With these sometime she doth her time beguile, These doe by fits her Fantasie possesse; But she distastes them all within a while, And in the sweetest finds a tediousnesse. But if upon the World's Almighty King She once doe fixe her humble louing thought; Who by His _picture_, drawne in euery thing, And _sacred messages_, her _loue_ hath sought; Of Him she thinks, she cannot thinke too much; This hony tasted still, is euer sweet; The pleasure of her rauisht thought is such, As almost here, she with her blisse doth meet: But when in Heauen she shall His _Essence_ see, This is her _soueraigne good, and perfect blisse_: Her longings, wishings, hopes all finisht be, Her ioyes are full, her motions rest in this: There is she crownd with garlands of _content_, There doth she manna eat, and nectar drinke; That Presence doth such high delights present, As neuer tongue could speake, nor heart could thinke. REASON III. FROM CONTEMPT OF DEATH IN THE BETTER SORT OF SPIRITS. _For this_ the better _Soules_ doe oft despise The bodie's death, and doe it oft desire; For when on ground, the burdened ballance lies The emptie part is lifted vp the higher: But if the bodie's death the _soule_ should kill, Then death must needs _against her nature_ bee; And were it so, all _soules_ would flie it still, "For Nature hates and shunnes her contrary. For all things else, which Nature makes to bee, Their _being_ to preserue, are chiefly taught; And though some things desire a change to see, Yet neuer thing did long to turne to naught. If then by death the _soule_ were quenchèd quite, She could not thus against her nature runne; Since euery senselesse thing, by Nature's light, Doth preservation seeke, destruction shunne. Nor could the World's best spirits so much erre, If death tooke all--that they should all agree, Before this life, their _honour_ to preferre; For what is praise to things that nothing bee? Againe, if by the bodie's prop she stand; If on the bodie's life, her life depend; As _Meleager's_ on the fatall brand[146],-- The bodie's good shee onely would intend: We should not find her half so braue and bold, To leade it to the Warres and to the seas; To make it suffer watchings, hunger, cold, When it might feed with plenty, rest with ease. Doubtlesse all _Soules_ have a suruiuing thought; Therefore of death we thinke with quiet mind; But if we thinke of _being turn'd to nought_, A trembling horror in our _soules_ we find. [Footnote 146: Apollod I., 8, § 2, _et alibi_: Ovid, _Met._ viii., 450; _et seq_: 531: Diod. IV., 34. G.] REASON IV. FROM THE FEARE OF DEATH IN THE WICKED SOULES.