But ere she can consider how she went, 205 At once is at, and through the Firmament. And as these starres were but so many beads Strung on one string, speed undistinguish'd leads Her through those Spheares, as through the beads, a string, Whose quick succession makes it still one thing: 210 As doth the pith, which, lest our bodies slacke, Strings fast the little bones of necke, and backe; So by the Soule doth death string Heaven and Earth; For when our Soule enjoyes this her third birth, (Creation gave her one, a second, grace,) 215 Heaven is as neare, and present to her face, As colours are, and objects, in a roome Where darknesse was before, when Tapers come. This must, my Soule, thy long-short Progresse bee; To'advance these thoughts, remember then, that she, 220 She; whose faire body no such prison was, But that a Soule might well be pleas'd to passe An age in her; she whose rich beauty lent Mintage to other beauties, for they went But for so much as they were like to her; 225 Shee, in whose body (if we dare preferre This low world, to so high a marke as shee,) The Westerne treasure, Easterne spicerie, Europe, and Afrique, and the unknowne rest Were easily found, or what in them was best; 230 And when w'have made this large discoverie Of all, in her some one part then will bee Twenty such parts, whose plenty and riches is Enough to make twenty such worlds as this; Shee, whom had they knowne who did first betroth 235 The Tutelar Angels, and assign'd one, both To Nations, Cities, and to Companies, To Functions, Offices, and Dignities, And to each severall man, to him, and him, They would have given her one for every limbe; 240 She, of whose soule, if wee may say, 'twas Gold, Her body was th'Electrum, and did hold Many degrees of that; wee understood Her by her sight; her pure, and eloquent blood Spoke in her cheekes, and so distinctly wrought, 245 That one might almost say, her body thought; Shee, shee, thus richly and largely hous'd, is gone: And chides us slow-pac'd snailes who crawle upon Our prisons prison, earth, nor thinke us well, Longer, then whil'st wee beare our brittle shell. 250 [Sidenote: _Her ignorance in this life and knowledge in the next._[4]] But 'twere but little to have chang'd our roome, If, as we were in this our living Tombe Oppress'd with ignorance, wee still were so. Poore soule, in this thy flesh what dost thou know? Thou know'st thy selfe so little, as thou know'st not, 255 How thou didst die, nor how thou wast begot. Thou neither know'st, how thou at first cam'st in, Nor how thou took'st the poyson of mans sinne. Nor dost thou, (though thou know'st, that thou art so)