The Sensitiue Memorie.
Yet alwayes all may not afore her bee;
Successiuely, she this and that intends;
Therefore such formes as she doth cease to see,
To Memorie's large volume shee commends.
The lidger-booke lies in the braine behinde,
Like Ianus' eye, which in his poll was set;
The lay-man's tables, store-house of the mind,
Which doth remember much, and much forget.
Heere Sense's apprehension, end doth take;
As when a stone is into water cast,
One circle doth another circle make,
Till the last circle touch the banke at last.[133]
The Passions of Sense.
But though the apprehensiue[134] power doe pause,
The motiue vertue then begins to moue;
Which in the heart below doth Passions cause,
Ioy, griefe, and feare, and hope, and hate, and loue.
These passions haue a free commanding might,
And diuers actions in our life doe breed;
For, all acts done without true Reason's light,
Doe from the passion of the Sense proceed.
But sith[135] the braine doth lodge the powers of Sense,
How makes it in the heart those passions spring?
The mutuall loue, the kind intelligence
'Twixt heart and braine, this sympathy doth bring.
From the kind heat, which in the heart doth raigne,
The spirits of life doe their begining take;
These spirits of life ascending to the braine,
When they come there, the spirits of Sense do make.