If we had nought but _Sense_, each liuing wight, Which we call _brute_, would be more sharp then we; As hauing _Sense's apprehensiue might_, In a more cleere, and excellent degree. But they doe want that _quicke discoursing power_, Which doth in vs the erring _Sense_ correct; Therefore the _bee_ did sucke the painted flower, And _birds_, of grapes, the cunning shadow, peckt. _Sense_ outsides knows; the Soule throgh al things sees; _Sense_, _circumstance_; she, doth the _substance_ view; _Sense_ sees the barke, but she, the life of trees; _Sense_ heares the sounds, but she, the concords true. (pp. 35-38.) Once more:-- I know my bodie's of so fraile a kind, As force without, feauers within can kill; I know the heauenly nature of my minde, But 'tis corrupted both in wit and will: I know my _Soule_ hath power to know all things, Yet is she blinde and ignorant in all; I know I am one of Nature's little kings, Yet to the least and vilest things am thrall. I know my life's a paine and but a span, I know my _Sense_ is mockt with euery thing: And to conclude, I know my selfe a MAN, Which is a _proud_, and yet a _wretched_ thing. (p. 24.) If the pathos and grandeur of Pascal be anticipated in these lines, Pope has certainly appropriated Davies' favourite metaphor of the 'spider.' Witness the Sense of Feeling illustrated:-- Much like a subtill spider, which doth sit In middle of her web, which spreadeth wide; If ought doe touch the vtmost thred of it, Shee feeles it instantly on euery side. (p. 70). So in the _Essay of Man_:-- "The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine, Feels at each thread, and lives along the line." Another now familiar 'metaphor' also occurs in "Nosce Teipsum":-- "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." (p. 72.)