Will is as free as any Emperor, Nought can restrain her gentle liberty; No tyrant, nor no torment hath the power To make us will; when we unwilling be! [Sidenote: The intellectual Memory.] To these high powers, a Storehouse doth pertain; Where they, all Arts and general reasons lay! Which in the Soul (even after death!) remain, And no Lethean flood can wash away! This is the Soul! and those, her virtues be! Which, though they have their sundry proper ends, And one exceeds another in degree; Yet each on other mutually depends. Our Wit is given, Almighty GOD to know! Our Will is given to love Him, being known! But GOD could not be _known_ to us below, But by His works, which through the Sense are shown. And as the Wit doth reap the fruits of Sense; So doth the Quick'ning Power, the Senses feed! Thus while they do their sundry gifts dispense, The best, the service of the least doth need! Even so, the King, his magistrates do serve; Yet Commons feed both magistrate and King! The Commons' peace, the magistrates preserve By borrowed power, which from the Prince doth spring. The Quickening Power would _be_, and so would rest! The Sense would not _be_ only, be _be well_! But Wit's ambition longeth to _be best_! For it desires in endless bliss, to dwell. And these three Powers, three sorts of men do make. For some, like plants, their veins do only fill; And some, like beasts, their senses' pleasure take, And some, like angels, do contemplate still. Therefore the fables turned some men to flowers, And others, did with brutish forms invest; And did of others, make celestial powers Like angels! which still travail, yet still rest! Yet these three Powers are not three Souls but one, As one and two are both contained in three; Three being one number by itself alone. A shadow of the blessed Trinity! [Sidenote: An acclamation.] O what is Man! (Great Maker of mankind!) That Thou to him so great respect dost bear! That Thou adorn'st him with so bright a Mind! Mak'st him a king! and even an angel's peer! O what a lively life! what heavenly power! What spreading virtue! what a sparkling fire! How great! how plentiful! how rich a dower! Dost Thou, within this dying flesh inspire! Thou leav'st Thy Print in other works of Thine! But Thy whole Image, Thou, in Man hast writ! There cannot be a creature more divine; Except, (like Thee!) it should be infinite. But it exceeds Man's thought, to think how high GOD hath raised Man, since GOD, a man became: The angels do admire this mystery, And are astonished when they view the same! [Illustration]