. How many ten dayes doest thou mean, by thy some ten dayes? Thou wouldst have thy Tutour to stroke thee on the head for a quick-parted lad, I perceive, Eugenius. But hadst thou not better have staid longer, and writ better sense, more reason, and with lesse rayling? But I poore slow beast! how long dost thou think I was viewing and ob­serving that other excellent piece of thine? I confesse, Magicus, because thou forcest me to play the fool as well as thy self, I was almost three quarters of a Moneth about it; and how much more is that then some ten dayes, though but twice told over? and I will not be so curiously vain-glorious, as to tell thee [Page 150] how great a share of this time was daily ta­ken from me by necessary imployments. This is to answer thy folly with folly. But I thank God that I glory in nothing, but that I feel my self an Instrument in the hand of God, to work the good of Men. The great­est strength of a man is weaknesse, and the power of Reason, while we are in this state, depends so much of the organs of the body, that its force is very uncertain and fickle. Is not the whole consistency of the body of Man, as a crudled cloud or coagulated va­pour? and his Personality a walking shadow and dark imposture? All flesh is grasse, and the glory thereof as the flower of the field: but the word of the Lord endureth for ever. Verily the people are as grasse.

Observ. 42.

Have at you my friends the Independents. The Independents indeed may be thy friends, Magicus; but I dare say thou art not in a ca­pacitie to be theirs, as having not yet wit and morality enough to be a friend unto thy self. [...] [Page 151] A bad man can­not be friendly disposed towards himself, as having nothing in himself amiable and friendly, Aristot. Eth. ad Nicom, lib. 9. cap. 4.

Observ. 43.

Mastix, You denied formerly the Scripture was intended for Philosophie. But you contend­ing that it was, how fondly do you preferre Agrippa before Moses and Christ. This you would have called blasphemy; but I have learned no such hard language.

Observ. 44.

For the naturall Queres I put to thee here concerning the nature of Light, the Rain­bow, the Flux and Reflux of the Sea, and the Load-stone; I tell thee thou wilt never be able to answer sense to them, unlesse thou turn Cartesian, and explain them out of that Phi­losophy. But in the Generall, I mean, that the heats which the soul takes from personall admiration, make her neither wise, nor just; nor good, but onely disturbe the spirits, and disadvantage Reason.

Observ. 45.

Page 81. line 2. Mastix would gladly put those asunder, whom God hath put together. You mean then that a Protestant and Chri­stian, are termini convertibiles. What a rare Independent is Magicus! he is an Indepen­dent of the Church of England; which is as good sense as if he should say, he is a Prote­stant of the Church of Rome. Truly, Magi­cus, I think thou art an Independent in no­thing but in thy Reasons and speeches; for in them indeed there is no dependency at all. They are Arena sine calce, and hang together like thum-ropes of sand. But before I be merry with thee; and I fore-see I shall be when I come to thy verses, heare this sober Aphorisme from me. If that those things which are confessedly true in Christianity were closely kept to by men, it would so fill and satisfie their souls with an inward glori­ous light and spirituall joy, that all those things that are with destroying zeal and un­christian bitternesse prosecuted by this and that Church, would, look all of them as contemptibly, as so many rush-candles in the light of the Sun.

Line 15. You fall on my person. Well, I'le let your person go now, and fall on your Po­etry. Where I believe, I shall prove you a notable wagge indeed, and one that has abused your mother Oxford and all her chil­dren very slyly and dryly.

Dry Pumick statues. You make your own brothers of Oxford then so many dry Pumi­ces, things that have nothing in them at all. I wish you had been so too Phil, for you have been to me a foul wet Spunge, and have squeazed all your filth upon my person, as you call it. But if thou knewest how reall a friend I am to thy person, excesse of kind­nesse would make thee lick it all off again.

Might make a marble weep to bear your verse. It seems then, you of Oxford make such dull heavy verses, that it would make a Monument of Marble like an overladen Asse, weep to bear the burden of them.

Shee heav'd your fancies. What heavy lea­den fancies are these that want such heaving. Up heavy heels. But how high did she heave them, Phil? As high as the other lead was heaved that covers the roof of your Chur­ches [Page 154] and Chappels? Nay higher. Above the very Pinacles, Mastix! A marvellous height, but the Jack-Daws of our Universi­ty sit higher then thus, so it seems that the souls of the sonnes of your Mother Oxford are elevated as high as the bodies of the Jack­daws in the University of Cambridge. What large elevated phansies have your Acade­micks that reach almost as farre as the eye and sense of an ordinary Rustick! Your phansie's higher then the Pinacles, his sight higher then the Clouds, for he may see the Sunne and the Starres too, if he be not blind.

Blest in her Martyrdome had you but shed — A Tear, &c. The sense is, I suppose, that your Mother had been burnt for a blessed Martyr if her Sonnes had afore-hand quenched out the fire with their tears.

-One poore sigh for her last breath — That we may say she liv'd before her death. Here he ac­cuseth his Mother for sucking her childrens breath as, they say, a Cat doth young chil­drens. Go thy wayes Phil, for an unmerci­full wit. I perceive thou wilt not spare neither [Page 155] Father Presbyter, nor thy Mother, nor thine own Brothers, but thou wilt break thy jest upon them. Well I now forgive thee hear­tily for all thy abuses upon me, I perceive thou wilt not spare thy dearest friends.

Observ. 47.

Thou art not well acquainted with Gold thou art not a man of that Metall. Here, Magicus, thy want of Logick hath made thee a little witty. For if thou hadst understood that comparison doth not alwayes imply any positive degree in the things compared, this conceit had been stifled before the birth. Thou saist somewhere, that I am a thin, lean Philosopher; but I say, I am as fat as a hen is on the forehead. Whether do I professe my self lean or fat now? As lean as thou dost. Now when I say as Orient as false gold, do I say that false gold is Orient. Thou art a meer Auceps syllaba­rum, Magicus, or to look lower, a Mouse­catcher in Philosophy.

Observ. 48.

Philalethes, say you, writ this book to re­venge his death. No, Now I think you men­tion his death, onely to bring this latine sen­tence into your Book. Et quis didicit scribere in lucta lacrymarum & Atramenti.

Observ. 49.

I excluded not thy censure but thy mercy. Thy words are, I expose it not to the mercy of man but of God. But it is no exposall or hard­ship at all to be exposed to mercy, therefore by mercy thou must needs understand cen­sure.

Page 86. line 2. You skud like a dogge by Nilus. Here your phansie is handsome and apposite to what you would expresse, but that which you would expresse is false. For I fear no Crocodile, but the fate of Esops dog who catching at the shadow lost the sub­stance. Because I more then suspect that there is nothing reall in those places I passed by, but onely tremulous shadows of an unsettled phansie.

Page 87. line 21. Did not I bid thee pro­ceed [Page 157] to the censure of each part? What is your meaning, Philalethes! That you would have me confute all, right or wrong? No, Phil, I have done as St George in his combate with the Dragon, thrust my spear under the Mon­sters wing, into the parts which are most weak or least scaly. What I have excepted against was with judgement and reason, and so good, that all that I have said hitherto, stands as strong and unshaken of thy weak reasonings and impotent raylings, as rocks of Adamant, and Pillars of Brasse at the shoot­ing off of a Childes Eldern-Gunne against them. Let's now see how like a man thou hast quit thy self in the ensuing Discourse.

Anima Magica Abscondita.

WEll, Eugenius, I have now perused this second part of thy Answer, which doth not answer at all in proportion to thy first. How lank! how little is it! Thou hast even wearyed thy self with scolding, and now thou art so good natured as to draw to an end. Faint, Phil, Faint? let me feel thy [Page 158] pulse. Assuredly it strikes a Myurus, which is a signe thou art languid at the heart. Or is thy Book troubled with the Cramp, and so hath its leggs twitch'd up to its breech? or hath it been on Procrustes his bed and had the lower parts of it cut off? Whatever the Cause is, the Effect is apparent; that thou art wringled up at the end like a Pigs tayl, and shriveled on heaps like a shred of parch­ment. How many sober passages of Mora­lity? How many weighty Arguments of Reason? How many Frolicks of wit hast thou slipt over and not so much as mention­ed, much lesse applyde any sutable answer? But I hope thou wilt make good use of them silently with thy self, and rectifie thy phansie hereafter by my judgement, though thou thinkest it as harsh, as standing on the Pres­bytercall stool: to give me publick thanks. In the mean time, Reader, be contented, that I, onely reply to what he hath thought good to oppose. But what he runs away from so cowardly, I will not run after him with it, nor be so cruel as to force him to abide.

Observ. 1.

Page 91. line 9. It is plain then, that the body and substance of the definition is contained in these few words, Principium motûs & quie­tis. Why, Magicus, because you make up he rest with thinking? Suppose thy Picture vere drawn to the waste, and thou thoughtest of the rest of thy body. Doth that picture therefore contain the full draught of thy bo­dy? Away, thou bird of Athens.

Observ. 2.

You tell me a form can not be known other­wise then by what it can do or operate. I told thee so Phil, and do tell thee so again. And thou onely denyest it, thou dost not disprove it; wherefore Phyllis is mine yet, and not the willow Garland, but the willow Rod is thine, for not learning this plain lesson any better all this while. For, (to speak to thy own sense and conceit of the soul, that it is an in­telligent Fire, or Light) thou canst not frame any notion of Intelligent, but from intelle­ctuall operations: nor of Light, but from what it operates upon thy sense, thy sight; [Page 160] which is a truth most evidently plain to any man that is not stark blind.

Page 92. line 5. You say Mastix, I have not considered the difference added in the definition of Nature. No, You had not when you ca­villed at the Genus, as angry at it, because it did not monopolize the whole office of the definition to it self and supply also the place of a Difference. Fond Cavil! But thou sup­posed'st, it seems, that I would never deigne to answer, so unclean an Adversary as thou hast shown thy self, and that thy Readers would never take the pains to see whether thou spoke true or false, and that hath made thee say any thing, and that with undaunted confidence and foulest insultations, that the simple might be sure to beleeve thee, without any more ado. Eugenius, enjoy thou the ap­plause of the simple.


But one wise man to me is as much as ten thousands of such, and infinite swarms of them, not so much as one. I am fully of He­raclitus his mind for that, Philalethes.

Observ. 3.

Here, Philalethes, you contemning Defini­tions made from the proper Operations of the things defined, I intimate to you, that you necessarily imply, that you look after the knowledge of a stark-naked substance, which is impossible ever to be had. What do you answer to this? Nothing. Let the Reader judge else.

Observ. 4.

Let any body compare thy Finihabia with the expositions of those terms [...] and [...], made by Julius Scaliger (for it is he that is more cunning at nonsense then the devil, not I) and he shall find that thou hast spent a page and an half here to no purpose, but onely to shew some few faint flashes of wit. For at last thou dost acknowledge the aptnesse and significancie of the words, but still complainest that there is no news of the substance of the soul in them. To which I answer again, A substance is a thing impossible to be known otherwise then by its proper operations, or peculiar relations to this or that, as I have [Page 162] often inculcated. But how do you take away this answer? Onely by making a wry mouth, and crying, Away! away! Have I not already demonstrated unto thee, that it is impossible to know substances themselves, but onely by their operations? Here he answers again, that that cannot be; For then a Plow-man would be as wise as himself, and mother Bunch as his mother Oxenford. But to satisfie this inconvenience, (if it be any, to grant a Plow-man wiser then thou art) I say, Thou and thy mother may be wiser then a Plow­man in other things, though not in this; and in this, if your notion be more adequate and precise then his is, that is, If you are able, ac­cording to the Rules of Logick, to examine whether your assertion may go for an axi­ome, that is, [...], or [...], and are able to rest satisfied, by find­ing your selves to know according to the ca­pacity of the subject. But now, Phil. you in­deavour to go so far beyond the Plow-man, that you fall short of him, and reach at so high strains, that you have strain'd your self till you seem half crackt to the sober. For [Page 163] this truth, That a substance is not to be known, but by its proper operations, is a truth so clear, that it is clear that he is desti­tute of sight and judgement, that doth not discern it even at the first proposall.

Observ. 5, 6, 7.

What thou answerest to these 5th, 6th, & 7th Observations is nothing at all to the purpose, and therefore to no purpose at all to answer any thing to them, as I have already said in the like case, and I must leave something to the candour and judgement of the Reader.

Observ. 8.

Page 97. line 1. Mastix, you place the diffi­culty in the Rudiments or Sperms, because they are lax and fluid. No, Magicus, but I do not. For I think they are alwayes so, or else the Ratio Seminalis would have a hard task of it. But when thou saiest, that the Anima, in the Matter missing a vent, &c. the difficulty is how a thing so subtile as a soul is, should misse a vent in so lax matter as the first Rudiments of life. This is the difficulty, Magicus. But [Page 164] thou understandest not the force of any thing I propound to thee, thy apprehension is so out of tune with straining at high things no­thing to the purpose. But I perceive, though thou wouldst dissemble it, Magicus, that I have beat thee from the Bung-hole, and that rude expression borrowed thence. And now thou art as busie as a Moth about a candle, to fetch a Metaphor thence. For thou tellest us, that this union is like that betwixt the candle and the flame. This indeed for some Poetical illustration may do well: but what Pholoso­phicall satisfaction is there in it, Philalethes? For first, the flame is without the candle, not in it; but the soul within the body, not with­out it. Secondly, the flame is an effect of the candle, but the soul is not an effect of the bo­die, the body is not the pabulum thereof, and the very substance of which it is made, by superinducing a new modification. Thirdly, and lastly, the soul is still the same individuall soul; but the flame is no more the same flame, then the water betwixt such and such banks of the river, is still the same wa­ter. If thou hadst put thy finger into thy [Page 165] nose, and said, Lo the mystery of the union of the soul and body: it had been as much Philosophicall satisfaction as this, from the union of flame and candle. Thou pitifull puzled thing! thou art not yet able to weigh what thou saiest. And now I have drove thee from the flame of the candle, thou hast scud­ded away quite into the dark, flown to I know not what strange obscure expressions, a story of old grand-dame Nature, with a set Ruff and a gold chain about her neck, which thou callest propinquity of Complexions, and I know not what. I prethee how much doth this differ from Sympathy and Antipathy, which all knowing men call Asylum ignoran­tiae: and now I have drove thee thither, I will leave thee in that Sanctuary of fools. What I have said, I have already made good, that the souls union with the body is more Theo­magicall then Magicus himself is aware of.

Observ. 9.

Page 98. line 19. Both which he makes to be one and the same thing. All that I say there is, that those verses are understood of the [Page 166] vehicle of the soul, not of the soul it self; and it is Theupolus his opinion as well as mine, who cites those verses of Virgil, and gives that sense of them; to wit, that the two­fold vehicle of the soul is there meant, the Ethereall and Spirituous, not the soul it self, Academic. Contemplat. lib. 4. So that Virgil doth not at all patronize thy grosse conceit of making the soul consist of fire and aire.

Page 99. line 10. I grant the soul to be a bodily substance that hath dimensions too. Why Phil? Is there any bodily substances without dimensions? I could very willingly grant thee a mere body without a soul, thou hast so little reason and sense in thee; or if thou hast a soul, that it is a corporeall one, and it may well be so: but my question is meant of souls that have Sense and Reason in them, whe­ther they be corporeall substances or no? Yes, say you, they are. They are intelligent Fire and Light. I say, Phil. thou art all fire, but no light, nor intelligent at all. Thou art the hottest fellow that ever I met with in all my dayes, as hot as a Taylours Goose when it hisseth, and yet as dark. But let's endea­vour [Page 167] (if it be possible) to vitrifie thy opake carcase, and transmit a little light into thee. Doest thou know then what fire is? how it is a very fluid body, whose particles rest not one by another, but fridge one against ano­ther, being very swiftly and variously agita­ted. In this condition is the matter of fire. But now I demand of thee; Is there any sub­stance in this fire thou speakest of, (for thou sayest it is really fire, and usest no Metaphor) which we may call the essentiall Form there­of, or no? If there be, I ask thee whether that Form be Intelligent, or no? If it be, then that is the soul, and this subtile agitated matter is but the vehicle. But if thou wilt say, that the subtile fiery matter it self is the Intelligent Soul, see what inconveniencies thou intanglest thy self in. For fire being as homogeneall a body as water is, and having all the parts much what alike agitated; how can this fire do those offices that commonly are attribu­ted to the soul? First, how can it organize the body into so wise a structure and con­trivement, the parts of this fire tending as much this way as that way or at least tending [Page 168] onely one way, suppose upward. Secondly, how can it inform the whole body of an Embryo in the wombe, and of a grown man? For if it was but big enough for the first, it will be too little for the latter; unlesse you sup­pose it to grow, and to be nourished. But thus, you will not have the same Individuall Soul you was Christened with, and must be forced to turn not onely Independent, but A­nabaptist, that your new soul may be bapti­zed: for it is not now the same that you was Christened with before. For I say, that ten spoonfulls of water added to one, should ra­ther individuate the whole, then that one of that whole number should individuate the ten. Thirdly, how can it move it self, or the body in a spontaneous way? For all the par­ticles of this fiery matter wriggling and playing on their own centers, or joyntly endeavouring to tend upwards, makes no­thing to a spontaneous motion, no more then the Atomes of dust that are seen playing in the Sunne beams, striking through a chink of a wall into a dark room, can conspire into one spontaneous motion, and go which way they please.

Wherefore I say, there ought to be some su­perintendent Form that takes hold of all these fiery particles and commands them as one body, and guides them this way or that way, and must be the [...] of this fiery sub­stance, that is, There must be such an essence in this fiery matter (and that is noted by the preposition [...]) as doth [...] and [...] that doth hold together, that doth drive this way or that way, according to its nature or will, and yet thus driving doth keep possession of this fiery Matter; and what is this but a Soul? not the indument, the smock or pet­ticote of the Soul as thou call'st it. Eugenius, thou art old excellent at finding out naked essences, it seems, that takest the garment for the body. Thou art so young that thou canst not distinguish betwixt a living barn, and a baby made of clouts. But this is not all that I have to say Phil. Fourthly, I say that this fire cannot be the Soul, because fire is devoid of sense. I but you say you under­stand an Intelligent fire. Learnedly answer­ed, and to as much purpose as if you should say, that a Soul is a Post or a Pillar, and then [Page 170] you should distinguish and tell me, you meant an Intelligent Post or Pillar, but I say fire hath no more sense then a Post or Pillar has reason. For if it have sense, it must have that which the Schools call Sensus communis. And now tell me Phil, to which of all the playing particles of this Ignis fatuus of thine thou wilt appoint the office of the Sensus Commu­nis, or why to any one more then to the rest? But if thou appoint all, there will be as many severall sensations, as there are particles. In­deed so many distinct living things. And thou wilt become more numerous within, then the possessed in the Gospel, whose name was Legion, because they were many. But if thou wilt pitch upon any one particle above the rest, tell me where it is? In the middle or at the out-side of this fire? I will interpret thee the most favourably, and answer for thee; In the middle. But I demand of thee, Why shall this in the middle have the privi­ledge of being the Sensus Communis rather then any other, or how will it be able to keep it self in the middle in so fluid a body? And if it were kept there, what priviledge hath it [Page 171] but what the most of the rest have, as well as it, to make it fit for the office of a Sensus Com­munis? For it must be, either because it is otherwise moved on its Center, then the other are on theirs, which you can not prove either to be, or if it were, to be to any pur­pose: Or it must be, because it hath some ad­vantage in consideration of the joynt motion of the particles. Let the joynt motion there­fore of the particles be either rectilinear or circular. If rectilinear, as suppose in a square, let the processe of motion be from side to side parallel. Hath not then any particle in a right line that is drawn through the center of this Square figure, parallel to two of the sides, equall advantage for this office (the transmission of outward sense being perpen­dicular to the said right line) that the middle particle hath? For thus it can receive but what comes in one line, transmission of sense being parallel as is supposed. Nay, the points of any other inward line parallel to this, will do as well as the points of this middle line, which is as plainly true, as two and two is four, if thou understandest sense when it is [Page 172] propounded to thee. Well, but it may be you may think you can mend your self by sup­posing the joynt motion of this fiery matter to be circular. I say no. For then that of this motion, that respects externall objects is from the Center to the Circumference, as it is plain in that ordinary experiment of a Sling. And thus motion is from the middle particle not towards it. But you should say here, if you could answer so wisely, that motion bearing forward from this center toward the object, that reciprocally the object will bear against it; and so there will be a transmission of sense to the center round about from all the circumferentiall parts of this fiery Orb which thou calledst the naked soul. But I say, Magicus, if the middle point of this Orb get the place of the Sensus Communis, because there is a common transmission of motion from sensible Objects thereunto: I say then that there be more Sensus Communes in this Orb then One, because such transmissions as are not perpendicular to this Orb, will meet in severall points distant from the middle point or center of this Orb, and there are [Page 173] enough such externall transmissions as these. I might adde also, that the middle point or particle being though a minute one yet a bo­dy, and consequently divisible, that that will also bid fair for a multiplicity of Common Senses. But I will adde onely this, That I hope to see the day wherein thou wilt be so wise as to be able to confesse, that the Au­thour of Anthroposophia Theomagica, &c. was the most confident Ignaro that ever wet pa­per with ink. But before I leave this fourth argument, let me onely cast in one thing more which equally respects both Hypothe­ses, either of rectilinear or circular motion. And that's this. If any one particle of this fiery substance, be the Common sense, it must be also the principle of spontaneous motion to the whole substance. For we see plainly that that which hath the Animadversive fa­culty in man, or the office of Common sense, moves the whole man, or that the motion of him is directed, at the beck of this. But I prethee Phil, tell me if thou canst possibly imagine, that any one particle in this fiery substance should be able to impresse sponta­neous [Page 174] Motion upon the whole. I know thou canst not but think it impossible. Fifthly, If the soul be fire (fire being so fluid and un­steddy a substance) how can there be any me­mory in it? You remember that experssion in Catullus, whereby he would set forth sudden obliteration & forgetfulness of things, that it is like writing in the Water or in the Aire.

In vento aut rapidâ scribere oportet aquâ.

But what think you of fire then, will that consistency bear more durable characters? The perpetuall fridging and toying of the fiery particles doth forthwith cancell what­ever is impressed, and now there is neither Common sense nor Memory to be found in your fire, we may be secure there is no Reason to be found there. For the Discursive Faculty requires some [...], something fixt to tread upon as well as the Progressive. But in your fire all is aflote, nothing fixt. Sixthly and lastly, If the Soul of man be either fire or aire, or both, I do not see that it will prove immortall; but that its consistency will be dispersed and scattered like the clouds. It will not be able to conflict with the boistrous [Page 175] winds, or scape blowing out, or being lost in the thinne aire, as other flames are, it once be­ing uncased of the armature of the body. And these Vehicles which you will have to be the very Soul it self, they being so change­able and passive within the body, it will not be absurd with Lucretius to inferre that they will be utterly dissolved when they are with­out.

Haec igitur tantis ubi morbis, corpore in ipso
Factentur, miseris (que) modis distracta laborent
Cur eadem credis sine corpore, in aere aperto,
Cum validis ventis aetatem degere posse?

To this sense.

If in the body rack'd with tort'rous pain
And tost with dire disease they're wearied so;
This shelter lost, how can they then sustain
The strong assaults of stormy winds that blow?

I tell thee Phil, such a soul as thou fanciest would be no more able to withstand the winds then the dissipable clouds, nor to un­derstand any more sense then a soul of clouts, or thy own Soul doth.

But now I have so fully confuted thy [Page 176] grosse opinion of the Soul, it may be happi­ly expected that I would declare mine own. But Phil, I onely will declare so much, that I do not look on the Soul as a Peripateticall atome, but as on a spirituall substance, with­out corporeall dimensions, but not destitute of an immateriall amplitude of Essence, di­latable and contractible. But for further sa­tisfaction in this point, I referre to my Philo­sophicall Poems. And do professe that I have as distinct, determinate, and clear apprehen­sion of these things, and as wary and cohe­rent, as I have of any corporeall thing in the world. But Heat and Phantastry to suddled minds, are as good companions as Caution and Reason to the sober. But the durable­nesse of that satisfaction is uncertain, whereas solid Reason is lasting and immutable.

Observ. 10.

Page 101. line 6. But from a similitude and Symbole of Nature. You are indeed very good at similitudes Phil. as I have proved here­tofore out of your skill in Zoography. But this is another businesse. For here you professe [Page 177] to speak, of the symbolizing and sympathi­zing of things one with another in Nature, and so mutually moving to union, by a kind attractive power, according to that saying


Well be it so that there is a mutuall at­tractive power in things that symbolize one with another (for the attraction is mutuall as well as the similitude mutuall) What is this to take away what I have objected? No­thing. But I will shew you how you are hang'd in your own chain. For it is as plain, as one of the [...], that where two things of the same nature act, the greater is stronger, and the stronger prevails. Where­fore three portions of light should fetch up two, or five one; rather then one should fetch down three, or five, or two. This is the bare point of my reason which I covered with a double comparison. viz. from the greater number of the lincks of a Chain preponde­rating the lesse number, and from the greater portion of Earth prevailing over the lesse; as in that instance, when a clod taken from the earth and let go in the free aire, the earth [Page 178] commands it back to it self again, according to that conceit of Magnetisme. And here the argument was à pari, not à specie, and there may be a collation of parity even in contra­ries. And your ignorance of that Logicall Notion, hath inabled you to rayl so much, and speak so little to the purpose on this Ob­servation, as any Logician may very easily discern.

Observ. 13.

Page 103. line 14. Answer if thou darest to any one of these Questions. Assure thy self, Eugenius, I can give a very rationall answer to every one of them. But for thy sake I think fit to answer none of them. But what is in my Philosophicall Poems will salve them all.

I will now rather examine what force of Arguments you have to prove that that which orders Matter into shape and form, is Animadversive and Intelligent.

Your first Argument is; that if there were no Animadversion in the Ratio Seminalis, ( or call it what you will) that shapes the Matter into Form, the Agent would mistake in his work.

Secondly, That he would work he knew not what, nor wherefore, and that therefore all Generations would be blind Casualties.

Thirdly, There would not be that Me­thod, infallibility of Action nor proportion and Symmetry of parts in the work.

Fourthly and Lastly, That there would be no End nor Impulsive cause to make him to work.

To all these unsound Reasons, I have al­ready answered very solidly and truly. That the force of them reached no further then thus. That the Ratio Seminalis must at least proceed from something that is knowing, and be in some sense Rationall, but not have reason and animadversion in it self. And this is the opinion of Plotinus, Marsilius Fi­cinus, and all the Platonists that I have met with. [...] &c. Ennead. 2. lib. 3. To this sense. For the Ratio Seminalis acts in the Matter and that which acts thus naturally, neither understands nor sees, but hath onely a power to transform the [Page 180] Matter, not knowing any thing but making one­ly as it were a form or shape in the water. And Ficinus compares this Ratio Seminalis, to an Artifice cut off from the mind of the Arti­ficer and made self-subsistent, and able to work upon prepared matter, but without knowledge, as being disjoyned from all ani­madversive essence. This is the right notion of the [...]. And this fully takes away the force of all your Arguments. For these being divine art imbodied in Nature and Matter, and working naturally, they will

First, Mistake no more, then a Stone will in its journey downwards, or the Fire in its course upward; which go alwayes right, if no externall obstacle hinder them. And these will work right if the Matter be duly pre­pared.

Secondly, Though they work they know not what, yet they work right in virtue of that cause from whence they came, the divine Intellect: and their operation is no more ca­suall then the ascent of Fire, and descent of Earth; for it is naturall.

Thirdly, This third falls in with the se­cond, [Page 181] and the same answer will serve both.

Fourthly, There is an Impulsive cause and End of their working, though unkown to them, yet not unknown to the Authour of them. As in the orderly motion of a Watch, the Spring knows not the end of its Motion, but the Artificer doth. Yet the watch moves, and orderly too, and to a good End. But this fourth falls in also with the second or first. And you see now that they are indeed all fallen to nothing at all. So easily is Confi­dence overcome when unbacked with solid Reason.

Observ. 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19.

Page 107. line 5. Did ever man scribble such ridiculous impertinencies? Never any man before Eugenius Philalethes. But why will you scribble such stuff, Phil. that will put you to the pains of reproaching of it when you have done? My exception against your definition of the first principle of your Cla­vis was as solid as merry. For, One in one, and One from one, is no definition of any one thing in the world. For definitio, or [...] is [Page 182] a bounding and limiting what you define. But here is no bounds nor limits at all. For every thing that is, is One in one, and One from one, viz. in one world and from one God. And then in your other attempt this way, to definc it, A pure white Virgin walking in shades and Tiffanies, is a meer foolery in Phi­losophy, and teacheth nothing but that your phansie is very feminine. Now in answer to all this, you contrive two ridiculous paralo­gismes, and then laugh at them when you have done.

Page 108. line 8. Made their God Jupiter an Adulterer. And you Eugenius, bestow a wife on the God of Israel, and make her after an Adulteresse, and then call me blasphemous for deriding your folly.

Page 109. line 14. Which thou dost blasphe­mously call pitifull services. Yes Philalethes, And I ought to call them so, in comparison of that high good that is intended to us by Scripture. They are pitifull things indeed in comparison of that. And thou art a pitifull fellow to make an Independent of, that hast no more wit nor Christianity in thee then to [Page 183] call this blasphemy. But a man may easily discern how religious thou art, though by Moon-light, at the latter end of the 110 page, where thou dost display thine own Im­modesty, by talking of displaying of Petti­cotes.

Observ. 20.

Line 5. The Starres could not receive any light from the Sunne. Now you shew how wise you are, in straining at so high a Philoso­phicall notion. I tell thee, Phil. the Stars can­not receive any light from the Sun, no more then this earth can from one single starre. For the sunne to our sight at the distance he is from the fixed starres, would seem no bigger then they, if so big. For according to the computation of Astronomers, the starres of the first magnitude are really farre bigger then the sunne: yet you see how little light they impart to the earth, and how very small they appear to us. And yet the lively vibration of their light shews plainly that it is theit own, not borrowed. So that it is plain, that if the Sun and Stars be Man and Wife, [Page 184] this immense distance makes them live in a perpetuall divorce.

Observ. 22.

Line 17. Now at last Reader, he perceives his errour: Therefore there needed none of your Correction. And I wish you could of your self perceive yours too, that you may need none of mine. But I perceive by what follows here, thou dost not know my mean­ing by Spiritus Medicus. Which I pardon in thee, thou dost so seldome understand thy own.

Observ. 27.

Line 12. Otherwise grasse could not grow on the banks of it all the yeare long. I said the fringes of Reeds and Flags, and those gayer ornaments of herbs and flowers, could not grow all the yeare long on the banks of Yska, if it were a river in Great Britain or Ireland. What is now become of thy faint Ha ha he?

Line 14. He thinks Yska runnes to heaven. Do I so, Phil? why then I gave thee friendly counsell when I bid thee fling thy self into its [Page 185] stream. For then thou wouldst with ease have gone along with the stream to heaven, when others are fain to row hard against the stream, & scarce arive thither when they have done all they can. I knew thy meaning by thy mumping, Phil. but thou expressedst it so disadvantageously, that thou gavest me good occasion to be merry with thee. But thou hast no mirth nor urbanity at all in thee, but wrath and foul language, which without any heed or discretion thou flingest upon every one that comes in thy way. And here in this 114 page, thou bidst fair for the calling of that noble Philosopher Des-Cartes, knave, as neretofore thou didst call him fool. What Wit, Civility, or Judgement is there in this Philalethes? Thou art resolved to be record­ed to posterity the most immorrall and igno­rant man that ever appeared yet in publick. But thou hast as much confuted his Philoso­phy, by saying it is a Whim and a Wham, as thou hast solidly answered thy Observatour. I have made it apparent, that thou hast not spoke sense scarce to any one thing I objected against thee. But hast discovered thy grosse [Page 186] ignorance in Logick and Philosophy so far, that I professe I did not suspect thou hadst been any thing neare so weak as I have found thee: but I willingly leave the censure of it to the Judicious. I will onely speak thus much in favour to thee and for thy excuse, that the strength of thy passion may very well have more then ordinarily weakened thy reason.

Now for that Ingenuous young Gentle­man, rhe smartnesse of whose Poetry hath so wrung thee, and vext thy guts, that it hath brought upon thee the Passio Iliaca, and made thee so foul mouthed, I will only say so much, Phil. and speak within compasse, that he hath more wit and Philosophy in one hair of his head, then thou hast in thy whole noddle. And that his verse was not obedient to my prose; but the Muses were very obsequious to his wit and humour of representing thee such as thou art. And in this onely he was no Po­et, in that he doth not write Fictions as thou doest in prose. But it seems he hath so paid thee home, that the sense of my gentle strokes are struck out by his quicker lash. For thou sayest I am a good harmlesse sneaking Ob­servatour, [Page 187] thy Alaz. that is, thy thou knowst not what, but no Mastix by no means, but onely one that gave thee a flap with a fox­tail. Verily, thou sayest true, I did not in­tend to hurt thee, and thou makest me so weak as if I were not able. Why doest thou raise then so mighty Tropheyes upon the vi­ctory of so harmlesse and unable an enemie? For as inconsiderable as I am, to make him­self considerable to the world, he makes a Colosse, a Gyant, a Monster of nine acres long of me. But how can this consist with thy putting me up into a little box. Parturi­unt montes — or rather, Dehiscunt montes, tandem intrat ridiculus mus. The Colosse fals, the Mountains gape, and at length enters in the merry Mouse. An excellent jest my Ma­sters? But why into a box with wire grates, rather then into an iron cage, as Tamberlain us'd Bajazeth, and so carried him up and down in triumph? I wonder thou didst not take this jest by the Turkish Mustachoes, ra­ther then that. But this it is, to have a wit no larger then a Mouse-catchers; or a phansie heav'd up no higher then the pinacles of Ox­enford. [Page 188] Thou wilt in time, Phil. make a fel­low of a fit size to shew the Lions and Rat­toon at the Tower; and I suppose thou fawn­est upon the Independents so as thou doest, to get their good will for the next reversion of that office. But enough, my Philalethes, of levity & folly. I will not abuse my liberty to excesse, onely let me in some way answer the expectation of those that may happily expect my censure of thy Magia Adamica. But I shall not so much answer it, as frustrate it: for I professe, I take no pleasure in the censuring of any mans writings; I can imploy my self better. I was in a very merry frolick when I ventur'd upon this; yet the Judicious may dis­cern that there was sobriety enough at the bottome of all that mirth. But as for this Magia Adamica, I confesse I have not read it; but I do favourably conjecture, that the Au­thour thereof is as well skilled in those books of Magick that Adam read by the fire-side in winter nights, while Eve held to him the can­dle, as any young man is in these European parts. I let Adamicus alone, my businesse is onely with Anthroposophus, over whom [Page 189] now I having so full a victory, it will be ex­pected, perhaps, that I lead him about in tri­umph. But I must answer my friends in Christian sobernesse, that I am the right Phi­lalethes, a lover of truth more then a lover of victory, and of victory more then of tri­umph;

— sat is est prostrâsse leoni.

Onely I will say, not of his Person, but of that Dispensation and Genius in which he is in for the present; Lo, there lies the contagious spectrum of Ephesus, which I have discovered to be the pest of rhe Common-wealth of learning, and of humane and divine reason, as much as that demoniacall imposture was the walking plague of that famous city: and now he hath been pelted a little with hard lan­guage, as Apollonius commanded the Ephesi­ans to stone that hypocriticall old Mendicant with stones, he appears in the very same shape with him at the uncovering of the heap, that is, an uggly huge black Mastife sprawling for life, and foaming forth abundance of filthy stinking scum, after the manner of mad dogs. And thus have I approv'd my self wise as [Page 190] Apollonius, in discovering imposture; and va­liant as Hercules, who over-mastered that [...], as Dionysius calls it, that bra­zen-barking Cerberus.

And now, O men of Ephesus! I mean all you that reap the fruit of this noble exploit of mine, rear me up my deserved Trophey, and inscribe this Tetrastich upon it, for an everlasting monument of your gratitude to me, and love to the truth:

Religious Heat as yet unpurged quite
From fleshly sense and self, when't makes a stir
About high Myst'ries above Reasons light,
Is at the bottome but a rabid curre.

But that I may conceal nothing from you, O men of Ephesus, I must tell you, that whe­ther you rear up this monument, or whether you forbear, all is one. For the truth of these verses is already written in the corner stones of the Universe, and engraven on the lasting pillars of Eternity. Heaven and earth may passe away, but not one tittle of this truth shall passe away. High and windy Notions do but blow up and kindle more fiercely the fire of Hell in the hearts of men. From [Page 191] whence is Pride, and Contention, and bitter Zeal. This is the pest and plague of Man­kind, and the succeeding torture of the sons of Adam. For while the mind of man catch­eth at high things, of which she is uncapable till she be refined and purged, she doth but fire the frame of her little world by her over­busie Motion, which burning in grosse fewel, fills all with smoke. And thus the soul is even smothered and stifled in her narrow mansion. Her first enlargement here must therefore be, by Temperance and Abstemiousnesse: For without this breathing-hole for fresh aire, de­votion it self will choak her still more and more, heating her thick and polluted spirits in such sort, that they cannot be sufficiently rectified by the power of the brain. But in this Dispensation especially is lodged a strong voice, weak sense, and a rude contempt of any thing that will trouble the head, as Rea­son, Philosophy, or any but ordinary subtilty in learning. But they love Christ very hear­tily after their grosse way, as their Protectour and Securer from what outward evil natu­rally attends so bad an inward condition. But [Page 192] being so immersed in brutish sense, and yet with conscience of sinne; if any body have but the trick to perswade them that sinne is but a name, he will be a very welcome A­postle to them, and they will find more ease to their beastly nature, in phansying nothing to be sinne, then they did in making their Hy­pocriticall addresses to an offended Saviour. And then (poore souls) through the foulnesse of the flesh, are they easily inveigled into A­theisme it self. In so great danger are we of the most mischievous miscarriages, by con­temning of those known and confessed ver­tues of Temperance, Continence, and Cha­stity.

But we'le suppose Men in a great measure temperate; yet how farre off are they still from reall happinesse in themselves, or from not disturbing the happinesse of others, so long as Envy, Ambition, Covetousnesse, and Self-respect doth still lodge in them? Here indeed Reason may happily get a little more elbow-room; but it will be but to be Patron to those vices, and to make good by Argu­ment harsh opinions of God, and perempto­rily [Page 193] to conclude the power of Christ weaker then the force of sinne. And the Phansie in these something more refined Spirits, will be more easily figurable into various conceits, but very little to the purpose. Of which some must go for sober Truths, and those that are more fully shining, in the midst of a shadowy Melancholiz'd imagination, must bid fair for Divine Inspiration, though neither Miracle nor Reason countenance them. But you, O men of Ephesus! if any one tell you strange devises, and forbid you the use of your Rea­son, or the demanding of a Miracle, you will be so wise as to look upon him as one that would bid you wink with your eyes, that he might the more easily give you a box of the Eare, or put his hand into your Pockets.

Now out of this second Dispensation, in­numerable swarms of Sects rise in all the world. For Falsehood and Imagination is infinite; but Truth is one. And the benignitie of the Divine Spirit, having no harbour in all this varietie of religious Pageantry; Envy, Covetousnesse, and Ambition must needs make them bustle, and tear all the world in [Page 194] pieces, if the hand of Providence did not hold them in some limits:

Quin laniant mundum; tanta est discordia fratrum:

as he saith of the winds. In this Dispensation lodgeth Anger and active Zeal concerning Opinions and Ceremonies, Uncertainty and Anxietie touching the purposes of God, and a rigid injudicious Austerity, of which little comes but the frighting men off from Reli­gion: which notwithstanding if it be had in the truth thereof, is the most chearfull and lovely thing in the world. These men having not reached to the Second Covenant, will al­so thank any body that could release them from the First. For whereas true Religi­on is the great joy and delight of them that attain to it, theirs is but their burden. And so it is not impossible that these may be also wound off to the depth of wickednesse, and sink also in time even to Atheisme it self. For what is reall in them will work, but what is imaginary will prove it self ineffectuall. Wherefore, is it not farre better for men to busie all their strength in destroying those [Page 195] things which are so evidently destructive of humane felicity, then to edge their spirits with fiery notions and strange Phantasmes, which pretend indeed to the semblance of deep mysterious knowledge, and divine spe­culation; but do nothing hinder but that the black dog may be at the bottome, as I said before?

But you will ask me, How shall we be rid of the Importunity of the impostures and fooleries of this second Dispensation. But I demand of you, Is there any way imagina­ble but this? viz. To adhere to those things that are uncontrovertedly good and true, and to bestow all that zeal, and all that heat, and all that pains for the acquiring of the simpli­city of the life of God, that we do in pro­moting our own Interest, or needlesse and doubtfull Opinions. And I think it is with­out controversie true to any that are not de­generate below men, that Temperance is bet­ter then Intemperance, Justice then Injustice, Humility then Pride, Love then Hatred, and Mercifulnesse then Crueltie. It is also uncon­trovertedly true, that God loves his own I­mage, [Page 196] and that the propagation of it is the most true dispreading of his glory, as the Light which is the Image of the Sunne, is the glory of the Sunne. Wherefore it is as plainly true, that God is as well willing, as able to restore this Image in men, that his glory may shine in the world. This there­fore is the true Faith, to beleeve that by the power of God in Christ, we may reach to the participation of the Divine Nature. Which is a simple, mild, benigne light, that seeks nothing for it self, as it self; but doth tenderly and cordially endeavour the good of All, and rejoyceth in the good of All, and will assuredly meet them that keep close to what they plainly in their consciences are convinced is the leading to it. And I say, that sober Morality, conscienciously kept to, is like the morning light reflected from the higher clouds, and a certain Prodrome of the Sunne of Righteousnesse it self. But when he is risen above the Horizon the same vertues then stream immediately from his visible body, and they are the very members of Christ according to the Spirit. And he [Page 197] that is come hither, is a pillar in the Temple of God for ever and ever; for he hath reach­ed to the Second Covenant, which he can in no more likelihood break, then lay violent hands on himself to the taking away of his naturall life. Nay, that will be farre more easie then this. For a man may kill himself in a trice, but he cannot extinguish this Di­vine life without long and miserable torture. If this be to be a Puritane, Eugenius, I am a Puritane. But I must tell thee, that by how much more a man precisely takes this way, the more Independent he will prove. And the pure simplicity of the life of God revealed in Jesus Christ, will shine with so amiable a lustre in his inward mind, that all the most valuable Opinions that are controverted a­mongst Churches and Sects, will seem no more comely then a fools coat, compared with the uniform Splendour of the Sunne. But if thou meanest by either Puritane or In­dependent, one in the second Dispensation, I should dissemble in the presence of Heaven, if I should not say I am above them; as I am above all Sects whatsoever as Sects. For I [Page 198] am a true and free Christian; and what I write and speak is for the Interest of Christ, and in the behalf of the life of the Lamb which is contemned. And his Interest is the Interest of the sonnes of men; for he hath no Interest but their good and welfare. But be­cause they will not have him to rule, the Na­tions of the world (by a Divine Nemesis) are given up into the hands of Wolves, Foxes, and Lions: The earth is full of darknesse and cruell habitations. Wherefore, Eugenius, thou doest very unskilfully, in endeavouring to tumble me off from the Independents, to cast me amongst the Puritanes, as thou callest them. For it is not in thy power to cast me so low as any Sect whatsoever; God hath placed me in a Dispensation above them, and wilt thou throw me down? No, Eugenius, I shine upon them both as the Sunne in the Fir­mament, who doth not wink on one side, or with-draw his Rayes, but looks openly upon all, imparting warmth and light. Thou hast encountred with a Colosse indeed (though thou callest me so but in sport and scorn) far bigger then that stradling Statue at Rhodes, [Page 199] and that reacheth far higher. And yet no Statue neither, but one that will speak what nothing but Ignorance and Hypocrisie can denie. Wherefore with my feet lightly stand­ing on the shoulders of all the Sects of the earth (for I would not tread hard like a statue to hurt them) & with my head stooping down out of the Clouds, I will venture to trie the world with this sober question. Tell me therefore, O all ye Nations, People, & Kind­reds of the earth, what is the reason that the world is such a stage of misery to the Sonnes of Men? Is it not from hence, that that which should be their great Guidance, their Religion and highest Light of their minds, is but Heat and squabbling about subtile un­certain points, and foolish affectation of high mysteries, while the uncontroverted sober truths of Vertue and Piety are neglected, and the simplicity of the life of God despised, as a most contemptible thing. And I had no sooner uttered these words in my mind, but me thought I heard an Answer from all the Quarters of the earth, from East, West, North and South, like the noise of many [Page 200] waters, or the voice of Thunder, saying, Amen. Halelujah. This is true.

Nor is this any vain Enthusiasme, Phila­lethes, but the triumph of the Divine Light in my Rationall Spirit, striking out to my ex­teriour faculties, my Imagination and Sense. For my head was so filled with the noise, that it felt to me as bound and straitened, as being not able to contain it, and coldnesse & trem­bling seised upon my flesh. But you will say, All this is but a triviall truth that you are so zealous and triumphant in. But verily, Eu­genius, is it not better to be zealous about those things that are plainly true, then those that are either uncertain of false? 'Tis true, what I have said to thy soaring soul may seem contemptible. But if thou once hadst the sight of that Principle from whence it came, thou wouldst be suddenly ashamed of that patched clothing of thy soul, stitch'd up of so many unsutable and heedlesse figurati­ons of thy unpurged phansie, and wouldst endeavour to put on that simple uniform light.

And now, Eugenius, that I find my self in [Page 201] an advantageous temper to converse with thee, come a little nearer me, or rather I will come a little nearer to thee. Hitherto I have play'd the part of a personated Enemy with thee, give me leave now to do the office of an open Friend. I perceive there is in you, as you have made it manifest to all the world, an eager desire after Knowledge, and as insa­tiable thirst after Fame. Both which are to be reputed farre above that dull and earthly pronenesse of the mind of some men, whose thoughts are bent upon little else but the bed and the board. But I tell thee, that this de­sire of thine being kindled so high in thy me­lancholy complexion, there arise these three inconvenieuces from this inordinate heat.

First, thy spirits are so agitated, that thou canst not soberly and cautiously consider the Objects of thy mind, to see what is truly con­sequent, what not; and so thy reason goes much to wrack.

Secondly, thy melancholy being so high­ly heated, it makes thee think confidently thou hast a Phantasme or Idea of a thing be­longing to this or that word, when thou hast [Page 202] not, which is a kind of inward Phrensie and answers to the seeing of outward apparitions when there is nothing before the sight. Thus art thou defeated in thy designe of know­ledge, in divine and naturall things by this distemper.

But thirdly, the same untamed heat cau­seth Boldnesse, Confidence and Pride. And hence ariseth thy Imprudence. For I tell thee, Eugenius, there is no such imprudent thing in the world as Pride. Wot'st thou not what the humour of all men is; how they think them­selves no inconsiderable things in the world? You know the story in Herodotus, how when the Greeks had overcome the Persians and after it was debated amongst them, to whom the [...] belonged, who should have the honour of being reputed most valiant in that service, every one did acknowledge that next to himself Themistocles did best. Wherefore it is plain that he that will not let any man go before him provokes all men. Here there­fore was thy imprudence, Eugenius, that thou wouldst take the [...] to thy self without so much as any debate or asking leave, when [Page 203] every Galenist, Aristotelian, Cartesian, and Theosophist, thinks it belongs to him as much as to thee. Thus hast thou provoked all men against thee, and made ship-wrack of thy fame, as well as fallen short of Learning. But you'le say, why? what would you have me to have done as some others do, who though they be proud, yet put on a hand­some dresse of Modesty and squeamish Hu­mility? That I tell thee had been indeed something more like Prudence, which thy raised heat could not stoop to, but I must con­fesse it had been but a kind of Morall Sneak­ing. For as the bending down of the upper parts of the body, so that the talnesse of the stature thereof is concealed, is the Sneaking of the body: so to make a mans self more hum­ble then he is, or lesse high-minded, is the Sneaking of the soul. But the first point of wisdome is to be really humble indeed. For, an humble mind is as still as the night, and as clear as the noon-day. So that it is able with­out any impatiency or prejudice to discern all things, and rightly to judge of all things. This Christian temper is so sober, and wise, [Page 204] that no Imposture can surprize it, nor ever will it hurt it felf by rashnesse and impru­dency. This is the heir of God, the treasury of all humane divine & naturall knowledge, and the delight and praise of men where ever it appears. But the inseparable companions of haughtinesse, are Ignorance, Shame, and Enmity. But beleeve it, Eugenius, as this di­vine Humility is of more worth, so is it of more labour then to find the Philosophers stone, or the famous medicine you talk of; I am certain of more consequence by ten thousand times. And methinks now at length through all those waves and rufflings of thy disordered mind, I see something at the bot­tome in thee, O Eugenius, that begins to as­sent to what I say, that begins to shine and smile, and look upon me as a very pleasant Apostle, sent (not without providence) to toy and sport thee into a more sober temper, and advertise thee of the highest good that the soul of man is capable of; and thou wilt I am confident very suddenly say, and that from thy heart, that better are the wounds of a friend, then the kisses of an enemy. Or if [Page 205] thou canst not yet phansie him a friend that hath worn the vizard of a foe so long, yet I do not mistrust but that thou wilt be so wise, as, according to Xenophons Principle, not onely, not to be hurt, but also to be profited by thine enemy.

An enemy indeed is not a thing to be em­bosomed and embraced, as the Satyr would have done the fire when he first saw it, and therefore was forewarned by Prometheus to abstain,


But in the mean time, that which it would pain or consume may by observing the right laws of using it, receive kindly warmth and vigour from it, and work excellent things in virtue of its heat or light.

Did not Telephus heal his wound by his enemies spear? And had not Jason his im­postume cured by that weapon that was meant for his deadly dispatch? You know also the story of Hiero, Eugenius, who when his enemy had upbraided him with his stink­ing breath, chid his wife when he came home, [Page 206] because she never had discovered it to him all that time of their living together. But she being very honest and simple, told her hus­band that she thought all mens breaths smelt so. You see then how much more easie it is, to hear what is true concerning us, of our professed Adversaries, then of our bosome Friends.

But methinks I hear thee answer, that nei­ther a bosome Friend nor an embittered Ene­my can be competent judges of a mans vices or vertues. For the one would be too favour­able, and the other too severe. What then? wouldst thou have some Third thing, a mean betwixt both, (according to that known A­phorisme [...]) whom thou mightest hope would prove an impartiall judge? why, that's I, Phil. whom, I dare say thou art con­fident, to be no friend to thee; and I dare swear I am no enemy. And therefore why should I despair, but that my sitnesse and skill may prove as successefull in allaying of Eu­genius his tumour, as that unskilfull hand was lucky in lancing Jasons impostume.

And being once cured, do not then repine, [Page 207] that there was a time wherein thou wast un­sound no more then Alexander the great, that he was once so little as to be lodged within the narrow compasse of his mothers wombe; Or Milo who at length could lift an ox, that he was once so weak that he could not stirre a lamb.

And what think'st thou Phil. of Plato, Em­pedocles, Democritus, Socrates, and other pro­found sages of the World, can you imagine that when they had arrived to that pitch of knowledge, that it was any shame or re­gret to them, that there was once a time when they knew not one letter of the Alpha­bet. Why then should my Eugenius be trou­bled, that he was once Childish, Ignorant, Proud and Passionate, when he is well cured of those distempers. We are what we are, and what is past is not, and therefore is not to afflict us. But he that is more anxious con­cerning Fame then Vertue, and seeks onely to seem a gallant and invincible thing to the world, when in the mean time his mind is very weak and vulnerable, I know my Euge­nius is so wise, that such a man as this, [Page 208] will seem as irrationall to him, as if one having by ill chance cut his shinne, he should be lesse solicitous about healing of his legge then mending of his stocken.


An Index of the generall heads and more remarkable passages in the fore­going Reply.

M Astix his Apologie for his smart Observations upon Eugenius his Anthroposophia Theomagica, &c.from page 9, to the 14.
That to laugh at the follies and defeatments of vain men, is lawfull in a Christian.p. 14, 15, 16
Eugenius his Title-page, The Man-mouse taken in a Trap, censured.p. 21, 22
Mastix his Answer to two perverse charges of high incivilities gathered out of his Observations.from p. 23. to p. 32
His Personall Reasons that moved him to write his Observati­ons.p. 35, 36
Of Platonisme, and of Mastix his Philosophicall Poems, his Song of the Soul, &c. from what Principle they were writ.p. 36. to p. 41
Of the Philosophy of Des-Cartes, how far above all other na­turall Philosophyes, and yet how short of that noble, divine, universalizing Spirit in Christianity and Platonisme.p. 41, 42, 43, 44
A zealous Invective against the Atheists of these times, where­in sundry causes of Atheisme are glanced at.p. 44. to 48
Mastix no Enthusiast but speaks according to the faculties of a man actuated by God.p. 48
A description of an heavenly Dispensation upon earth, farre above either Prophecie or Miracle.p. 39, 40. and 49, 50
Whether there be any Essentiall definitions of Substances, and in what sense.p. 57, 58, 59
Whether the Peripaleticks conceit God to have made the world, as a Carpenter makes houses of Stone and Timber.p. 59, 60, 61
Eugenius his vizard of high affected Sanctimony fallen off, all the people laugh at him.p. 63, 64
The ridiculous Analogies Eugenius makes between his World­Animal, and an ordinary Animal.p. 65, 66
The flesh of his World-animal confuted.p. 66, 67
The pulse of his World-animal confuted.p. 67, 68
Of Rarefaction and Condensation, and of the miraculous multiplication of the Superficies of bodie.p. 70, 71, 72
The Respiration of his World animal confuted.p. 72, 73, 74
That a Pair of Bellows is an Animal, according to Eugenius his Zoography.p. 75, 76
The vitall moysture of his World-animal confuted.p. 77, 78
The Animal Spirits of it confuted.p. 78, 79
The causes of the Flux and Reflux of the Sea, and that it can­not be the Pulse of his World-animal.p. 81, 82, 83
Mastix his Philosophicall Poems censured and defended.p. 85, 86, 87
Reminiscency no Argument for the Preexistencie of the Soul,p. 88, 89, 90
A large Demonstration that that Matter which Eugenius as­firms he hath often seen and felt, is not the first Matter of all things.from p. 91. to p. 97
His Assertion that Aristotles first Matter is in Nature neither [...] nor [...], confuted.p. 101, 102
Eugenius his Ridiculous division of an Idea into one part.p. 104
A supply made to this hopping distribution, out of Philo the few.p. 105, 106
That Eugenius doth so surround the Masse with his [...]mpyreall substance that there could be no Morning nor Evening as Moses text requiresp. 107
That the Scripture speaks according to outward sense and vul­gar apprehension, proved by sundry passages of Scripture, and Testimonies of learned Men.from p. 109, to 113
That the Extent of the world according to Moses David &c. is but to the Clouds or thereabout, very fully and largely de­monstrated, and so consequently that there is no room for Eugenius his interstellar waters in Moses his Text, unlesse [Page] he will make them all one with the Clouds or Vapours that be coagulated into Rain.from p. 113, to p. 120
Eugenius his grosse Mistake concerning Orbs and Epicycles, venting three absurdities in one Assertion.p. 121, 122, 123, 124
In what sense Mastix said in his Observations, that Epicycles were too big to be truep. 125
That Rarefaction and Condensation according to the Schools implies a Contradictionp. 128
What a miserable layer of fundamentalls of Sciences Eugenius is. And in particular of his Magnetp. 129, 130
S. Johns new Heaven and new Earth how Mastix would in­terpret it, and how Magicus.p. 132, 133
Aristotle taxed of Sodomy.p. 134, 135
His Hymne in honour of Hermias, and his doing the same Rites unto his whore when he had married her, that the A­thenians did to their Goddesse, Ceres Eleusiniap. 135, 136
The naturall shame in men of obscene matters notoriously dis­covered in the story of Osiris and Typhon; and that this shame is a signe that there is a certain conscience or presage in the soul of man, that a better condition belongs to her then this in the body.p. 137, 138
That the soul of man is not propagated as light from light.p. 140, 141, 142
That Eugenius doth plainly assert that blind men see in their sleep.p. 143
That there is not a Sensitive Spirit distinct from the rationall soul in a man.p. 144, 145, 146, 147
How long Mastix was making his Observations upon Euge­nius his Magicall Treatises.p. 149, 150
Eugenius so unlucky in his Poeticall Encomiums of Oxford, that whereas he intends to praise, he seems to abuse that learned and well-deserving Universitie.p. 153, 154
That the very substance of a thing cannot be knownp. 161, 162, 163.
The union betwixt the flame and the candle, not at all to set [Page] out the Union of the soul and body, to any Philosophicall satisfaction.p. 164, 165
That the soul is not Intelligent fire, proved by sundry Argu­ments.p. 166, 167, &c.
From her Organization of the bodyp. 167
From her Information.p. 168
From Spontaneous Motion.p. 168
From Sensation.p. 169, to 174
From Memory.p. 174
From the Souls Immortality acknowledged by Eugenius.p. 174, 175
The bare point of Mastix his argument against Magicus his mysterious chain of light, more plainly discovered.p. 177, 178
Eugenius his foure arguments to prove that the Seminal Forms of things are understanding Agents, propounded and con­futed.from page 178, to 181
What a Ritio Seminalis, or Seminall Form is according to Plotinus and the Platonists.p. 179, 180
Mastix his exception against Eugenius his definition of the first Principle of his Clavis magica proved to be as solid as merry.p. 181, 182
Whether the Starres receive any light from the Sun.p. 183
Mastix his friend [...]. T. vindicated.p. 186
His favourable conjecture of the Authour of Magia Ada mica.p. 188
His power of discovering Impostures parallel'd with Apolioni­us. us.p, 189
His Victory, Trophey, and Inscription.p. 190
His Oration to the Men of Ephesus.p. 190, 191, &c.
A description of a threefold Dispensation under which Chri­stians are.from p. 191, to 197
The first Dispensation.p. 191, 192
The second Dispensation.from p. 192, to 195
What is the way to be delivered from the Impostures and Foo­leries of the second Dispensationp. 195, 196
The third Dispensation, or second Covenant.p. 196, 197
In what sense Mastix is Puritane or Independent.p. 197
That he is above all Sects whatsoever, as Sects, as being a mere Christian,p. 197, 198
The Transfiguration of his inward man into a breathing Co­losse, speaking from Heaven, and reminding all the Inhabi­tants of the Earth, of the true cause of their perpetuall Mi­series and Calamities.p. 199
That Mastix is no Enthusiast for all this, but that it is onely the Triumph of the Divine Light in his Rationall Spirit, striking through his exteriour faculties, and moving his ve­ry body with coldnesse and trembling.p. 200
His friendly and faithfull Monitions to Eugenius, freely disco­vering to him the true causes of his being defeated in his great Designes upon Fame and Knowledge.from p. 200, to 204
That a wise man will not onely not be hurt, but be profited by his Enemie.p. 205, &c.


Page 106. line 3. read [...].

page 125. line 9. read Deferents.

page 145. line 7. read glasse.

page 147. line 23. for, in the highest, read, the highest.

page 160. line 20. read [...].

page 177. line 3, 4. read, kind of at­tractive.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.