If she were but the Bodie's qualitie
Then would she be with it sicke, maim'd and blind;
But we perceiue where these priuations be
A healthy, perfect, and sharpe-sighted mind.
If she the bodie's nature did pertake,
Her strength would with the bodie's strength decay;
But when the bodie's strongest sinewes slake,
Then is the Soule most actiue, quicke and gay.
If she were but the bodie's accident,
And her sole being did in it subsist;
As white in snow; she might her selfe absent,
And in the bodie's substance not be mist.
But it on her, not shee on it depends;
For shee the body doth sustaine and cherish;
Such secret powers of life to it she lends,
That when they faile, then doth the body perish.
Since then the Soule works by her selfe alone,
Springs not from Sense, nor humors, well agreeing;
Her nature is peculiar, and her owne:
She is a substance, and a perfect being.
That the Soule is a Spirit.
But though this substance be the root of Sense,
Sense knowes her not, which doth but bodies know;
Shee is a spirit, and heauenly influence,
Which from the fountaine of God's Spirit doth flow.
Shee is a Spirit, yet not like ayre, or winde,
Nor like the spirits about the heart or braine;
Nor like those spirits which alchymists do find,
When they in euery thing seeke gold in vaine.
For shee all natures vnder heauen doth passe;
Being like those spirits, which God's bright face do see;
Or like Himselfe, Whose image once she was,
Though now (alas!) she scarce His shadow bee.
Yet of the formes, she holds the first degree,
That are to grosse materiall bodies knit;
Yet shee her selfe is bodilesse and free;
And though confin'd, is almost infinite.