Why give they not themselves like excellence, If she were but the body's quality, Then we should be with it sick, maim'd, and blind; But we perceive, where these privations be, An healthy, perfect, and sharp-sighted mind. BUT how shall we this union well express? Then dwells she not therein as in a tent, Nor as a vessel water doth contain, Nor as the heat doth in the fire remain, But as the fair and cheerful morning light To the transparent air, in all and every part So doth the piercing soul the body fill, Being all in all, and all in part diffus'd; Nor forc'd, encounter'd, troubled, nor confus'd. And as the sun above the light doth bring, So from the Eternal light the soul doth spring, REASONS FOR THE SOUL'S IMMORTALITY. AGAIN, how can she but immortal be, And never rests till she attain to it? All moving things to other things do move Of the same kind, which shews their nature such; So earth falls down, and fire doth mount above, Till both their proper elements do touch. And as the moisture which the thirsty earth VOL. I. CC Long doth she stay, as loth to leave the land Yet nature so her streams doth lead and carry, As that her course doth make no final stay, Till she herself unto the sea doth marry, Within whose watʼry bosom first she lay. E'en so the soul, which, in this earthly mould, At first her mother earth she holdeth dear, Yet under heaven she cannot light on aught For who did ever yet, in honour, wealth, gay, Then, as a bee which among weeds doth fall, So, when the soul finds here no true content, THOMAS GOFFE. THIS writer left four or five dramatic pieces of very ordinary merit. He was bred at Christ's Church, Oxford. He held the living of East Clandon, in Essex, but unfortunately succeeded not only to the living, but to the widow of his predecessor, who, being a Xantippe, contributed, according to Langbaine, to shorten his days by the "violence of her provoking tongue." He had the reputation of an eloquent preacher, and some of his sermons appeared in print. SCENE FROM GOFFE'S TRAGEDY OF AMURATH, OR THE COURAGEOUS TURK. Aladin, husband to the daughter of Amurath, having rebelled against his father-in-law, is brought captive before him. Enter at one door, Amurath with attendants; at the other door, Aladin, his wife, two children, in white--they kneel to Amurath. Amur. OUR hate must not part thus. I'll tell thee, prince, That thou hast kindled Ætna in our breast! And such a flame is quench'd with nought but blood His blood whose hasty and rebellious blast Gave life unto the fire! * * * Alad. Why then, I'll, like the Roman Pompey, hide My dying sight, scorning imperious looks Amur. What, still stiff-neck’d? Is this the truce you beg? Sprinkled before thy face, those rebel brats |