Two treatises in the one of which the nature of bodies, in the other, the nature of mans soule is looked into in way of discovery of the immortality of reasonable soules.

THE FIRST TREATISE DECLARING THE NATVRE AND OPERATIONS OF BODIES. (Book 1)

THE FIRST CHAPTER A Preamble to the whole discourse; concerning notions in generall.

IN deliuering any science;1 1.1 the cleerest and smoothest methode, and most agreeable to nature; is to begin with the considera∣tion of those thinges, that are most com∣mon and obuious; and by the dissection of them to descend by orderly degrees and steppes (as they lye in the way) vnto the examination of the most particular and remote ones. Now, in our present inten∣ded suruay of a body, the first thing which occurreth to our sense in the perusall of it, is its Quantity, bulke, or magnitude▪ and this see∣meth by all mankind, to be conceiued so inseparable from a body as when a man would distinguish a corporeall substance from a spiri∣tuall one (wich is accounted indiuisible) he naturally pitcheth vpon an apprehension of its hauing bulke, and beind solide, tangible, and apt to make impression vpon our outward senses; according to that expression of Lucretius, vvho studying nature in a familiar and ratio∣nall manner telleth vs;

Tangere enim & tangi, nisi corpus nulla potest res.

And therefore in our inquiry of bodies, we will obserue that plaine methode which nature teacheth vs, and will begin with examining what Quantity is, as being their first and primary affection▪ and that which maketh the thinges we treate of, be what we intend to signify by the name of body.

2 1.2But because there is a greate variety of apprehensions framed by learned men, of the nature of Quantity (though indeede nothing can be more plaine and simple then it is in it selfe) I conceiue it will not be amisse, before we enter into the explication of it, to consider how the mystery of discoursing and expressing our thoughts to one an other by words (a prerogatiue belonging only to man) is ordered and gouerned among vs: that so, we may auoyde those rockes, which many, and for the most part, such as thinke they spinne the finest thriddes, do suffer shippewracke against in theire subtilest discourses. The most dangerous of all which, assuredly is when they confound the true and reall natures of thinges, with the conceptions they frame of them in theire owne mindes. By which fundamentall miscar∣riage of theire reasoning, they fall into great errors and absurdities: and whatsoeuer they build vpon so ruinous a foundation, prooueth but vselesse cobwebbes or prodigious Chymeras. It is true, wordes serue to expresse thinges: but if you obserue the matter well; you will perceiue they doe so, onely according to the pictures we make of them in our owne thoughts, and not according as the thinges are in theire proper natures. Which is very reasonable it should be so; since the soule, that giueth the names, hath nothing of the thinges in her but these notions, and knoweth not the thinges otherwise then by these notions: and therefore can not giue other names but such as must signify the thinges by mediation of these notions. In the thinges, all that belongeth vnto them is comprised vnder one entire En∣tity: but in vs, there are framed as many seuerall distinct formall con∣ceptions, as that one thing sheweth it selfe vnto vs with differēt faces. Euery one of which conceptions seemeth to haue for its obiect a distinct thing, because the conception it selfe is as much seuered and distinguished from another conception or image, arising out of the very same thing that begott this, as it can be from any image painted in the vnderstanding by an absolutely other thing.

3 1.3It will not be amisse to illustrate this matter by some familiar example. Imagine I haue an apple in my hand: the same fruite wor∣keth different effects vpon my seuerall senses: my eye telleth me it is greene or red: my nose that it hath a mellow sent: my taste that it is sweet, and my hand that it is cold and weighty. My senses thus affected, send messengers to my fantasie with newes of the discoueries they haue made: and there, all of them make seuerall and distinct pictures of what entereth by theire dores. So that my Reason (which discourseth vpon what it findeth in my fantasie) can consider greene∣nesse by it selfe, or mellownesse, or sweetenesse, or coldnesse, or any other quality whatsoeuer, singly and alone by it selfe, without relation to any other that is painted in me by the same apple: in which, none of these haue any distinction at all, but are one and the same substance of the apple, that maketh various and different im∣pressions

vpon me, according to the various dispositions of my seue∣rall senses: as hereafter we shall explicate at large. But in my mind, euery one of these notions is a distinct picture by it selfe, and is as much seuered from any of the rest arising from the same apple, as it would be from any impression or image made in me, by a stone or any other substance whatsoeuer, that being entire in it selfe and cir∣cumscribed within its owne circle, is absolutely sequestred from any communication with the other: so that, what is but one entire thing in it selfe, seemeth to be many distinct thinges in my vnderstan∣ding. Whereby, if I be not very cautious, and in a manner wrestle with the bent and inclination of my vnderstanding (which is apt to referre the distinct and complete stampe it findeth within it selfe, vnto a distinct and complete originall character in the thing) I shall be in danger before I am aware, to giue actuall Beings to the quantity, fi∣gure, colour, smell, tast, and other accidents of the apple, each of them distinct one from an other, as also from the substance which they clothe; because I find the notions of them really distinguished (as if they were different Entities) in my minde. And from thence I may inferre, there is noe contradiction in nature to haue the accidents really seuered from one an other, and to haue them actually subsist without theire substance: and such other mistaken subtilities; which arise out of our vnwary conceiting that thinges are in theire owne natures, after the same fashion as we consider them in our vnder∣standing.

And this course of the mindes disguising and changing the im∣pressions it receiueth from outward obiects,4 1.4 into appearances quite differing from what the thinges are in theire owne reall natures; may be obserued not only in multiplying Entities, where in truth there is but one: But also in a contrary manner, by comprising seue∣rall distinct thinges, vnder one single notion; which if afterwards it be reflected backe vpon the thinges themselues, is the occasion of exceeding great errours, and entangleth one in vnsuperable difficul∣ties. As for example: looking vpon seuerall cubes or deyes, whereof one is of gold, an other of lead, a third of yuory, a fourth of wood, a fifth of glasse and what other matter you please; all these seuerall thinges agree together in my vnderstanding, and are there compre∣hended vnder one single notion of a cube; which (like a painter that were to designe them onely in blacke and white) maketh one figure that representeth them all. Now if remoouing my consideration from this impression which the seuerall cubes make in my vnderstan∣ding, vnto the cubes themselues, I shall vnwarily suffer my selfe to pinne this one notion vpon euery one of them, and accordingly con∣ceiue it to be really in them; it will of necessity fall out by this mis∣applying of my intellectuall notion to the reall thinges, that I must allow Existence to other entities, which neuer had nor can haue any in nature.

From this conception, Platos Idaeas had theire birth; for he fin∣ding in his vnderstanding, one vniuersall notion that agreed exactly to euery Indiuiduall of the same species of substance, which im∣printed that notion in him; and conceiuing that the picture of any thing must haue an exact correspondence with the thing it represen∣teth; and not considering that this was but an imperfect picture of the indiuiduall that made it: he did thence conceiue, there was actually in euery indiuiduall substance one vniversall nature running through all of that species, which made them be what they were. And then considering that corporeity, quantity, and other accidents of matter, could not agree with this vniuersall subsistent nature, he denyed all those of it: and so, abstracting from all materiality in his Idaeas, and giuing them a reall and actuall subsistence in nature, he made them like Angels, whose essences and formall reasons were to be the Essence and to giue Existence vnto corporeall indiuiduals: and so, each idaea was embodyed in euery indiuiduall of its species. Vnto which opinion (and vpon the same groundes) Auerroes did leane, in the particular of mens soules. Likewise, Scotus finding in his vnderstanding an vniuersall notion springing from the impression that indiuiduals make in it, will, haue a like vniuersall in the thing it selfe, so determining vniuersals (to vse his owne language and termes) to be aparterei; and expressing the distinction they haue from the rest of the thing, by the termes of actu formaliter sed non realiter: and ther∣by maketh euery indiuiduall comprise an vniuersall subsistent nature in it. Which inconuenience other moderne Philosophers seeking to auoyde, will not allow these vniuersals a reall and actuall subsistence; but will lend them onely a fictitious Being, so making them as they call them Entia rationis. But herein againe they suffer themselues to be carried downe the streame before they are aware by the vnder∣standing (which is apt to pinne vpon the obiects, the notions it fin∣deth within it selfe resulting from them) and doe consider an vnity in the thinges which indeede is onely in the vnderstanding.

5 1.5Therefore one of our greatest cares in the guidance of our dis∣course, and a continual and sedulous caution therein, ought to be vsed in this particular, where euery error is a fundamentall one, and leadeth into inextricable labyrinthes, and where that which is all our leuell to keepe vs vpright and euen (our vnderstanding) is so apt, by reason of its owne nature, and manner of operation to make vs slide into mistaking and errour. And to summe vp in short what this discourse aymeth att, we must narrowly take heed, least reflecting vpon the notions we haue in our mind, we afterwards pinne those ayery superstructures vpon the materiall thinges themselues, that be∣gott them; or frame a new conception of the nature of any thing by the negotiation of our vnderstanding vpon those impressions which it selfe maketh in vs: whereas, we should acquiesce and be content

with that naturall and plaine notion, which springeth immediately and primarily from the thing it selfe: which when we do not, the more we seeme to excell in subtility, the further we goe from reality and truth; like an arrow, which being wrong leuelled at hand, falleth widest when shott in the strongest bowe.

Now to come to an other poynt that maketh to our present pur∣pose.6 1.6 We may obserue there are two sorts of language to expresse our notions by. The one belongeth in generall to all mankind, and the simplest person, that can but apprehend and speake sense, is as much iudge of it, as the greatest Doctour in the schooles: and in this, the words expresse the thinges properly and plainely, according to the naturall conceptions that all people agree in making of them. The other sort of language, is circled in with narrower boundes; and is vnderstood onely by those that in a particular and expresse manner haue beene trayned vp vnto it: and many of the wordes which are proper to it, haue beene by the authors of it, translated and wrested from the generall conceptions of the same wordes, by some meta∣phore, or similitude, or allusion, to serue theire priuate turnes. Without the first manner of expressing our notions, mankind could not liue in society together, and conuerse with one an other: where∣as, the other hath no further extent, then among such persons as haue agreed together to explicate and designe among themselues particular notions peculiar to theire arts and affaires.

Of the first kind, are those tenne generall heads, which Aristotle cal∣leth Praedicaments: vnder which he (who was the most iudicious orde∣rer of notions, and directour of mens cōceptions that euer liued) hath cōprised whatsoeuer hath or can haue a being in nature. For when any obiect occurreth to our thoughts, we eyther consider the essentiall and fundamentall Being of it; or we referre it to some species of Quantity; or we discouer some qualities in it; or we perceiue that it doeth, or that it suffereth some thing; or we conceiue it in some de∣terminate place, or time, and the like. Of all which, euery man liuing that enioyeth but the vse of reason, findeth naturally within himselfe at the very first naming of them, a plaine, complete, and satisfying notion; which is the same without any the least variation, in all mankind; vnlesse it be in such, as haue industriously and by force, and with much labour, perplexed and depraued those prima∣ry and sincere impressions, which nature had freely made in them.

Of the second sort, are the particular wordes of art by which learned men vse to expresse what they meane in sciences; and the names of instruments, and of such thinges as belong to trades, and the like: as a sine, a tangent, an epicycle, a deferent, an axe, a trowell, and such others; the intelligence of which, belongeth not to the gene∣rality of mankind; but onely to Geometricians, Astronomers, Car∣penters, Masons, and such persons as conuerse familiarly and fre∣quently

with those thinges. To learne the true signification of such wordes, we must consult with those that haue the knowledge and practise of them: as in like manner, to vnderstand the other kind of plaine language, we must obserue how the wordes that compose it are apprehended, vsed, and applyed by mankind in generall: and not receiue into this examination the wrested or Metaphoricall senses of any learned men, who seeke oftentimes (beyond any ground in nature) to frame a generall notion that may comprehend all the par∣ticular ones, which in any sense, proper or improper, may arise out of the vse of one word.

7 1.7And this is the cause of greate errors in discourse; soe greate and important, as I cannot too much inculcate the caution requisite to the auoyding of this rocke. Which that it may be the better apprehen∣ded, I will instance in one example of a most plaine and easie con∣ception wherein all mankind naturally agreeth, how the wresting it from its proper, genuine, and originall signification, leadeth one into strange absurdities; and yet they passe for subtile speculations. The notion of being in a place, is naturally the same in all men liuing: aske any simple artisan; Where such a man, such a howse, such a tree, or such a thing is; and he will answere you in the very same manner as the learnedest Philosopher would doe: he will tell you, the man you aske for, is in such a church, sitting in such a piew, and in such a corner of it; that the howse you enquire after, is in such a streete, and next to such two buildinges on each side of it; that the tree you would find out, is in such a forest, vpon such a hill, neere such a foun∣taine, and by such a bush; that the wine you would drinke of, is in such a cellar, in such a part of it, and in such a caske. In conclusion, no man liuing that speaketh naturally and freely out of the notion hee findeth clearely in his vnderstanding, will giue you other answere to the question of where a thing is, then such a one as plainely expresseth his conceit of being in place, to be no other, then a bodies being en∣uironed and enclosed by some one, or seuerall others that are imme∣diate vnto it; as the place, of a liquor, is the vessell that containeth it; and the place of the vessell, is such a part of the chamber, or house that it resteth vpon, together with the ambient ayre; which hath a share in making vp the places of most thinges. And this being the answere, that euery man whatsoeuer will readily giue to this question; and euery asker being fully satisfied with it; we may safely conclude, that all theire notions and conceptions of being in a place, are the same; and consequently, that it is the naturall and true one.

But then some others, considering that such conditions as these will not agree vnto other thinges, which they likewise conceite to be in a place (for they receiue it as an Axiome from theire sense, that whatsoeuer is, must be somewhere, and whatsoeuer is no where, is not att all) they fall to casting about how they may frame some

common notion to comprehend all the seuerall kindes of being in place, which they imagine in the thinges they discourse of. If there were nothing but bodies to be ranked by them in the Predicament of place; then that description I haue already sett downe, would be allowed by them, as sufficient. But since that spirits and spirituall thinges, (as Angels, rationall soules, verities, sciencies, arts, and the like) haue a being in nature; and yet will not be comprised in such a kind of place as a body is contained in; they racke theire thoughts to speculate out some common notion of being in place, which may be common to these, as well as to bodies; like a common accident agreeing to diuerse subiects. And so in the end, they pitch vpon an Entity, which they call an Vbi: and they conceite the nature and formall reason of that to be, the ranking of any thing in a place, when that Entity is therevnto affixed. And then they haue no further diffi∣culty, in settling an Angell or any pure spirit, or immateriall essence, in a place as properly, and as completely, as if it were a corporeall substance. It is but assigning an Vbi to such a spirit, and he is pre∣sently riueted to what place you please: and by multiplying the Vbies, any indiuiduall body vnto which they are assigned, is at the same instant in as many distant places, as they allott it different Vbies: and if they assigne the same Vbi to seuerall bodies, so many seuerall ones as they assigne it vnto, will be in one and the same place: and not onely many bodies in one place, but euen a whole bodie in an indi∣uisible, by a kind of Vbi that hath a power to resume all the extended partes, and enclose them in a point of place. All which prodigious conceits and impossibilities in nature, doe spring out of theire mistake in framing Metaphysicall and abstracted conceptions, insteed of contenting themselues with those plaine, easy, and primary notions, which nature stampeth a like in all men of common sense, and vn∣derstanding. As who desireth to bee further instructed in this parti∣cular, may perceiue, if he take the paines to looke ouer what M. White hath discoursed of Place in the first of his Dialogues De Mundo. Vnto which booke, I shall from time to time (according as I shall haue occasion) referre my Reader in those subiects the Author taketh vppon him to prooue; being confident that his Metaphysicall de∣monstrations there, are as firme, as any Mathematicall ones (for Metaphysicall demonstrations haue in themselues as much firme∣nesse, certainty and euidency as they) and so will appeare as euident, as they, vnto whosoeuer shall vnderstand them throughly, and shall frame right conceptions of them: which (how plaine soeuer they seeme to bee) is not the worke of euery pretender to learning.

THE SECOND CHAPTER. Of Quantity.

1 1.8AMONG those primary affections which occurre in the perusall of a body, Quantity (as I haue obserued in the precedent chapter) is one and in a manner the first and the roote of all the rest. Therefore (according to the caution we haue beene so prolixe in giuing, because it is of so maine importance) if we ayme at right vnderstanding the true nature of it, we must examine, what apprehension all kindes of people (that is mankind in generall) maketh of it. By which proceeding, we doe not make the ignorant multitude iudge of that learning which groweth out of the conside∣ration of Quantity: but onely of the naturall notion which serueth learned men for a basis and foundation to build scientificall super-structures vpon. For although, sciencies be the workes and structures of the vnderstanding gouerned and leuelled by the wary and strict rules of most ingenious artificers: yet the ground vpon which they are raised, are such plaine notions of thinges, as naturally and without any art doe present themselues to euery mans apprehension: without which for matter to worke vpon, those artificiall reflections would leaue the vnderstanding as vnsatisfied; as a cooke would the appetite, by a dish vpon which he should haue exercised all his art in dressing it, but whose first substance were not meate of solide nutriment. It is the course market that must deliuer him plaine materialls to employ his cunning vpon: and in like manner, it is the indisciplined multitude that must furnish learned men with naturall apprehensions, and notions to exercise theire wittes about: which when they haue, they may vse and order ad reflect vpon them as they please: but they must first receiue them in that plaine and naked forme, as mankind in generall pictureth them out in theire imaginations.

And therefore the first worke of schollers, is to learne of the people

Quem penes, arbitrium est & ius & norma loquendi,

what is the true meaning and signification of these primary names, and what notions they begett in the generality of mankinde of the thinges they designe. Of the common people then, we must enquire what Quantity is: and we shall soone be informed, if we but consider what answere any sensible man will make vpon the soddaine to a ques∣tion whereof that is the subiect: for, such vnstudyed replies expresse sincerely the plaine and naturall conceptions, which they that make them, haue of the thinges they speake of. And this of Quantity, is the plainest and the first, that nature printeth in vs, of all the thinges we see, feele, and conuerse with all; and that must serue for a ground

vnto all our other inquiries and reflections: for which cause, we must be sure not to receiue it wrested or diguised from its owne nature.

If then any one be asked;2 1.9 what Quantity there is in such a thing, or how greate it is; he will presently in his vnderstanding compare it with some other thing, (equally knowne by both parties) that may serue for a measure vnto it; and then answere, that it is as bigge as it, or twice as bigge, or not halfe so bigge, or the like: in fine, that it is bigger or lesser then an other thing, or equall to it.

It is of maine importance to haue this point throughly and clearely vnderstood; therefore it will not be amisse to turne it and veiw it a little more particularly. If you aske what Quantity there is, of such a parcell of cloth, how much wood in such a piece of timber, how much gold in such an ingott, how much wine in such a vessell, how much time was taken vp in such an action; he that is to giue you an account of them, measureth them by elles, by feete, by inches, by poundes, by ounces, by gallons, by pintes, by daies, by houres, and the like; and then telleth you, how many of those parts, are in the whole that you enquire of. Which answere, euery man liuing will at the instant, without study, make to this question; and with it, euery man that shall aske, will be fully appayed and satisfyed: so that it is most eui∣dent, it fully expresseth the notions of them both, and of all mankind, in this particular.

Wherefore, when we consider that Quantity is nothing else, but the extension of a thing; and that this extension, is expressed by a determinate number of lesser extensions of the same nature; (which lesser ones, are sooner and more easily apprehended then greater; because we are first acquainted and conuersant with such; and our vnderstanding graspeth, weigheth and discerneth such more steadily; and maketh an exacter iudgement of them) and that such lesser ones are in the greater which they measure, as partes in a whole; and that the whole by comprehending those partes, is a meere capacity to be diuided into them: we conclude, that Quantity or Biggnesse, is nothing else but diuisibility; and that a thing is bigge, by hauing a capacity to be diuided, or (which is the same) to haue partes made of it.

This is yet more euident (if more may be) in Discrete Quantity (that is, in number) then in continued Quantity, or extension. For if we consider any number whatsoeuer, we shall find the essence of it, consisteth in a capacity of being resolued and diuided into so many vnities, as are contained in it; which are the partes of it. And this spe∣cies of Quantity being simpler, then the other, serueth for a rule to determine it by▪ as we may obserue in the familiar answeres to ques∣tions of continued Quantity, which expresse by number, the content of it: as when one deliuereth the Quantity of a piece of ground, by such a number of furlonges, acars, perches, or the like.

3 1.10But we must take heed of conceiuing, that those partes, which we consider to discerne the nature of Quantity, are actually and really in the whole of any continued one that containeth them. Elles, feete, inches, are no more reall Entities in the whole that is measured by them, and that maketh impressions of such notions in our vnderstan∣ding; then in our former example, colour, figure mellownesse, tast, and the like are seuerall substances in the apple that affecteth our seuerall senses with such various impressions. It is but one whole that may indeed be cutt into so many seuerall partes: but those partes are not really there, till by diuision they are parcelled out: and then, the whole (out of which they are made) ceaseth to be any longer; and the partes succeede in lieu of it; and are, euery one of them, a new whole.

This truth, is euident out of the very definition we haue gathered of Quantity. For since it is Diuisibility (that is, a bare capacity to diui∣sion) it followeth that it is not yet diuided: and consequently that those partes are not yet in it, which may be made of it; for diuision, is the making two, or more thinges, of one.

4 1.11But because this is a very greate controuersy in schooles; and so important to be determined and settled, as without doing so, we shall be lyable to maine errors in searching the nature and operations of bodies; and that the whole progresse of our discourse, will be vncer∣taine and wauering, if this principle and foundation be not firmely layed: we must apply our selues, to bring some more particular and immediate proofe of the verity of this assertion. Which we will do, by shewing the inconuenience, impossibility, and contradiction, that the admittance of the other leadeth vnto. For if we allow actuall partes to be distinguished in Quantity, it will follow that it is compo∣sed of points or indiuisibles, which we shall prooue to be impossible.

The first will appeare thus: if Quantity were diuided into all the partes into which it is diuisible, it would be diuided into indiuisibles (for nothing diuisible, and not diuided, would remaine in it) but it is distinguished into the same partes, into which it would be diuided, if it were diuided into all the partes into which it is diuisible; therefore it is distinguished into indiuisibles. The maior proposition is euident to any man that hath eyes of vnderstanding. The minor, is the con∣fession or rather the position of the aduersary, when he sayth that all its partes are actually distinguished. The consequence cannot be calumniated, since that indiuisibles, whether they be seperated or ioyned, are still but indiuisibles; though that which is composed of them be diuisible. It must then be granted that all the partes which are in Quantity, are indiuisibles; which partes being actually in it, and the whole being composed af these partes onely, it followeth, that Quantity is composed and made of indiuisibles.

If any should cauill at the supposition, and say we stretch it further

then they intend it, by taking all the partes to be distinguished; whereas they meane onely that there are partes actually in Quantity, abstracting from all▪ by reason that all, in this matter would inferre an infinity, which to be actually in any created thing, they will allow to be impossible. Our answere will be, to represent vnto them how this is barely said, without any ground or colour of reason, meerely to euade the inconuenience, that the argument driueth them vnto. For if any partes be actually distinguished, why should not all be so? What prerogatiue haue some that the others haue not? And how came they by it? If they haue theire actuall distinction out of theire nature of being partes, then all must enioy it a like, and all be equally distinguished, as the supposition goeth: and they must all be indiuisi∣bles as we haue prooued. Besides to preuent the cauill vpon the word all, we may change the expression of the Proposition into a negatiue: for if they admitt (as they doe) that there is no part in Quantity, but is distinguished as farre as it may be distinguished, then the same conclusion followeth with no lesse euidence; and all will prooue in∣diuisibles, as before.

But it is impossible that indiuisibles should make Quantity;5 1.12 for if they should, it must be done eyther by a finite and determinate num∣ber, or by an infinite multitude of them. If you say by a finite; lett vs take (for example) three indiuisibles, and by adding them together, lett vs suppose a line to be composed; whose extent being onely lon∣gitude, it is the first and simpliest species of Quantity, and therefore whatsoeuer is diuisible into partes, must be at the least a line. This line thus made, cannot be conceiued to be diuided into more partes then into three; since doing so you reduce it, into the indiuisibles that composed it. But Euclide hath demonstratiuely prooued beyond all cauill, (in the tenth proposition of his sixt booke of Elements) that any line whatsoeuer may be diuided into whatsoeuer number of partes; so that if this be a line, it must be diuisible into a hundred or a thousand, or a million of partes: which being impossible in a line, that being diuided into three partes onely, euery one of those three is incapable of further diuision; it is euident, that neyther a line, nor any Quantity whatsoeuer, is composed or made of a determinate number of indiuisibles.

And since that this capacity of being diuisible into infinite partes, is a property belonging to all extension (for Euclides demonstration is vniuersall) wee must needes confesse that it is the nature of indiui∣sibles, when they are ioyned together, to be drowned in one another, for otherwyse there would result a kind of extension out of them, which would not haue that property; contrary to what Euclide hath demonstrated. And from hence it followeth that Quantity cannot be composed of an infinite multitude of such indiuisibles; for if this be the nature of indiuisibles, though you putt neuer so greate a number

of them together, they will still drowne themselues all in one indiuisi∣ble point. For what difference can theire being infinite, bring to them, of such force as to destroy theire essence and property? If you but con∣sider how the essentiall composition of any multitude whatsoeuer, is made by the continuall addition of vnities, till that number arise; it is euident in our case that the infinity of indiuisibles must also arise, out of the continued addition of still one indiuisible to the in∣diuisibles presupposed: then lett vs apprehend a finite number of indiuisibles, which (according as we haue prooued) do make no ex∣tension, but are all of them drowned in the first; and obseruing how the progresse vnto an infinite multitude, goeth on by the steppes of one and one, added still to this presupposed number; we shall see, that euery indiuisible added and consequently the whole infinity, will be drowned in the first number, as that was in the first indiuisible.

Which will be yet plainer, if we consider that the nature of exten∣sion requireth that one parte be not in the same place, where the other is: then if this extension be composed of indiuisibles, lett vs take two pointes of place in which this extension is, and inquire whether the indiuisibles that are in each one of these pointes, be finite or infinite. If it be answered that they are finite, then the finite indiuisibles in those two pointes make an extension; which we haue prooued im∣possible. But if they be said to be infinite; then infinite indiuisibles are drowned in one point, and consequently haue not the force to make extension. Thus then it remaineth firmely established, That Quantity is not composed of indiuisibles (neyther finite, nor infinite ones) and consequently, that partes are not actually in it.

6 1.13Yet before we leaue this point, although we haue already beene somewhat long about it, I conceiue it will not be tedious, if we be yet a litle longer, and bend our discourse to remooue a difficulty that euen sense it selfe seemeth to obiect vnto vs. For doth not our eye eui∣dently informe vs, there are fingers, handes, armes, legges, feete, toes and variety of other partes, in a mans body? These are actually in him, and seeme to be distinct thinges in him, so euidently, that we cannot be persuaded, but that we see, and feele, the distinction betweene them: for euery one of them, hath a particular power of actuall working and doing what belongeth vnto its nature to do: each finger is really there; the hand is different from the foote; the legge from the arme; and so of the rest. Are not these partes then actually and really in a mans body? And is not each of them as really distin∣guished from any other?

This appeareth at the first sight to be an insuperable obiection, because of the confirmation and euidence that sense seemeth to giue it. But looking neerely into the matter, we shall find that the difficul∣ty ariseth not from what sense informeth vs of; but from our wrong applying the conditions of our notions vnto the thinges that make

impressions vpon our sense. Sense iudgeth not which is a finger, which is a hand, or which is a foote. The notions agreeing to these wordes, as well as the wordes themselues, are productions of the vnderstan∣ding: which considering seuerall impressions made vpon the sense by the same thing as it hath a vertue, and power to seuerall operations, frameth seuerall notions of it: as in our former example, it doth of colour, figure, tast and the like, in an apple. For as these are not diffe∣rent bodies or substances, distinguished one from an other; but are the same one entire thing, working seuerally vpon the senses, and that accordingly, maketh these different pictures in the mind; which are there as much distinguished, as if they were pictures of different substances. So, the partes which are considered in Quantity, are not diuerse thinges: but are onely a vertue or power to be diuers thinges: which vertue, making seuerall impressions vpon the senses, occasio∣neth seuerall notions in the vnderstanding: and the vnderstanding is so much the more prone to conceiue those partes as distinct thinges, by how much Quantity is neerer to be distinct thinges, then the qualities of the apple are. For Quantity, is a possibility to be made distinct thinges by diuision: whereas the others, are but a vertue to do distinct thinges. And yet (as we haue touched aboue) nothing can be more manifest, then that if Quantity be diuisibility (which is a possibility, that many thinges may be made of it) these partes are not yet diuers thinges. So that, if (for example) a rodde be layed before vs, and halfe of it be hid from our sight, and the other halfe appeare; it is not one part or thing that sheweth it selfe, and an other part or thing that doth not shew itselfe: but it is the same rodde or thing, which sheweth it selfe according to the possibility of being one new thing, but doth not shew it selfe according to the possibility of being the other of the two thinges, it may be made by diuision. Which example, if it be well considered will make it much more easily sinke into vs, that a hand, or eye, or foote, is not a distinct thing by it selfe; but that it is the man, according as he hath a certaine vertue or power in him to distinct operations. For if you seuer any of these partes from the whole body; the hand can no more hold; nor the eye see; nor the foote walke; which are the powers that essentially constitute them to be what they are: and therefore they are no longer a hand, an eye, or a foote.

Now then to come to the obiection;7 1.14 lett vs examine how farre, sense may be allowed to be iudge in this difficulty: and we shall find, that sense cannot determine any one part in a body: for if it could, it would precisely tell, where that part beginneth or endeth: but it being agreed vpon, that it beginneth and endeth in indiuisibles; it is certai∣ne, that sense cannot determine of them. If then sense cannot determi∣ne any one part, how shall it see that it is distinguished from all other partes? Againe; considering that all that whereof sense is capable,

is diuisible, it still telleth vs, that in all it seeth, there are more partes then one: and therefore it can not discerne, nor informe vs of any that is one alone: nor knoweth what it is to be one; for it neuer could discerne it: but what is many, is many ones and can not be knowne, by that, which knoweth not, what it is to be one: and consequently sense can not telle vs, that there are many. Wherefore it is euident, that we may not rely vpon sense for this question. And as for reason, she hath already giuen her verdict.

So that nothing remaineth but to shew, why we talke as we do, in ordinary discourse, of many partes: and that what we say in that kind, is true, notwithstanding the vnity of the thing. Which will appeare plainely, if we consider that our vnderstanding hath a custome for the better discerning of thinges, to impose vpon a thing as it is vnder one notion, the exclusion of it self as it is vnder other notions. And this is euident vnto all schollers, when the marke of exclusion is ex∣pressely putt: as when they speake of a white thing, adding the redu∣plication, as it is white: which excludeth all other considerations of that thing, besides the whitenesse of it: but when it cometh vnder some particular name of the thing, it may deceiue those that are not cunning: though indeede, most men discouer it in such names as we call abstracted; as humanity, animality, and the like. But it easily de∣ceiueth when it cometh in concrete names; as it doth in the name of Part in generall, or in the names of particular partes; as a hand, an eye, an inch, an elle, and others of the like nature: for as you see that a part excludeth both the notion of the whole, and of the remaining partes: so doth a hand, an eye, an elle, exclude all the rest of that thing, whereof the hand is a hand, and the elle is an elle, and so forth. Now then, as euery man seeth euidently that it can not be said; the wall as it is white is plaster or stone: no more can it be said, that the hand of a man is a foote; because the word hand signifieth as much in it selfe, as if the man were taken, by reduplica∣tion, to be the man as he is hand, or as he hath the power of holding. So likewise, in the rodde we spoke of before; it can not be said that the part seene is the part vnseene; because the part seene, signifieth the rodde as it is a possibility to be made by diuision such a thing, as it appeareth to the sight. And thus it is cleare how the difficulty of this point, ariseth out of the wrongfull applying the conditions of our notions, and of names, to the obiects and thinges which we know: where of we gaue warning in the begining.* 1.15

8 1.16After which there remaineth no more to be said of this subiect, but to enumerate the seuerall specieses of Quantity, according to that diuision which Logitians for more facility of discourse haue made of it. Namely, these sixe: magnitudine, place, motion, time, number, and weight. Of which, the two first are permanent, and lye still exposed to the pleasure of whosoeuer hath a mind to take a suruay of them.

Which he may do by measuring what partes they are diuisible into; how many elles, feete, inches, a thing is long broad or deepe; how great a place is; whether it be not bigger or lesser then such an other; and by such considerations as these; which do all agree in this, that they expresse the essence of those two specieses of Quantity, to consist in a capacity of being diuided into partes.

The two next; motion and time; though they be of a fleeting pro∣priety, yet it is euident that in regard of theire originall and essentiall nature, they are nothing else but a like diuisibility into partes; which is measured by passing ouer so great or so litle distance; and by yeares, dayes, houres, minutes, and the like. Number we also see is of the same nature; for it is diuisible into so many determinate partes, and is measured by vnities, or by lesser numbers so or so often contained in a proposed greater. And the like is euident of weight, which is di∣uisible into poundes, ounces, drammes, or graines; and by them is measured. So that looking ouer all the seuerall specieses of Quantity; it is euident, our definition of it is a true one, and expresseth fully the essence of it, when we say it is diuisibility, or a capacity to be diuided into partes: and that no other notion whatsoeuer, besides this, reacheth the nature of it.

THE THIRD CHAPTER. Of Rarity and Density.

I INTEND in this Chapter to looke as farre as I can into the nature and causes of the two first differences of bodies,1 1.17 which follow out of Quantity as it concurreth with substance to make a body: for, the discouery of them, and of the various pro∣portions of them among themselues, will be a great and important steppe in the iourney we are going. But the scarcity of our language is such, in subiets remooued from ordinary conuersation, (though in others, I thinke none is more copious or expressiue) as affordeth vs not apt wordes of our owne to expresse significantly such notions as I must busie my selfe about in this discourse. Therefore I will presume to borrow them from the Latine schoole, where there is much adoe about them. I would expresse the difference betweene bodies, that vnder the same measures and outward bulke, haue a greater thinne∣nesse and expansion, or thicknesse and solidity, one then an other; which termes, (or any I can find in English) do not signify fully those affections of Quantity that I intend here to declare: therefore I will do it vnder the names of Rarity and Density; the true meaning of which will appeare by what we shall hereafter say.

2 1.18It is euident vnto vs, that there are different sortes of bodies, of which though you take equall quantities in one regard, yet they will be vnequall in an other. Theire magnitudes may be the same, but theire weights will be different; or contrariwise, theire weights being equall, theire outward measures will not be so. Take a pinte of ayre; and weigh it against a pinte of water, and you will see the ballance of the last goe downe amaine: but if you driue out the ayre by filling the pinte with lead, the other pinte in which the water is, will rise againe as fast: which if you poure out, and fill that pinte with quickesiluer, you will perceaue the lead to be much lighter: and againe, you will find a pinte of gold heauier then so much Mercury. And in like manner, if you take away of the heauy bodies till they agree in weight with the lighter, they will take vp and fill different propor∣tions, and partes of the measure that shall containe them.

But from whence this effect ariseth, is the difficulty that we would lay open. Our measures tell vs theire quantities are equall; and reason assureth vs, there can not be two bodies in one and the same place; therefore when we see that a pinte of one thing outweigheth a pinte of an other that is thinner, we must conclude that there is more body compacted together in the heauy thing then in the light: for else how could so litle of a solide or dense thing, be stretched out, to take vp so great roome, as we see in a basen of water that being rarifyed into smoake or ayre, filleth a whole chamber? and againe, shrinke backe into so litle roome, as when it returneth into water, or is contracted into yce? But how this comprehension of more body in equall roome is effected, doth not a litle trouble Philosophers.

3 1.19To find a way that may carry vs through these difficulties that arise out of the Rarity and Density of bodies, lett vs do as Astronomers when they enquire the motions of the Spheres and Planets: they take all the Phenomena or seuerall appearances of them to our eyes; and then attribute to them such orbes, courses, and periodes, as may square and fitt with euery one of them; and by supposing them, they can exactly calculate all that will euer after happen to them in theire motions. So lett vs take into our consideration the cheife properties of rare and dense bodies, and then cast with our selues to find out an hypothesis, or supposition (if it be possible) that may agree with them all.

First, it seemeth vnto vs that dense bodies haue theire partes more close and compacted, then others haue, that are more rare and sub∣tile. Secondly they are more heauy, then rare ones. Againe, the rare are more easily diuided then the dense bodies: for water, oyle, milke, honey, and such like substances will not onely yield easily to any harder thing that shall make its way through them; but they are so apt to diuision and to loose theire continuity, that theire owne weights will ouercome and breake it: whereas in iron, gold, marble,

and such dense bodies, a much greater weight and force, is necessary to worke that effect. And indeed if wee looke well into it, we shall find that the rarer thinges, are as diuisible in a lesser Quantity, as the more dense are in a greater: and the same force will breake the rarer thing into more and lesser partes, then it will an equall one that is more dense. Take a sticke of light wood of such a biggenesse that being a foote long, you may breake it with your handes, and an other of the same biggenesse, but of a more heauy and compacted wood, and you shall not breake it, though it be two foote long: and with equall force you may breake a loafe of bread into more and lesse partes, then a lumpe of lead that is of the same biggenesse. Which also will resist more to the diuision of fire (the subtilest diuider that is) then so much water will; for the litle atomes of fire (which we shall discourse of hereafter) will pierce and cutt out in the water, almost as litle partes as themselues, and mingling themselues with them they will fly away together, and so conuert the whole body of water into subtile smoake: whereas the same Agent, after long working vpon lead, will bring it into no lesse partes then small graines of dust, which it calcineth it into. And gold, that is more dense then lead, resisteth peremptorily all the diuiding power of fire; and will not at all be reduced into a calx or lime by such operation as reduced lead into it.

So that remembring, how the nature of Quantity is Diuisibility; and considering that rare thinges are more diuisible then dense ones; we must needes acknowledge that the nature of Quantity is some way more perfectly in thinges that are rare, then in those that are dense. On the other side, more compacted and dense thinges, may happily seeme to some to haue more Quantity then those that are rare; and that it is but shruncke together; which may be stretched out and driuen into much greater dimensions then the Quantity of rare thinges, taking the quantities of each of them equall in outward ap∣pearance. As gold may be beaten into much more and thinner leafe, then an equall bulke of syluer or lead. A waxe candle will burne longer with equall light, then a tallow candle of the same biggenesse; and consequently, be conuerted into a greater Quantity of fire and ayre. Oyle will make much more flame then spiritt of wine, that is farre rarer then it.

These and such like considerations,4 1.20 haue much perplexed Philo∣sophers, and haue driuen them into diuerse thoughts to find out the reasons of them. Some obseruing that the diuiding of a body into litle partes, maketh it lesse apt to descend, then when it is in greater; haue beleeued the whole cause of litghnesse and rarity to be deriued from diuision. As for example; they find that lead cutt into litle pieces, will not goe downe so fast in water, as when it is in bulke: and it may be reduced into so small atomes, that it will for some space swimme vpon the water like dust of wood.

Which assumption is prooued by the greate Galileus; vnto whose excellent witt and admirable industry, the world is beholding, not onely for his wonderfull discoueries made in the heauens, but also for his accurate and learned declaring of those very thinges that lye vnder our feete. He, about the 90^th page of his first Dialogue of motion, doth clearly demonstrate how any reall medium must of ne∣cessity resist more the descent of a litle piece of lead, or any other weighty matter, then it would a greater piece: and the resistence will be greater and greater as the pieces are lesser and lesser. So that, as the pieces are made lesse, they will in the same medium sinke the slower; and do seeme to haue acquired a new nature of lightnesse by theire diminution: not onely of hauing lesse weight in them then they had; as halfe an ounce is lesse then a whole ounce: but also of hauing in themselues a lesse proportion of weight to theire bulke then they had; as a pound of corke, is in regard of its magnitude lighter then a pound of lead: so as they conclude, that the thing whose continued partes are the lesser, is in its owne nature the lighter and the rarer; and other thinges whose continued partes are greater, they be heauier and denser.

5 1.21But this discourse reacheth not home: for by it, the weight of any body being discouered by the proportion it hath to the medium, in which it descendeth, it must euer suppose a body lighter then it selfe in which it may sinke and goe to the bottome. Now of that lighter body, I enquire what maketh it be so; and you must answere by what you haue concluded, that it is lighter then the other, because the partes of it are lesse, and more seuered from one an other: for if they be as close together, theire diuision auayleth them nothing, since thinges sticking fast together, do worke as if they were but one, and so a pound of lead though it be filed into small dust, if it be compacted hard together, will sinke as fast as if it were in one bulke.

Now then allowing the litle partes to be seperated, I aske, what other body filleth vp the spaces betweene those litle partes of the medium in which your heauy body descended? For if the partes of water are more seuered then the partes of lead, there must be some other substance to keepe the partes of it a sunder: lett vs suppose this to be ayre: and I aske, whether an equall part of ayre, be as heauy as so much water? or whether it be not? If you say, it is; then the com∣pound of water and ayre, must be as heauy as lead; seeing that theire partes, one with an other, are as much compacted as the partes of lead are. For there is no difference whether those bodies, whose litle partes are compacted together be of the same substance, or of diuers, or whether the one be diuided into smaller partes then the other, or no, (so they be of equall weights) in regard of making the whole equally heauy: as you may experience, if you mingle pinnedust with a sand of equall weight, though it be beaten into farre smaller

diuisions then the pinnedust, and putt them in a bagge together.

But if you say that ayre is not so heauy as water; it must be, because euery part of ayre hath againe its partes more seuered by some other body, then the partes of water are seuered by ayre. And then, I make the same instance of that body which seuereth the partes of ayre. And so, att the last (since there can not actually be an infinite processe of bodies one lighter then an other) you must come to one, whose litle partes filling the pores and spaces between the partes of the others, haue no spaces in themselues to be filled vp.

But as soone as you acknowledge such a body to be lighter and rarer then all the rest, you contradict and destroy all you said before. For by reason of its hauing no pores, it followeth by your rule, that the litle partes of it must be as heauy, if not heauier, then the litle partes of the same bignesse of that body whose pores it filleth; and conse∣quently it is proued by the experience we alleadged of pinnedust mingled with sand that the litle partes of it, can not by theire min∣gling with the partes of the body in which it is immediately contai∣ned, make that lighter then it would be if these litle partes were not mingled with it. Nor would both theire partes mingled with the body which immediately containeth them, make that body lighter. And so proceeding on in the same sort through all the mingled bodies, till you come to the last, that is immediately mingled with water; you will make water nothing the lighter, for being mingled with all these; and by consequence it should be as heauy and as dense as lead.

Now that which deceiued the authors of this opiniion, was that they had not a right intelligence of the causes which made litle partes of bodies (naturally heauy) descend slowly, in regard of the velocity of greater partes of the same bodies descending: the doctrine of which we intend to deliuer hereafter.

Others therefore perceiuing this rule to fall short,6 1.22 haue endeauou∣red to piece it out by the mixtion of vacuity among bodies; belieuing it is that which maketh one rarer then an other. Which mixtion they do not putt alwayes immediate to the maine body they consider: but if it haue other rarer and lighter bodies mingled with it, they con∣ceiue this mixtion immediate onely to the rarest, or lightest. As for example; a crystall being lighter and consequently rarer then a dia∣mond, they will not say that there is more vacuity in a crystall then in a diamond; but that the pores of a crystall are greater, and that con∣sequently there is more ayre in a crystall to fill the pores of it, then is in a diamond; and the vacuities are in the ayre, which abounding in a crystall, more then in a diamond, maketh that lighter and rarer then this, by the more vacuities that are in the greater Quantity of ayre which is migled with it.

But against this supposition, a powerfull aduersary is vrged: for Aristotle, in his 4^th booke of Physickes, hath demonstrated that

there can be no motion in vacuity. It is true, they endeauour to euade his demonstration (as not reaching home to theire supposition) by acknowledging it to be an euident one in such a vacuity as he there speaketh of; which he supposed to be so great a one that a body may swimme in it as in an ocean, and not touch or be neere any other body: whereas this opinion excludeth all such vast inanity, and admitteth no vacuities but so litle ones as no body whatsoeuer can come vnto but will be bigger then they; and consequently, must on some side or other touch the corporeall partes which those vacuities diuide; for they are the seperations of the least partes, that are, or can be, actually diuided from one an other: which partes, must of necessity touch one an other on some side; or else, they could not hang together to compose one substance; and therefore, the diuiding vacuities, must be lesse then the diuided partes. And thus, no body will euer be in danger of floating vp and downe without touching any thing: which is the difficulty that Aristotle chiefely impugneth.

7 1.23I confesse I should be very glad that this supposition might serue our turne, and saue the Phoenomena that appeare among bodies, through theire variety of Rarity and Density: which if it might be, then would I straight go on to the inquiring after what followed out of this ground, as Astronomers (to vse our former similitude) do cal∣culate the future appearances of the celestiall bodies out of those mo∣tions and orbes they assigne vnto the heauens. For as this apprehen∣sion of vacuity in bodies is very easy and intelligibile: so the other (which I conceiue to be the truth of the case) is exceedingly abstrac∣ted, and one of the most difficult pointes in all the Metaphysickes: and therefore I would (if it were possible) auoyde touching vpon it in this discourse, which I desire should be as plaine and easy, and as much remooued from scholasticke termes, as may be.

But indeed, the inconueniences that follow out of this supposition of vacuities, are so great, as it is impossible by any meanes to slide them ouer.* 1.24 As for example; lett vs borrow of Galilaeus the proportion of weight betweene water and ayre. He sheweth vs how the one is 400 times heauyer then the other. And Marinus Ghetaldus teacheth vs that gold is 19 times heauyer then water: so that gold must be 7600 times heauyer then ayre.* 1.25 Now then considering that nothing in a body can weigh, but the solide partes of it; it followeth that the proportion of the partes of gold in a sphere of an inch diameter, is to the partes of ayre of a like dimension as 7600 is to one. Therefore in ayre it selfe the vacuities that are supposed in it, will be to the solide partes of it in the same proportion as 7600 to one. Indeed, the pro∣portion of difference will be greater: for euen in gold many vacuities must be admitted, as appeareth by the heating of it which sheweth that in euery the least part, it is exceeding porous. But according to this rate, without pressing the inconuenience any further; the ayre will

by this reckoning appeare to be like a nett, whose holes and distan∣ces, are to the lines and thriddes, in the proportion of 7600 to one; and so, would be lyable to haue litle partes of its body swimme in those greater vacuities; contrary to what they striue to auoyde. Which would be exceedingly more, if we found on the one side any bodies heauyer and denser then gold, and that were so solide as to exclude all vacuities; and on the other side should ballance them with such bodies as are lighter and rarer then ayre; as fire is, and as some will haue the aether to be. But already the disproportion is so great, and the vacuity so strangely exceedeth the body in which it is, as were too great an absurdity to be admitted.

And besides, it would destroy all motion of small bodies in the ayre, if it be true (as Aristotle hath demonstrated in the 4^th booke of his Physickes) that motion can not be made, but among bodies, and not in vacuo.

Againe, if rarity were made by vacuity, rare bodies could not be gathered together, without loosing theire rarity and becoming dense. The contrary of which, we learne by constant experience; as when the smith and glassemender, driue theire white and fury fires, (as they terme them;) when ayre pierceth most in the sharpe wind; and ge∣nerally we see that more of the same kind of rare bodies, in lesse place, worketh most efficaciously according to the nature that resulteth out of that degree of rarity. Which argueth, that euery litle part is as rare as it was before (for else it would loose the vertue of working ac∣cording to that nature;) but that by theire being crowded together, they exclude all other bodies that before did mediate betweene the litle partes of theire maine body; and so, more partes being gotten together in the same place then formerly there were, they worke more forcibly.

Thirdly; if such vacuities were the cause of rarity; it would follow that fluide bodies being rarer then solide ones, they would be of themselues standing, like nettes or cobbewebbes: whereas contra∣riwise, we see theire natures are to runne together, and to fill vp euery litle creeke and corner: which effect, following out of the very na∣ture of the thinges themselues; must needes exclude vacuities out of that nature.

And lastly; if it be true (as we haue shewed in the last Chapter) that there are no actuall partes in Quantity; it followeth of necessity, that all Quantity must of it sel••e be one; as Metaphysickes teach vs: and then, no distance can be admitted betweene one Quantity and an other.

And truly, if I vnderstand Aristotle right; he hath perfectly de∣monstrated, that no vacuity is possible in nature; neither great nor litle: and consequently, the whole machine raysed vpon that suppo∣sition, must be ruinous. His argument is to this purpose. What is

nothing, can not haue partes: but vacuum is nothing (because as the aduersaries conceiue it, vacuum is the want of a corporeall substance in an enclosing body, within whose sides nothing is, whereas a cer∣taine body might be contained whithin them, as if in a paile or bowle of a gallon, there were neither milke, nor water, nor ayre, nor any other body whatsoeuer) therefore, vacuum can not haue partes. Yet those who admitt it do putt it expressely for a space; which doth essentially include partes. And thus they putt two contradictories, nothing and partes, that is, partes and no partes; or something and nothing; in the same proposition. And this, I conceiue to be abso∣lutely vnauoydable.

8 1.26For these reasons therefore, I must entreate my readers fauour, that he will allow me to touch vpon metaphysickes a litle more then I desire or intended: but it shall be no otherwise, then as is said, of the dogges by the riuer Nilus side; who being thirsty, lappe hastily of the water, onely to serue theire necessity as they runne along the shore. Thus then; remembring how wee determined that Quantity is Diuisibility: it followeth, that if besides Quantity there be a sub∣stance or thing which is diuisible; that thing, if it be condistin∣guished from its Quantity or Diuisibility, must of it selfe be indiui∣sible: or (to speake more properly) it must be, not diuisible. Putt then such substance to be capable of the Quantity of the whole world or vniuerse: and consequently, you putt it of it selfe indifferent to all, and to any part of Quantity: for in it, by reason of the negation of Diuisibility, there is no variety of partes, whereof one should be the subiect of one part of Quantity, or another of another; or that one should be a capacity of more, another of lesse.

This then being so, wee haue the ground of more or lesse propor∣tion between substance and quantity: for if the whole quantity of the vniuerse bee putt into it, the proportion of Quantity to the capacity of that substance, will bee greater then if but halfe that quantity were imbibed in the same substance. And because proportion changeth on both sides by the single change of onely one side: it followeth that in the latter, the proportion of that substance to its Quantity, is greater; and that in the former, it is lesse; howbeit the substance in it selfe be indiuisible.

What wee haue said thus in abstract, will sinke more easily into vs if we apply it to some particular bodies here among vs, in which we see a difference of Rarity and Density; as to ayre, water gold, or the like; and examine if the effects that happen to them, do follow out of this disproportion betweene substance and Quantity. For example lett vs conceiue that all the Quantity of the world were in one vni∣forme substance, then the whole vniuerse would be in one and the same degree of Rarity ad Density: lett that degree, be the degree of water; it will then follow, that in what part soeuer there happeneth

to be a change from this degree, that part will not haue that propor∣tion of quantity to its substance, which the quantity of the whole world had to the presupposed vniforme substance. But if it happeneth to haue the degree of rarity which is in the ayre, it will then haue more quantity in proportion to its substance, then would be due vnto it according to the presupposed proportion of the quantity of the vni∣uerse to the foresaid vniforme substance; which in this case is as it were the standard to try all other proportions by. And contrariwise, if it happeneth to haue the degree of Density which is found in Earth or in gold; then it will haue lesse quantity in proportion to its substance, then would be due vnto it according to the fore said proportion, or common standard.

Now to proceede from hence, with examining the effects which result out of this compounding of Quantity with substance, we may first consider, that the definitions which Aristotle hath giuen vs of Rarity and Density, are the same wee driue att: hee telleth vs, that that body is rare whose quantity is more, and its substance lesse; that, contrariwise dense, where the substance is more and the quantity lesse. Now if wee looke into the proprieties of the bodies wee haue named, or of any others, wee shall see them all follow cleerely out of these definitions. For first, that one is more diffused, an other more compacted; such diffusion and compaction, seeme to be the very na∣tures of Rarity and Density, supposing them to be such as we haue defined them to be; seeing that, substance is more diffused by hauing more partes, or by being in more partes; and is more compacted by the contrary. And then, that rare bodies are more diuisible then dense ones, you see is coincident into the same conceit with their diffusion and compaction. And from hence againe it followeth, that they are more easily diuided in great, and likewise, that they are by the force of naturall Agents diuisible into lesser partes: for both these (that is faci∣lity of being diuided, and easye diuisibility into lesser partes) are con∣tained in being more diuisible; or in more enioying the effect of quan∣tity, which is diuisibility. From this againe followeth, that in rare bo∣dies there is lesse resistance to the motion of an other body through it, then in dense ones; and therefore a like force passeth more easily through the one, then through the other. Againe; rare bodies are more penetratiue and actiue then dense ones; because being (by theire ouerproportion of quantity) easily diuisible into small partes, they can runne into euery litle pore, and so incorporate themselues better into other bodies, then more dense ones can. Light bodies likewise must be rarer, because most diuisible, if other circumstances concurre equally.

Thus you see decyphered vnto your hand, the first diuision of bodies flowing from Quantity as it is ordained to substance for the composition of a bodie: for since the definition of a body is; A thing

which hath partes; and quantity is that, by which it hath partes; and the first propriety of quantity is, to be bigger or lesse; and consequently the first differences of haueing partes, are to haue bigger or lesse, more or fewer; what diuision of a body can be more simple, more plaine, or more immediate, then to diuide it by its Quantity as making it to haue bigger or lesse, more or fewer partes in proportion to its substance?

Neither can I iustly be blamed for touching thus on Metaphy∣sickes, to explicate the nature of these two kindes of bodies; for Meta∣physickes being the science aboue Physickes, it belongeth vnto her to declare the principles of Physickes: of which, these wee haue now in hand, are the very first steppe. But much more, if wee consider that the composition of quantity with substance, is purely Metaphysicall; wee must necessarily allow the inquiry into the nature of Rarity and Density, to be wholy Metaphysicall; seeing that the essence of Ra∣rity and Density, standeth in the proportion of quantity to substance; if we beleeue Aristotle, (the greatest master that euer was, of finding out definitions and notions) and trust to the vncontroulable reasons we haue brought in the precedent discourse.

9 1.27This explication of Rarity and Density, by the composition of substance with quantity, may peraduenture giue litle satisfaction vnto such as are not vsed to raise theire thoughts aboue Physicall and naturall speculations: who are apt to conceiue, there is no other com∣position or resolution, but such as our senses shew vs in compounding and diuiding of bodies according to quantatiue partes. Now this obligeth vs to shew that such a kind of composition and diuision as this, must necessarily be allowed of, euen in that course of doctrine which seemes most contrary to ours. To which purpose, lett vs sup∣pose that the position of Democritus or of Epicurus is true; to witt, that the originall composition of all bodies, is out of very litle ones of various figures; all of them, indiuisible, not Mathematically, but Physically: and that this infinite number of indiuisibles, doth floate in an immense ocean of vacuum or imaginary space. In this position, lett any man who conceiueth theire groundes may be maintained, explicate how one of these litle bodies is mooued. For, taking two partes of vacuum, in which this body successiuely is; it is cleare, that really, and not onely in my vnderstanding, it is a difference in the said body, to be now here, now there: wherefore, when the body is gone thither, the notion of being here, is no more in the body; and consequently, is diuided from the body. And therefore, when the body was here; there was a composition, betweene the body, and its being here: which, seeing it can not be betwixt two partes of Quan∣tity, must of necessity be such a kind of composition, as wee putt betweene quantity and substance. And certainely, lett men wracke theire braines neuer so much, they will neuer be able to shew how motion is made, without some such composition and diuision, vpon what groundes soeuer they proceede.

And if then they tell vs, that they vnderstand not how there can be a diuisibility betweene substance and quantity; wee may reply, that to such a diuisibility two thinges are required; first that the no∣tions of substance and quantity be different; secondly, that the one of them may be changed without the other. As for the first, it is most euident wee make an absolute distinction betweene theire two no∣tions; both, when wee say that Socrates was bigger a man then a boy; and when wee conceiue that milke or water whiles it boyleth, or wine whiles it worketh, so as they runne ouer the vessels they are in; are greater and possesse more place then when they were coole and quiet, and filled not the vessell to the brimme. For howsoeuer, witty expli∣cations may seeme to euade, that the same thing is now greater, now lesser; yett it can not be auoyded, but that ordinary men, who looke not into Phylosophy, do both conceiue it to be so, and in theire fa∣miliar discourse expresse it so; which they could not do, if they had not different notions of the substance, and of the quantity of the thing they speake of. And though wee had no such euidences, the very names and definitions of them would putt it beyond strife: all men calling substance, a thing; quantity, biggenesse: and referring a thing, to Being; as who would say; that which is: but biggenesse, to some other of like nature, vnto which it is compared; as, that it is halfe as bigge, twice as bigge, or the like.

This then being vnauoydable, that the notions are distinguished; there remaineth no difficulty, but onely in the second, namely that the one may be changed, and the other not. Which reason and de∣monstration do conuince, as wee haue shewed. Wherefore, if any shall yett further reply, that they do not vnderstand how such change is made; wee shall answere, by asking them whether they know; how the change of being sometimes here, sometimes there is made by locall motion in vacuum, without a change in the body mooued. Which question, if they can not satisfy; they must eyther deny that there is any locall motion in vacuum; or else admitt a change in quan∣tity, without a change in substance; for this latter is as euidently true, as they suppose the former to be; though the manner how they are effected, be alike obscure in both, and the reason of the obscurity, the same in both.

With which wee will conclude the present Chapter; adding onely this note. That if all Physicall thinges and naturall changes do pro∣ceede out of the constitution of rare and dense bodies in this manner, as we do putt them, (as the worke wee haue in hand intendeth to shew) then, so manifold effects will so conuince the truth of this do∣ctrine which wee haue declared, that there can remaine no doubt of it: neither can there be any, of the diuisibility of quantity from substance; without which, this doctrine can not consist. For it can not be vnderstood, how there is a greater proportion of quantity then of

substance; or contrariwise, of substance then of quantity; if there be not a reall diuisibility betweene quantity and substance. And much lesse can it be conceiued, that the same thing hath att one time a greater proportion of quantity, and att an other time a lesse; if the greater or lesser proportion, be not seperable from it; that is, if there be not a diuisibility betwixt it and substance, as well as there are different notions of them. Which to prooue by the proper prin∣ciples belonging to this matter, would require vs to make a greater inroade into the very bowels of Metaphysickes, and to take a larger circuite, then is fitting eyther for the subiect, or for the intended breuity of this treatise.

THE FOVRTH CHAPTER. Of the foure first qualities: and of the foure Elements.

1 1.28THE subiect of our discourse hitherto, hath been three simple notions; Quantity, Rarity, and Density. Now it shall be to inquire if by compounding these with grauity or weight (which is one of the specieses of Quantity aboue mentioned and of which I shall speake at lardge hereafter) wee may begett any further qualities, and so produce the foure first bodies, called Ele∣ments. In imitation of Logitians, who by compounding such propo∣sitions as of themselues are euident to mans nature assoone as they are proposed, do bring forth new knowledges: which thriddes they still entermixe and weaue together, till they grow into a faire piece. And thus the sciencies tehy so much labour for, and that haue so great an extent, do result out of few and simple notions in theire beginninges.

But before wee fall to mingling and comparing them together, I thinke it will not be amisse to sett downe, and determine what kind of thinges wee meane by rare and what by dense; to the end that when the names are agreed vpon, wee may slippe into no error by mistaking them. So then, although there be seuerall considerations, in regard of which, rarity and density may be differently attributed to bodies: yet because mans discerning them, to be able to discourse accordingly of them, is the principall respect for which theire denominations are to be allotted them: wee may with reason call those thinges dense, wherein a man findeth a sensible difficulty to part them; and those rare, where the resistance is imperceptible.

And vnto these two notions of rarity and density, wee must allow a great latitude, farre from consisting in an indiuisible state; for seeing that rarefaction maketh a lesser body equall to a bigger; and that all inequality betwixt two bodies, hath the conditions of a body; it followeth that the excesse of one body ouer an other, consisteth of

infinite partes into which it might be diuided: and consequently, that what is rarified, passeth as many degrees as the inequality or excesse hath partes. And the same law being in condensation, both dense and rare thinges must be acknowledged to be capable of infinite variety, and diuersity of states in regard of more and lesse in the same kind.

These thinges being premised;2 1.29 and calling to mind that it is the nature of density to make the partes of a dense thing compact, and sticke together, and be hardly diuisible; and on the contrary side, that it is the nature of rarity, to diffuse and extend a rare thing, and to prepare and approach it to diuision, according to the proportion of the degree of rarity which it hath; and that weight doth abound where there is excesse of density, and is very litle or none in excesse of rarity: wee may now begin in our imagination to putt these qualities into the scales one against an other, to see what effects they produce in bodies. And first, lett vs weigh grauity against density or sticking together of partes: which sticking or compactednesse being naturall to density, requireth some excesse of grauity in proportion to the density, or some other outward violence, to breake it. If then in a dense body the grauity ouercome the density, and do make the partes of it breake a sunder, it will draw them downewardes towards the center that grauity tendeth vnto, and will neuer lett them rest till they come thither, vnlesse some impediment meete them by the way and stoppe theire iourney: so that such a body will, as neere as possibly it can, lye in a perfect sphericall figure in respect of the center; and the partes of it will be changed and altered, and thrust on any side that is the ready way thither; so that by the force of grauity working vpon it, it will runne as farre as it meeteth with nothing to hinder it from attaining this sphericall superficies. Wherefore such bodies, for the most part, haue noe settled outside of theire owne; but do receiue theire figure and limits from such letts as hinder them from attaining to that sphericalnesse they ayme att.

Now Aristotle (whose definitions, are in these matters generally receiued, as fully expressing the notions of mankind) telleth vs, and our owne experience confirmeth it, that wee vse to call those thinges moist, which runne in such sort as wee haue here sett downe; and that wee terme those thinges dry, which haue a consistence within themselues; and which to enioy a determinate figure, do not require the stoppe or hinderance of an other body to limit and circle them in: which will be the nature of those that haue a greater pro∣portion of density in respect of theire grauity.

And thus, out of the comparison of density with weight, wee haue found two more qualities then wee yett had mett withall, namely wettenesse and drynesse. For although a body be dense, (which of its owne nature, singly considered, would preserue the continuity of its partes, as making the body hardly diuisible; whereby it would be

dry) yet if the grauity that worketh vpon it, be in proportion greater then the density; it will seuer the partes of it, and make them runne to the center, and so become fluide and moist: though not in the eminentest degree that may be of fluidity and moisture; by reason that if the like ouerproportion of grauity happen in a rare body, it will there more powerfully worke its effect, then it can in a dense body; because a rare body will more easily obey, and yield to the grauity that mastereth it, then a dense one will; and consequently, will be more fluide and moist then it.

Now on the other side, in weighing rarity against grauity; if it happen that the rarity ouercome the grauity,3 1.30 then the grauity will not change the figure of a body so proportioned, but what figure it hath from its proper naturall causes, the same will still remaine with it: and consequently, such a body will haue termes of its owne and will not require an ambient body to limit, and circle it in: which nature, wee call dry.

But if the proportion of the grauity be the greater and do ouer∣come the rarity; then, by how much the rarity is greater, so much the more will the grauity force it, to apply it selfe equally and on all sides to the center: and such a body will the more easily receiue its figure from an other, and will be lesse able to consist of it selfe: which pro∣perties, wee attribute to wettenesse or moisture. So that it appeareth, how the qualities of wett and dry, which first wee found in thinges that were dense, are also common to that nature of bodies, which wee terme rare.

And thus, by our first inquiry after what kind of bodies do result out of the compounding of rarity and density with grauity, wee discouer foure different sortes: some dense ones that are dry, and others likewise dense that are moist: then againe, some rare ones that are likewise moist, and other rare ones that are dry.

But wee must not rest here: lett vs proceede a litle further, to search what other properties these foure kindes of bodies will haue;4 1.31 which wee shall best discouer, if wee apply them seuerally to some other compounded body (of which nature, are all those wee conuerse with or see) and then consider the effects which these do worke vpon it. To beginne with that, which wee said, is so excessiuely rare that gra∣uity hath no power ouer it. If wee looke vpon the multitude of litle partes it may be diuided into, whereof euery one will subsist by it selfe (for wee haue already prooued it dry) and then suppose them to be mooued with force and strength against the body wee apply them to: it must necessarily follow, that they will forcibly gett into the porousnesse of it, and passe with violence betweene part and part, and of necessity seperate the partes of that thing one from an other; as a knife or wedge doth a solide substance, by hauing theire thinnest partes pressed into it: so that if in the compounded thing, some partes

be more weighty, others more light, (as of necessity there must be) the heauiest will all fall lowest, the lightest will fly vppermost, and those which are of a meane nature betweene the two extremes, will remaine in the middle. In summe, by this action of an extreme rare body vpon a compounded one, all the partes of one kind that were in the compounded one, will be gathered into one place; and those of diuers kindes into diuers places: which is the notion whereby Aristotle hath expressed the nature of heate; and is an effect, which dayly experience in burning and boyling, teacheth vs to proceede from heate. And therefore wee can not doubt, but that such extreme rare bodies are as well hoat as dry.

On the other side, if a dense thing be applyed to a compound, it will (because it is weighty) presse it together: and if that application be continued on all sides, so that noe part of the body that is pressed be free from the siege of the dense body that presseth it, it will forme it into a narrower roome, and keepe in the partes of it, not permitting any of them to slippe out. So that what thinges soeuer it findeth within its power to master, be they light or heauy, or of what contrary natures soeuer, it compresseth them as much as it can, and draweth them into a lesse compasse, and holdeth them strongly together, making them sticke fast to one an other. Which effect, Aristotle tooke for the proper notion of cold▪ and therefore gaue for definition of the nature of it, that it gathereth thinges of diuers natures: and expe∣rience sheweth vs in freesing, and all great coolinges, that this effect proceedeth from cold.

But if wee examine which of the two sortes of dense bodies (the fluide or the consistent) is most efficacious in this operation;5 1.32 wee shall find that the lesse dense one is more capable of being applyed round about the body it shall besiege; and therefore will stoppe closer euery litle hole of it, and will more easily send subtile partes into euery litle veine of it; and by consequence, shrinke it vp together and coagulate, and constringe it more strongly, then a body can that is extremely dense; which by reason of its great density, and the stubbornesse of its partes, can not so easily bend and plye them to worke this effect. And therefore, a body that is moderately dense, is colder then an other that is so in excesse; seeing that cold is an actiue or working power, and that which is lesse dense doth excell in working.

On the contrary side, rare bodies being hoat, because theire sub∣tile partes enuironing a compounded body will sinke into the pores of it, and to theire power seperate its partes; it followeth that those wherein the grauity ouercometh the rarity, are lesse hoat then such others as are in the extremity, and highest excesse of rarity: both, because the former are not able to pierce so litle partes of the resisting dense body, as extreme rare ones are; and likewise, because they

more easily take plye by the obstacle of the solide ones they meete with, then these doe.

So that out of this discourse wee gather, that of such bodies that differ precisely by the proportion of Rarity and Density; those which are extremely rare, are in the excesse of heate, and are dry withall: that weighty rare bodies are extremely humide, and meanely hoat: that fluide dense bodies are moist, though not in such excesse as rare ones that are so; but are coldest of any: and lastly, that extreme dense bodies are lesse cold then fluide dense ones, and that they are dry.

6 1.33But whether the extreme dense bodies, be more or lesse dry then such as are extremely rare, remaineth yet to be decided. Which wee shall easily doe, if wee but reflect that it is density which maketh a thing hard to be diuided, and that rarity maketh it easie: for, a faci∣lity to yield vnto diuision, is nothing else but a plyablenesse in the thing that is to be diuided, whereby it easily receiueth the figure, which the thing that diuideth it doth cast it into. Now this plyable∣nesse belongeth more to rare then to dense thinges: and accordingly, wee see fire bend more easily, by the concameration of an ouen, then a stone can be reduced into due figure by hewing. And therefore, since drynesse is a quality that maketh those bodies wherein it rai∣gneth, to conserue themselues in theire owne figure and limits, and to resist the receiuing of any from an other body; it is manifest that those are dryest, wherein these effects are most seene; which is, in dense bodies: and consequently, excesse of drynesse must be allotted vnto them, to keepe company with theire moderate coldnesse.

7 1.34Thus wee see that the number of Elements assigned by Aristotle, is truly and exactly determined by him; and that there can be neither more nor lesse of them; and that theire qualities are rightly allotted to them: which to settle more firmely in our mindes, it will not be misse-spent time to summe vp in short, the effect of what wee haue hitherto said to bring vs vnto this conclusion. First, wee shewed that a body is made, and constituted a body by quantity. Next, that the first diuision of bodies is into rare and dense ones; as differing onely by hauing more and lesse quantity. And lastly, that the coniunction of grauity with these two, breedeth two other sortes of combinations: each of which is also twofold; the first sort, concerning rarity; out of which ariseth one extremely hoat and moderately dry, and an other extremely humide and moderately hoat: the second sort, concerning density; out of which, is produced one that is extremely cold and moderatly wett, and an other extremely dry and moderatly cold. And these are the combinations whereby are constituted, fire, ayre, water, and earth.

So that wee haue thus, the proper notions of the foure Elements; and haue both them and theire qualities driuen vp and resolued into theire most simple principles: which are, the notions of Quantity,

and of the two most simple differences of quantatiue thinges, Rarity and Density. Beyond which, mans witt can not penetrate; nor can his wishes ayme att more in this particular: seeing he hath attained to the knowledge af what they are, and of what maketh them, be so, and that it is impossible they should be otherwise: and this, by the most simple and first principles, which enter into the composition of theire nature. Out of which it is euident, that these foure bodies are Elements: since they can not be resolued into any others, by way of physicall composition; themselues, being constituted by the most simple differences of a body. And againe, all other bodies whatsoeuer must of necessity, be resolued into them, for the same reason; because no bodies can be exempt from the first differencies of abody. Since then, wee meane by the name of an Element, a body not composed of any former bodies, and of which all other bodies are composed, wee may rest satisfyed that these are rightly so named.

But whether euery one of these foure elements,8 1.35 do comprehend vnder its name one onely lowest species, or many (as, whether there be one onely species of fire, or seuerall; and the like of the rest) wee intend not here to determine. Yet wee note, that there is a greate latitude in euery kind; seeing that, Rarity and Density (as wee haue said before) are as diuisible as quantity. Which latitudes, in the bodies wee conuerse withall, are so limited that what maketh it selfe and other thinges be seene (as being accompanied by light) is called fire. What admitteth the illuminatiue action of fire, and is not seene, is cal∣led ayre. What admitteh the same action, and is seene (in the ranke of Elements) is called water. And what through the density of it ad∣mitteth not that action, but absolutely reflecteth it, is called earth.

And out of all we said of these foure Elements, it is manifest there can not be a fifth: as is to be seene att large in euery Aristotelian Philosopher that writeth of this matter. I am not ignorant that there are sundry obiections vsed to be made, both against these notions of the first qualities, and against this diuision of the Elements: but because they, and theire solutions, are to be found in euery ordinary Philosopher; and that they be not of any greate difficulty; and that the handling them, is too particular for the designe of this discourse, and would make it too prolixe; I referre the Reader to seeke them for his satisfaction, it those authors that treate physickes professedly, and haue deliuered a compleate body of Philosophy.

And I will end this Chapter with aduertising him (least I should be misvnderstood) that though my disquisition here hath pitched vpon the foure bodies of fire, ayre, water, and earth; yet it is not my in∣tention to affirme, that those which wee ordinarily call so, and do fall dayly within our vse, are such as I haue here expressed them: or that these Philosophicall ones (which arise purely out of the combination of the first qualities) haue theire residence or consistence in great

bulkes, in any places of the world, be they neuer fo remote: as, fire, in the hollow of the moones orbe; water, in the bottome of the sea; ayre, aboue the cloudes; and earth below the mines. But these no∣tions are onely to serue for certaine Idaeas of Elements; by which, the foure named bodies, and the compoundes of them, may be tryed and receiue theire doome of more or lesse pure and approaching to the nature from whence they haue theire denomination. And yet I will not deny, but that such perfect Elements may be found in some very litle quantities, in mixed bodies: and the greatest aboundance of them, in these foure knowne bodies that we call in ordinary practise, by the names of the pure ones: for they are least compoun∣ded, and approach most to the simplenesse of the Elements. But to determine absolutely theire existence, or not existence, eyther in bulke or in litle partes; dependeth of the manner of action among bodies: which as yet we haue not meddled with.

THE FIFTH CHAPTER. Of the Operations of the Elements in generall. And of their Actiuities compared with one another.

1 1.36HAVING by our former discourse, inquired out what degrees and proportions of rarity and density compounded with grauity, are necessary for the production of the Elements, and first qualities; whose combinations, frame the Elements: our next consideration, in that orderly progresse we haue proposed vnto our selues in this treatise (wherein our ayme is, to follow suc∣cessiuely the steppes, which nature hath printed out vnto vs) will be to examine the operations of the Elements, by which they worke vpon one an other. To which end, lett vs propose to our selues: a rare and a dense body encountring one an other by the impulse of some exterior agent. In this case, it is euident, that since rarity implyeth a greater proportion of Quantity, and quantity is nothing but diuisi∣bility, rare bodies must needes be more diuisible then dense ones: and consequently, when two such bodies are pressed one against an other; the rare body not being able to resist diuision so strongly, as the dense one is; and being not permitted to retire backe, by reason of the externe violence impelling it against the dense body; it fol∣loweth, that the partes of the rare body must be seuered, to lett the dense one come betweene them: and so the rare body becometh diuided, and the dense body the diuider. And by this we see that the notions of diuider and diuisible, do immediately follow rare and dense bodies; and do so much the more properly agree vnto them, as they exceede in the qualities of Rarity and Density.

Likewise, we are to obserue in our case, that the dense or diuiding body must necessarily cutt and enter further and further into the rare or diuided body; and so the sides of it be ioyned successiuely to new and new partes of the rare body that giueth way vnto it, and forsake others it parteth from. Now the rare body being in a determinate situation of the vniuerse, (which we call being in a place, and is a ne∣cessary condition belonging to all particular bodies) and the dense body coming to be within the rare body, whereas formerly it was not so: it followeth, that it looseth the place it had, and gaineth an other. This effect, is that which we call locall motion.

And thus we see,2 1.37 by explicating the manner of this action, that locall motion is nothing else, but the change of that respect or rela∣tion, which the body mooued hath to the rest of the vniuerse, fol∣lowing out of Diuision: and the name of locall motion, formally sig∣nifyeth onely the mutation of a respect to other extrinsecall bodies, subsequent to that diuision. And this is so euident and agreeable to the notions that all mankinde (who, as we haue said, is iudge and master of language) naturally frameth of place; as I wonder much why any will labour to giue other artificiall and intricate doctrine of this that in it selfe is so plaine and cleare. What neede is there to in∣troduce an imaginary space (or with Ioannes Grammaticus, a sub∣sistent quantity) that must runne through all the world; and then entayle to euery body an ayery entity, an vnconceiuable moode, an vnintelligible Vbi, that by an intrinsecall relation to such a part of the imaginary space, must thereunto pinne and fasten the body it is in? It must needes be a ruinous Philosophy that is grounded vpon such a contradiction, as is the allotting of partes vnto that, which the authors themselues (vpon the matter) acknowledge to be meerely nothing; and vpon so weake a shift, (to deliuer them from the incon∣ueniencies that in theire course of doctrine other circumstances bring them vnto) as is the voluntary creating of new imaginary En∣tities in thinges, without any ground in nature for them. Learned men should expresse the aduantage and subtility of theire wittes, by pene∣trating further into nature, then the vulgar; not, by vexing and wresting it from its owne course. They should refine, and carry higher; not contradict and destroy the notions of mankind, in those thinges that it is the competent Iudge of: as it vndoubtedly is, of those primary notions which Aristotle hath ranked vnder ten heades: which (as we haue touched before) euery body can conceiue in grosse: and the worke of schollers, is to explicate them in particular; and not to make the vulgar beleeue they are mistaken, in framing those apprehensions that nature taught them.

Out of that which hath been hitherto resolued it is manifest, that place really and abstracting from the operation of the vnderstanding, is nothing else but the inward superficies of a body that compasseth

and immediately containeth an other. Which ordinarily, being of a rare body that doth not shew it selfe vnto vs (namely, the ayre) is for the most part vnknowne by vs. But because nothing can make im∣pression vpon our mind, and cause vs to giue it a name; otherwise then by being knowne: therefore our vnderstanding to make a compleate notion, must adde something else to this fleeting and vnremarkable superficies that may bring it vnto our acquaintance. And for this end we may consider further, that as this superficies hath in it selfe, so the body enclosed in it gaineth, a certaine determinate respect unto the stable and immoouable bodies that enuiron it. As for example, we vnderstand such a tree to be in such a place, by hauing such and such respects to such a hill neere it, or to such a house that standeth by it, or to such a riuer that runneth vnder it, or to such an immoouable point of the heauen that from the sunnes rising in the aequinox is called east, and such like. To which purpose, it importeth not whether these, that we call immoouable bodies and pointes, be truly so, or do but seeme so to mankinde. For man talking of thinges according to the notions he frameth of them in his minde, (speech, being nothing else but an expression to an other man, of the images he hath within himselfe) and his notions being made according to the seeming of the thinges; he must needes make the same notions, whether the thinges be truly so in themselues, or but seeme to be so, when that seeming or appearance is alwayes constantly the same.

3 1.38Now then, when one body diuiding an other, getteth a new im∣mediate cloathing; and consequently, new respects to the stable and immoouable bodies (or seeming such) that enuiron it; we do vary in our selues the notion we first had of that thing; conceiuing it now accompanied with other circumstances and other respects then for∣merly it had. Which notion we expresse by saying, it hath changed its place; and is now no longer where it was att the first. And this change of place, we call Locall motion: to witt, the departing of a body from that hollow superficies which inclosed it; and its changing vnto an other; whereby it gaineth new respects to those partes of the world that haue, or in some sort may seeme to haue, immobility and fixed stablenesse. So as hence it is euident that the substance of locall motion consisteth in diuision; and that the alteration of Locality fol∣loweth diuision; in such sort as becoming like or vnlike of one wall to an other, followeth the action whereby one of them becometh white.

4 1.39And therefore in nature we are not to seeke for any entity or spe∣ciall cause of applying the mooued body to a place as place, (which is but a respect consequent to the effect of diuision) but onely to con∣sider what reall and physicall action vniteth it to that other body, which is called its place, and truly serueth for that effect. And conse∣quently, they who thinke they haue discouered a notable subtility by bringing in an Entity to vnite a body to its place, haue strained

beyond theire strength, and haue grasped but a shadow. Which will appeare yet more euident, if they but marke well how nothing is di∣uisible, but what of it selfe (abstracting from diuision) is one. For the nature of diuision, is the making of many; which implyeth, that what is to be diuided, must of necessity be not many before it be diuided. Now quantity being the subiect of diuision, it is euident that purely of it selfe, and without any force or adioyned helpes, it must needes be one, wheresoeuer some outward agent doth not introduce multi∣plicity vpon it. And whensoeuer other thinges worke vpon quantity as quantity, it is not the nature and power of theire operation, to pro∣duce vnity in it and make it one; for it is already one: but contrariwise, the immediate necessary effect that floweth from them in this case, is to make one quantity many, according to the circumstances that accompany the diuider, and that which is to be diuided. And there∣fore, although wee may seeke causes why some one thing sticketh faster together then some other, yet to aske absolutely why a body sticketh together, were preiudiciall to the nature of quantity; whose essence is, to haue partes sticking together, or rather, to haue such vnity, as without it, all diuisibility must be excluded.

Out of which discourse it followeth, that in locall motion we are to looke only for a cause or power to diuide, but not for any to vnite. For the very nature of quantity vniteth any two partes that are in∣distant from one an other, without needing any other cement to glew them together: as we see the partes of water and all liquide substances, do presently vnite themselues to other partes of like bodies, when they meete with them, and to solide bodies if they chance to be next vnto them. And therefore it is vaine to trouble our heades with Vnions and imaginary Moodes to vnite a body to the place it is in, when theire owne nature maketh them one as soone as they are immediate to each other. And accordingly, if when we see a boule mooue, we would examine the causes of that motion, we must consider the quantity of ayre or water it maketh to breake from the partes next vnto it, to giue place vnto it selfe: and not speculate vpon an intrinsecall relation from the body to a certaine part of the imaginary space they will haue to runne through all thinges. And by ballancing that quantity of ayre or water which it diuideth, we may arriue to make an estimate of what force the boule needeth to haue for its motion.

Thus hauing declared that the locality of motion,5 1.40 is but an ex∣trinsecall denomination, and no reality in the thing mooued; wee may now cast an eye vpon a vast consequence that may be deduced out of what wee haue hitherto said. For if we consider the nature of a body, that is, that a body is a body by quantity; and that the formall notion of quantity is nothing else but diuisibility; and that the adaequate act of diuisibility, is diuision: it is euident, there can be no

other operation vpon quantity, nor (by consequence) among bodies, but must eyther be such diuision, as we haue here explicated, or what must necessarily follow out of such diuision. And diuision, (as we haue euen now explicated) being locall motion; it is euident, that all operations among bodies, are either locall motion, or such as follow out of locall motion. Which conclusion, howsoeuer vnex∣pected, and may att the first hearing appeare a Paradoxe; will neuer∣thelesse by the ensuing worke receiue such euidence, as it can not be doubted of; and that, not onely by force of argumentation and by necessity of notions (as is already deduced) but also by experience, and by declaration of particulars as they shall occurre.

6 1.41But now to apply what we haue said, to our proposed subiect: it is obuious to euery man, that seeing the diuider is the agent in diuision and in locall motion; and that dense bodies, are by theire nature diuiders; the earth, must in that regard be the most actiue among the Elements, since it is the most dense of them all. But this seemeth to be against the common iudgement of all the searchers of nature; who vnanimously agree that fire is the most actiue Element. As also, it seemeth to impugne what we our selues haue determined, when we said, there were two actiue qualities, heate and cold, whereof the first was in its greatest excesse in fire, and the latter in water.

To reconcile these, we are to consider that the action of cold in its greatest height, is composed of two partes; the one is a kind of pressing; and the other, is penetration which requireth applicability. Of which two, the former ariseth out of density, but the latter, out of moderation of density, as I haue declared in the precedent Chapter. Wherefore the former will exceede more in earth;* 1.42 though the whole be more eminent in water. For though considering onely the force of moouing (which is a more simple and abstracted notion, then the determination and particularisation of the Elements, and is prece∣dent to it) therein earth hath a precedency ouer water: yet taking the action as it is determined to be the action of a particular Element, and as it concurreth to the composition or dissolution of mixed bo∣dies; in that consideration (which is the chiefe worke of Elements, and requireth an intime application of the Agents) water hath the principality and excesse ouer earth.

7 1.43As for fire it is more actiue then eyther of them; as it will appeare clearely if we consider, how when fire is applyed to fewell, and the violence of blowing is added to its owne motion; it incorporateth it selfe with the fewell, and in a small time conuerteth a great part of it into its owne nature, and shattereth the rest into smoake and ashes. All which proceedeth from the exceeding smallnesse and drynesse of the partes of fire; which being mooued with violence against the fewell, and thronging in multitudes vpon it; they easily pierce the porous substance of it, like so many extreme sharpe needles.

And that the force of fire is as greate and greater, then of earth, we may gather out of our former discourse; where hauing resolued, that density is the vertue by which a body is moued and doth cutt the medium; and againe considering that celerity of motion, is a kind of density, (as we shall by and by declare) it is euident, that since blowing must of necessity presse violently and with a rapide motion, the partes of fire against the fewell, and so condense them exceedingly there, (both by theire celerity, and by bringing very many partes together there;) it must needes also giue them actiuity and vertue to pierce the body they are beaten against.

Now, that celerity is a kind of density, will appeare by comparing theire natures. For if we consider that a dense body may be dilated so as to possesse and fill the place of a rare body that exceeded it in bignesse; and by that dilatation, may be diuided into as many and as greate partes as the rare body was diuisible into; wee may conceiue that the substance of those partes, was by a secret power of nature foulded vp in that litle extension in which it was before. And euen so, if we reflect vpon two riuers of equall channels and depths, whereof the one goeth swifter then the other; and determine a certaine length of each channell, and a common measure of time: wee shall see that in the same measure of time, there passeth a greater bulke of water in the designed part of the channell of the swifter streame, then in the designed part of the slower, though those partes be equall.

Neither doth it import, that in velocity we take a part of time, whereas in density it seemeth that an instant is sufficient; and conse∣quently, there would be no proportion betweene them. For knowing Philosophers do all agree that there are no instants in time, and that the apprehension of them proceedeth meerely from the manner of our vnderstanding. And as for partes in time, there can not be assumed any so litle, in which the comparison is not true: and so in this regard, it is absolutely good.

And if the Reader haue difficulty att the disparity of the thinges which are pressed together in density and in celerity; for that in den∣sity there is onely substance, and in celerity there is also quantity, crowded vp with the substance; he will soone receiue satisfaction, when he shall consider that this disparity is to the aduantage of what we say, and maketh the nature of density more perfect in celerity, and consequently more powerfull in fire then in earth. Besides, if there were no disparity,8 1.44 it would not be a distinct species of density, but the very same.

By what we haue spoken aboue, it appeareth how fire getteth into fewell; now lett vs consider how it cometh out: for the actiuity of that fierce body, will not lett it lye still and rest, as long as it hath so many enemies round about it to rouse it vp. Wee see then that as soone as it hath incorporated it selfe with the fewell, and is growne

master of it by introducing into it so many of its owne partes, (like so many soldiers, into an enemies towne) they breake out againe on euery side with as much violence as they came in. For by reason of the former resistance of the fewell; theire continuall streaming of new partes vpon it, and one ouertaking an other there where theire iourney was stopped, (all which is encreased by the blowing,) doth so exceedingly condense them into a narrower roome then theire na∣ture affecteth, that as soone as they gett liberty, and grow masters of the fewel, (which att the first was theire prison) they enlarge theire place, and consequently come out and flye abroad; euer ayming right forwardes from the point where they begin theire iourney: for the violence wherewith they seeke to extend themselues into a larger roome, when they haue liberty to do so; will admitt no motion but the shortest, which is, by a straight line.

So that if in our fantasie, we frame an image of a round body all of fire; wee must withall presently conceiue, that the flame pro∣ceeding from it, would diffuse it selfe euery way indifferently in straight lines; in such sort, that the source seruing for the center, there would be round about it an huge sphere of fire and of light; vnlesse some accidentall and externe cause, should determine its motion more to one part then to an other. Which compasse, because it is round, and hath the figure of a sphere, is by Philosophers termed the sphere of its actiuity.

So that it is euident, that the most simple and primary motion of fire, is a fluxe in a direct line from the center of it, to its circumfe∣rence, taking the fewell for its center: as also, that when, it is beaten against a harder body, it may be able to destroy it, although that body be in its owne nature, more dense then fire. For the body against which it presseth; eyther hath pores, or hath none, (as, the Elements haue none:) if it hath pores; then the fire, by reason of the violent motion of the impellent, driueth out the litle bodies which fill vp those pores, and succeeding in theire roome, and being multiplyed there, causeth those effects which in our discourse of the Elemenrs we assigned to heat. But if it haue no pores; it will be eyther rare or dense: if it be rare; then, in case that the force of the impellent be greater then the resistance of the rare body, it will force the fire to diuide the rare body. But if it be dense; as, some atome of earth; then, though att the first it can not diuide it; yet by length of time and by conti∣nuall beating vpon it, it may come to weare off some part of it, the force of the impellent, by litle and litle bending the atome of the earth, by driuing a continuall streame of a lesser part of fire, against some determinate part of the atome. By which word Atome; no body will imagine we intend to expresse a perfect indiuisible, but onely, the least sort of naturall bodies.

THE SIXT CHAPTER. Of Light: what it is.

HAVING said thus much of fire;1 1.45 the neere relation that is betweene it and light, inuiteth vs in the next place to bend our eyes to that which vseth to dazell theires who looke vnwarily vpon it. Certainely, as among all the sensible qualities, it is the principall; so among all corporeall thinges, it seemeth to ayme rightest att a spirituall nature, and to come neerest vnto it. And by some hath beene iudged to be spirituall; if our eyes be capable to see spirits. No meaner man then Aristotle, leadeth the dance to hold light a quality, and mainely to deny it any bodily subsistence. And there hath followed him no fewer, then almost all the world euer since. And the question importeth no lesse, then the whole doctrine of qualities; for admitt light to be a body, and hardly any man will hold vp his hand in defence of any other quality: but if it be a quality; then all others come in by parity and for company.

But before we goe any further, it will not be amisse to expresse what we meane when we reiect qualities; and how, in some sense, we are content to admitt them. According to that description that Philoso∣phers ordinarily do make of them, (and especially the moderne) we can by no meanes giue way vnto them. I confesse ingenuously, I vnderstand not what they meane by them; and I am confident, that neither do they. For the very notion, that theire first wordes seeme to expresse of them, they contradict againe, before they make an end of describing what they are. They will haue them to be reall Entities or Thinges, distinct from the bodies they accompany: and yet, they deny them a subsistence or self being; saying they do but inhere in theire subiect, which supporteth them; or which is all one, that their being is a dependence of a subiect.

If they will reflect vpon what they say, and make theire thoughts and theire wordes agree; they will find, that the first part of theire description, maketh them complete substances; which afterwardes, in wordes they flattely deny: and it is impossible to reconcile these two meaninges. A reall Entity or thing, must necessarily haue an Existence or Being of its owne: which they allow them. And whatsoeuer hath so; becometh a substance: for it subsisteth by its owne Existence; or, (to say plainer) is what it is by its owne Being; and needeth not the existence of an other thing to giue it a Being. And then presently to say that it doth not subsist of it selfe; or that it requireth the sub∣sistence of a substance, to make it Bee; is a pure contradiction to the former.

This ariseth from a wrong notion they make to themselues of

substance, existence and subsistence: and from theire not consulting sufficiently with theire owne thoughts, as well as studying in bookes. They meete there with different termes; by helpe of which, they keepe themselues from contradiction in wordes, but not in effect. If the termes were rightly conceiued, and notions duely fitted to them, (which requireth deepe meditation vpon the thinges them∣selues, and a braine free from all inclination to siding, or affection to opinions for the authors sakes, before they be well vnderstood and examined) many of those disputes would fall to the ground, in which oftentimes both sides loose themselues, and the question, before they come to an end. They are in the darke before they are aware: and then, they make a noise, onely with termes; which like too heauy weapons that they can not weild, do carry theire stroakes beyond theire ayme. Of such nature, are the qualities and moodes, that some moderne Philosophers haue so subtilised vpon. And in that sense, we vtterly deny them: which being a question appertaining to Metaphysickes, it belongeth not to our present purpose to ingage our selues further in it.

2 1.46But, as they are ordinarily vnderstood in common conuersation, we allow them. And our worke is but to explicate and shew the parti∣culars in retaile, of what men naturally speake in grosse. For that, serueth theire turne to know what one an other meaneth: whereas, it belongeth onely vnto a Philosopher, to examine the causes of thinges. Others, are content with the effects: and they speake truly and properly when they designe them. As for example: when they say that fire burneth by a quality of heate that it hath, or that a deye is square by the quality of a cubicall figure that is in it; they speake as they should do. But if others will take occasion vpon this, to lett theire vnderstanding giue a Being vnto these qualities, distinct from the substances in which they conceiue them; there they misse. If we consider the same man hungry, or thirsty, or weary, or sleepy, or standing, or sitting; the vnderstanding presently maketh within it selfe, reall thinges of sleepe, hunger, thirst, wearinesse, standing, and sitting. Whereas indeed, they are but different affections or situa∣tions of the same body. And therefore we must beware of applying these notions of our mind, to the thinges as they are in themselues: as much as we must, of conceiuing those partes to be actually in a continued quantity, whereof we can frame actually distinct notions in our vnderstanding. But as, when ordinary men say, that a yard containeth three feete; it is true in this sense, that three feete may be made of it; but that whiles it is a yard, it is but one quantity or thing, and not three thinges: so, they who make profession to examine rigorously the meaning of wordes, must explicate in what sense it is true that heate and figure (our former examples) are qua∣lities: for such we grant them to be; and in no wise do contradict the

common manner of speech; which entereth not into the Philoso∣phicall nature of them.

Wee say then, that qualities are nothing else but the proprieties, or particularities wherein one thing differeth from an other. And therefore Logicians, call substantiall differencies, substantiall quali∣ties: and say, they are praedicated in Quale quid. But the Praedicament of Quality, is ordered by Aristotle to conclude in it those differences of thinges, which are neither substantiall nor quantitatiue, and yet are intrinsecall and absolute. And so, that which the vnderstanding calleth heate, and maketh a notion of, distinct from the notion of the fire from whence it issueth to burne the wood that is neere it; is nothing else, in the fire, but the very substance of it in such a degree of rarity; or a continuall streame of partes issuing out of the maine stocke of the same fire, that entereth into the wood, and by the ra∣rity of it maketh its way through euery litle part, and diuideth them. All which actions, are comprised by the vnderstanding, vnder one notion of burning: and the power, (which is fire it self) to doe these actions, vnder one notion of the quality of heate: though burning in effect, and explicated Philosophically, be nothing else but the con∣tinuance of those materiall motions we haue euen now described. In like manner, the cubicall figure of a deye, is nothing else but the very body of the deye it selfe, limited by other bodies from being extended beyond those dimensiōs it hath: and so the quality of figure or square∣nesse, which in common speech is said to be in it; is truly, the substance it selfe, vnder such a consideration as is expressed by that word.

But to come to our question,3 1.47 vpon the decision of which depen∣deth the fate of all the fictitious Entities, which in the schooles are termed qualities. The cheife motiues that persuade light to be one of those; may, to my best remembrance, be reduced to fiue seuerall heades. The first is, that it illuminateth the ayre in an instant, and therefore, can not be a body: for a body requirreth succession of time to mooue in: whereas, this seemeth to spread it selfe, ouer the whole hemisphere in an instant; for as farre as the sunne is distant from vs, he no sooner raiseth his head aboue our horizon, but his dartes are in our face: and generally, no imagination can be framed, of any motion it hath in its dilatation.

The next is; that whereas no body can admitt an other into its place, without being remooued away it selfe, to leaue that roome vnto the aduenient one; neuerthelesse, plaine experience sheweth vs dayly, that two lights may be in the same place; and the first is so farre from going away att the coming of the second, that the bringing in of a second candle, and setting it neere the first, en∣creaseth the light in the roome; which diminisheth againe when the second is remooued away. And by the same reason; if light were a body, it should driue away the ayre (which is likewise a body) where∣soeuer

it is admitted: for within the whole sphere of the irradiation of it, there is no point wherein one may sett their eye, but light is found. And therefore; if it were a body, there would be no roome for ayre in that place which light taketh vp. And likewise, we see that it penetrateth all solide bodies, (and particularly glasse,) as experience sheweth, in wood, stone, mettals, and any other body whatsoeuer, if it be made thinne enough.

The third argument, why light can not be a body, is, that if it were so, it can be none other but fire, which is the subtilest, and most ra∣rifyed of all bodies whatsoeuer. But if it be fire, then it can not be without heate: and cōsequently, a man could not feele cold in a sunne∣shining day. The contrary of which is apparent all winter long; whose brighest dayes oftentimes proue the coldest. And Galilaeus with diuers others since, did vse from the sunne to gather light in a kind of stone that is found in Italy (which is therefore by them called, la calamita della luce) and yet no heate appeared in it. A glow worme will giue light to read by, but not to warme you any whitt att all. And it is said, that diamonds and carbuncles will shine like fire in the greatest darkes; yet no man euer complained of being serued by them, as the foolish Satyre was by kissing of a burning coale. On the contrary side; if one consider how great heates may be made without any light att all, how can one be perswaded that light and heate shoud be the same thing, or indeed any whitt of kinne?

The fourth motiue to induce vs to beleeue that light can not be a body; is the suddaine extinction of it, when any solide body cometh betweene the fountaine of it, and the place where he sendeth his beames. What becometh of that great expansion of light that shined all about, when a cloud interposeth it selfe betweene the body of the sunne and the streames that come from it? Or when it leaueth our horizon to light the other world? His head is no sooner out of our sight; but att the instant all his beames are vanished. If that which filleth so vast a roome were a body, some thing would become of it: it would att least be changed to some other substance; and some re∣likes would be left of it; as when ashes remaine of burned bodies: for nature admitteth not the annihilation of any thing.

And in the last place; we may conceiue that if light were a body, it would be shaken by the windes, and by the motion of the ayre; and wee should see it quauer in all blustering weather. Therefore, sum∣ming vp all we haue said; it seemeth most improbable, and indeed wholy impossible, that light should be a body; and consequently, must haue his place among qualities.

4 1.48But on the other side; before we apply ourselues to answere these obiections, lett vs take a short suruay of those inducements, that pre∣uayle with vs to beleeue light a body, notwithstanding so forcible oppositions. I admitt so farre of the third argument, as to allow light

to be fire: for indeed it can not be imagined to be anything else; all properties agreeing so fully betweene them. But withall I must adde; that it is not fire in euery forme, or fire ioyned with euery substance, that expresseth it selfe by light; but it is fire extremely dilated, and without mixture of any other grosse body. Lett mee hold a piece of linnen or paper, close by the flame of a candle, and by litle, and litle remooue it further and further of; and me thinkes my very eyes tell me, that there is vpon the paper some part of that which I see in the candle; and that it groweth still lesse and lesse like as I remooue the paper further from it: so that, if I would beleeue my sense; I should beleeue it as very a body vpon the paper, as in the candle; though enfeebled, by the laxity of the channell in which it floweth.

And this seemeth to be strengthened, by the consideration of the aduersaries position: for if it were a quality; then, seeing it hath no contrary to destroy or stoppe it, it should still produce an equall to it selfe, without end or growing feeble, whensoeuer it meeteth with a subiect capable to entertayne it, as ayre is.

The better to apprehend how much this faint resemblance of flame vpon the paper,5 1.49 maketh for our purpose; lett vs turne the leafe, and imagine in our owne thoughts, after what fashion that fire which is in the flame of a litle candle, would appeare vnto vs, if it were dilated and stretched out to the vtmost extent, that excesse of rarity can bring it vnto. Suppose that so much flame, as would fill a cone of two inches height and halfe an inch diameter should suffer so great an expansion as to replenish with his light body a large chamber: and then, what can we imagine it would seeme to be? How would the con∣tinuall driuing it into a thinner substance, as it streameth in a perpe∣tuall flood from the flame, seeme to play vpon the paper? And then iudge whether it be likely to be a body or no, when our discourse sug∣gesteth vnto vs, that if it be a body, those very appearances must follow, which our eyes giue vs euidence are so in effect. If gold beaten into so ayery a thinnenesse as we see guilders vse, doth remaine still gold notwithstanding the wonderfull expansion of it: why shall we not allow, that fire dilated to his vtmost periode, shall still remaine fire; though extremely rarifyed beyond what is was?

We know that fire is the rarest and the subtilest substance that nature hath made among bodies;6 1.50 and we know likewise, that it is engendered by the destroying and feeding vpon some other more grosse body: lett vs then calculate, when the oyle, or tallow, or waxe of a candle, or the bulke of a fagott or billet, is dilated and rarifyed to the degree of fire; how vast a place must it take vp?

To this lett vs adde what Aristotle teacheth vs; that fire is not like a standing poole, which continueth full with the same water; and as it hath no wast, so hath it no supply: but it is a fluent and brookelike current. Which also we may learne, out of the perpetuall nutriment

it requireth: for a new part of fewell, being conuerted into a new part of fire (as we may obserue, in the litle atomes of oyle, or melted waxe, that continually ascend apace vp the weeke of a burning candle or lampe) of necessity the former must be gone to make roome for the latter; and so, a new part of the riuer is continually flowing.

Now then, this perpetuall fluxe of fire, being made of a grosse body that so rarifyed will take vp such a vast roome; if it dye not att the instant of its birth, but haue some time to subsist (be it neuer so short,) it must needes runne some distance from the fountaine whence it springeth. Which if it do; you neede not wonder, that there should be so great an extent of fire as is requisite to fill all that space which light replenisheth; nor, that it should be still sup∣plyed with new, as fast as the cold of the ayre killeth it: for conside∣ring that flame is a much grosser substance then pure fire, (by reason of the mixture with it, of that viscous oyly matter, which being drawne out of the wood and candle, serueth for fewell to the fire, and is by litle and litle conuerted into it;) and with all reflecting vpon the nature and motion of fire, (which is, to dilate it selfe extremely, and to fly all about from the center to the circumference;) you can not choose but conceiue, that the pure fire struggling to breake away from the oyly fewell (which is still turning into new fire) doth att length free his winges from that birdlime, and then flyeth abroad with extreme swiftnesse, and swelleth and dilateth it selfe to a huge bulke, now that it hath gotten liberty; and so filleth a vast roome; but remaineth still fire till it dye: which it no sooner doth, but it is still supplyed with new streames of it, that are continually strained, and as it were squeesed, out of the thicke flame, which did imprison it, and kept it within it; till growing fuller of fire then it could con∣taine (by reason of the continuall attenuating the oyly partes of it, and conuerting them into fire) it giueth liberty vnto those partes of fire, that are next the superficies, to fly whither theire nature will carry them.

And thus, discourse would informe a blind man (after he hath well reflected on the nature of fire) how it must needes fill a mighty extent of place; though it haue but a narrow begining att the spring∣head of it: and that there, by reason of the condensation of it, and mixture with a grosser body, it must needes burne other bodies: but that when it is freed from such mixture, and suffereth an extreme ex∣pansion, it can not haue force to burne, but may haue meanes to ex∣presse it selfe to be there present by some operation of it vpon some body that is refined and subtilised enough to perceiue it. And this operation, a seeing man, will tell you is done vpon his eyes, (whose fittenesse to receiue impression from so subtile an Agent, Anatomistes will teach you.) And I remember, how a blind schoolemaster that I kept in my house to teach my children, (who had extreme subtile

spirits, and a great tendernesse through his whole body; and mett with few distractions, to hinder him from obseruing any impression, neuer so nicely made vpon him) vsed often to tell me, that he felt it very perceptibly in seuerall partes of his body; but especially in his braine.

But to settle vs more firmely in the persuasion of light his being a body (and consequently fire;7 1.51) lett vs consider that the properties of a body, are perpetually incident to light; looke what rules a ball will keepe in its reboundes; the same, doth light in its reflexions: and the same demonstration, doth alike conuince the one and the other. Besides, light is broken like a body; as when it is snapped in pieces by a tougher body. It is gathered together into a litle roome, by looking or burning glasses; as water is, by ordering the gutters of a house so as to bring into one cisterne, all that raineth dispersedly vpon the whole roofe. It is seuered and dispersed by other glasses; and is to be wrought vpon, and cast hither and thither, att pleasure; all, by the rule of other bodies. And what is done in light, the same will likewise be done in heate, in cold, in wind, and in sound. And the very same instruments, that are made for light; will worke their ef∣fects in all these others, if they be duly managed.

So that certainely, were it not for the authority of Aristotle and of his learned followers, that presseth vs on the one side; and for the seemingnesse of those reasons we haue already mentioned, which persuadeth vs on the other side; our very eyes would carry vs by streame into this consent, that light is no other thing but the na∣ture and substance of fire, spred farre and wide, and freed from the mixture of all other grosse bodies. Which will appeare yet more eui∣dent in the solutions of the oppositions we haue brought against our owne opinion: for in them there will occurre other arguments of no lesse importance to prooue this verity, then these we haue already proposed.

THE SEVENTH CHAPTER. Two obiections answered against light being fire; with a more ample proofe of its being such.

HAVING then said thus much to persuade vs of the corpo∣reity of this subtile thing,1 1.52 that so queintly playeth with our eyes: wee will in the next place examine those obiections that at the beginning we did sett downe against its being a body: and if after a through discussion of them, we find they do in truth conclude nothing of what att the first sight they beare so great a shew of; but that we shall be able, perfectly to solue and enerue

their force; no body will thinke it rashnesse in vs to craue leaue of Aristotle that we may dissent from him in a matter that he hath not looked to the bottome of; and whose opinion therein, can not be defended from plaine contradictions and impossibilities. It is true, neuer any one man looked so farre as he into the bowels of nature; he may rightly be termed the Gemus of it; and whosoeuer followeth his principles in the maine, can not be led into error: but we must not beleeue, that he, or any man else that relyeth vpon the strength and negotiation of his owne reason, euer had a priuiledge of infallibility entayled to all he said. Lett vs then admire him for what he hath deli∣uered vs: and where he falleth short, or is weary in his search, and suffereth himselfe to be borne downe by popular opinions against his owne principles (which happeneth very seldome to him) lett vs seeke to supply and relieue him.

But to pursue our intent: wee will begin with answering the third obiection; which is, that if light were fire, it must heat as well as enlighten where it shineth. There is no doubt but it doth so: as is euident by the weather glasses, and other artificiall musicall instru∣ments (as organs and virginals that played by themselues) which Cor∣nelius Drebbel (that admirable master of mechanikes) made to shew the king. All which, depended vpon the rarefaction and condensa∣tion of some subtile body, conserued in a cauity within the bulke of the whole instrument: for as soone as the sunne shined, they would haue motion and play their partes. And there is no doubt but that grew out of the rarefaction of the subtile liquor he made vse of, which was dilated, as soone as the ayre was warmed by the sunne beames. Of whose operation, it was so sensible, that they no sooner left the horizon, but its motion ceased. And if but a cloude came betweene the instrument and them, the musike would presently goe slower time. And the antient miracle of Memnons statue, seemeth to be a iuggling of the Aehiopian Priests, made by the like inuention.

2 1.53But though he and they found some spirituall and refined matter, that would receiue such notable impressions, from so small altera∣tions of temper. Yet it is no wonder that our grosse bodies are not sensible of them, for we can not feele heate, vnlesse it be greater then that which is in our sense. And the heate there, must be in pro∣portion to the heate of our blood: which is in a high degree of warmeth. And therefore it is very possible that an exceeding rarifyed fire, may cause a farre lesse impression of heate then we are able to feele. Consider, how if you sett pure spiritt of wine on fire, and so conuert it into actuall flame; yet it will not burne, nor scarce warme your hand: and then, can you expect, that the light of a candle, which filleth a great roome, should burne or warme you as farre as it shineth?

If you would exactly know what degree of heate, and power of

burning, that light hath, which (for example) shineth vpon the wall in a great chamber, in the middest whereof there standeth a candle: doe but calculate, what ouerproportion of quantity all the light in the whole roome beareth, to the quantity of the litle flame att the toppe of the candle; and that is the ouerproportion of the force of burning which is in the candle, to the force of burning which is in so much light att the wall as in extension is equall to the flame of the candle. Which when you haue considered you will not quarrell att its not warming you att that distance; although you grant it to be fire, streaming out from the flame as from the spring that feedeth it, and extremely dilated (according to the nature of fire, when it is att li∣berty) by going so farre, without any other grosse body to imprison or clogge it.

It is manifest, that this rule of examining the proportion of bur∣ning in so much of the light, as the flame is, (by calculating the pro∣portion of the quantity or extension of all the light in the roome to the extension of the flame of the candle, and then comparing the flame of the candle, to a part of light equall in extension vnto it) is a good and infallible one, if we abstract from accidentall inequalities: since, both the light and the flame, are in a perpetuall fluxe; and all the light, was first in the flame; which is the spring, from whence it continually floweth. As in a riuer wherein euery part runneth with a settled streame; though one place be straighter, and an other broader; yet of necessity, since all the water that is in the broad place came out of the narrow; it must follow that in equall portions of time there is no more water, where it hath the liberty of a large channell, then where the bankes presse it into a narrower bed, so that there be no inequalities in the bottome.

In like manner, if in a large stoue, a basen of water be conuerted into steame; that rarifyed water which then filleth the whole stoue, is no more then what the basen contained before: and consequently, the power of moistening which is in a footes extension (for example) of the stoue wherein that steame is, must be in proportion to the vertue of wetting in the footes extension of water; as the quantity of that great roome which the steame filleth, is to the quantity of the water contained in the basin: for although the rarifyed water be not in euery least part of that great place it seemeth to take vp; by reason that there is ayre, in which it must swimme. Yet the power of wetting that was in the basin of water, is dilated through the whole roome, by the coniunction of the miste or dew to all the sensible partes of the ayre that is in the roome: and consequently the power of wetting, which is in any foote of that roome, is in a manner as much lesse then the power of wetting which was in the foote of water, as if the water were rarifyed to the quantity of the whole roome, and no ayre were left with it.

And in the same manner, it fareth with dilated fire, as it doth with dilated water: with onely this difference peraduenture that fire groweth purer, and more towardes its owne nature by dilata∣tion; whereas water becometh more mixed and is carried from its nature by suffering the like effect. Yet dilated water will in pro∣portion moisten more then dilated fire will burne: for the rare∣faction of water, bringeth it neerer to the nature of ayre (whose chief propriety is moisture,) and the fire that accompanieth it when it raiseth it into steame, giueth it more powerfull ingression into what body it meeteth withall: whereas fire, when it is very pure, and att entire liberty to stretch and spread it selfe as wyde as the nature of it will carry it getteth no aduantage of burning by its mixture with ayre: and allthough it gaineth force by its purity, yet by reason of its ex∣treme rarefaction it must needes be extremely fainte. But if by the helpe of glasses, you will gather into lesse roome that which is diffu∣sed into a great one; and so condense it as much as it is (for example) in the flame of a candle; then that fire, or compacted light, will burne much more forcibly then so much flame: for there is as much of it in quantity (excepting what is lost in the carriage of it;) and it is held in together in as litle roome; and it hath this aduantage besides, that it is clogged with no grosse body to hinder the actiuity of it.

3 1.54It seemeth to me now, that the very answering this obiection, doth (besides repelling the force of it) euidently prooue that light is nothing but fire in his owne nature, and exceedingly dilated: for if you suppose fire, (for example, the flame of a candle) to be stretched out to the vtmost expansion that you may well imagine such a grosse body is capable of; it is impossible it should appeare and worke otherwise, then it doth in light as I haue shewed aboue. And againe, we see plainely, that light gathered together burneth more forcibly then any other fire whatsoeuer, and therefore must needes be fire.

Why then shall we not confidently conclude, that what is fire before it getteth abroade, and is fire againe when it cometh together, doth likewise remaine fire during all its iourney? Nay euen in the iourney it selfe, we haue particular testimony that it is fire: for light returning backe from the earth charged with litle atomes (as it doth in soultry gloomy weather) heateth much more then before; iust as fire doth, when it is imprisoned in a dense body.

4 1.55Philosophers ought not to iudge by the same rules that the com∣mon people doth. Their grosse sense, is all their guide: and there∣fore they can not apprehend any thing to be fire, that doth not make it selfe be knowne for such by burning them. But he that iudiciously examineth the matter; and traceth the pedigree and periode of it; and seeth the reason why in some circumstances it burneth, and in others it doth not; is too blame, if he suffer himselfe to be led by others ignorance, contrary to his owne reason. When they that

are curious in perfumes, will haue their chamber filled with a good sent in a hoat season, that agreeth not with burning perfumes, and therefore make some odoriferous water be blowne about it by their seruants mouthes that are dexterous in that Ministery, (as is vsed in Spaine in the summer time;) euery one that seeth it done, though on a suddaine the water be lost to his eyes and touch, and is onely discernable by his nose; yet he is well satisfyed that the sent which recreateth him, is the very water he saw in the glasse extremely dila∣ted by the forcible sprouting of it out from the seruants mouth, and will by litle and litle fall downe and become againe palpable water as it was before; and therefore doubteth not but it is still water whiles it hangeth in the ayre diuided into litle atomes. Whereas one that saw not the beginning of this operation by water, nor obserued how in the end it sheweth it selfe againe in water; might the better be excused, if he should not thinke that what he smelled were water blowne about the ayre, nor any substance of it selfe (because he neither seeth nor handleth it) but some aduentitious quality he knoweth not how adhering to the ayre. The like difference is betweene Philosophers that proceede orderly in their discourses, and others that pay themselues with termes which they vnderstand not. The one, see euidence in what they conclude; whiles the others guesse wildely att randome.

I hope the Reader will not deeme it time lost from our maine drift, which we take vp thus in examples and digressions:5 1.56 for if I be not much deceiued, they serue exceedingly to illustrate the matter: which I hope I haue now rendred so plaine, as no man that shall haue well weighed it, will expect that fire dilated into that rarifyed substance which mankind (who according to the different appearance of thinges to their sense, giueth different names vnto them) calleth light, should burne like that grosser substance which from doing so they call fire; nor doubt but that they may be the same thing more or lesse attenuated; as leafe gold, that flyeth in the ayre as light as downe, is as truly gold as that in an ingott which being heauier then any other substance falleth most forcibly vnto the ground.

What we haue said of the vnburning fire (which we call light) streaming from the flame of a candle; may easily be applyed to all other lights depriued of sensible heat, whereof some appeare with flame, others without it: of the first sort of which, are the innoxious flames that are often seene on the haire of mens heads, and horses manes, on the mastes of shippes, ouer graues, and fatt marish groundes, and the like: and of the latter sort, are glow wormes, and the light conseruing stones, rotten wood, some kindes of fish and of flesh when they begin to putrify, and some other thinges of the like nature.

Now to answere the second part of this obiection, that we dayly

see great heates without any light,6 1.57 as well as much light without any heat, and therefore light and fire can not be the same thing: you may call to mind, how dense bodies are capable of great quanti∣ties of rare ones; and thereby, it cometh to passe that bodies which repugne to the dilatation of flame, may neuerthelesse haue much fire enclosed in them. As in a stoue; let the fire be neuer so great, yet it appeareth not outwardes to the sight, although that stoue warme all the roomes neere it. So when many litle partes of heate are impri∣soned in as many litle celles of grosse earthy substance, (which are like so many litle stoues to them) that imprisonement will not hinder them from being very hoat to the sense of feeling (which is most per∣ceptible of dense thinges.) But because they are choaked with the closenesse of the grosse matter wherein they are enclosed, they can not breake out into a body of flame or light, so to discouer their na∣ture: which (as we haue said before) is the most vnfitt way for burning; for we see that light must be condensed, to produce flame and fire; as flame must be, to burne violently.

7 1.58Hauing thus cleared the third obiection, (as I conceiue;) lett vs goe on to the fourth; which requireth that we satisfy their inquisition, who aske what becometh of that vast body of shining light (if it be a body) that filleth all the distance betweene heauen and earth; and vanisheth in a moment, as soone as a cloude or the moone interp••∣seth it selfe betweene the sunne and vs; or that the sunne quitteth our hemisphere? No signe att all remaineth of it after the extinction of it, as doth of all other substances; whose destruction, is the birth of some new thing. Whither then is it flowne? We may be persuaded that a mist is a corporeall substance, because it turneth to droppes of water vpon the twigges that it enuironeth: and so we might beleeue light to be fire, if after the burning of it out, we found any ashes remai∣ning: but experience assureth vs, that after it is extinguished, it leaueth not the least vestigium behind it of hauing beene there.

Now, before we answere this obiection, we will entreate our aduer∣sary to call to minde, how we haue in our solution of the former, declared and proued that the light which (for example) shineth from à candle, is no more then the flame is, from whence it springeth, the one being condensed, and the other dilated;) and that the flame is in a perpetuall fluxe of consumption about the circumference, and of restauration att the center, where it sucketh in the fewell: and then, we will enquire of him, what becometh of that body of flame which so continually dyeth and is renewed, and leaueth no remainder behind it; as well as he doth of vs, what becometh of our body of light, which in like manner is alwayes dying and alwayes springing fresh? And when he hath well considered it, he will find that one answere will serue for both.

Which is: that as the fire streameth out from the fountaine of it,

and groweth more subtile by its dilatation, it sinketh the more easily into those bodies it meeteth withall: the first of which, and that en∣uironeth it round about, is ayre. With ayre then, it mingleth and incorporateth it selfe; and by consequence, with the other litle bo∣dies that are mingled with the ayre: and in them, it receiueth the changes which nature worketh; by which, it may be turned into the other Elements, if there be occasion; or be still conserued in bodies that require heate.

Vpon this occasion,8 1.59 I remember a rare experiment that a noble man of much sincerity, and a singular frind of mine, told me he had seene: which was, that by meanes of glasses made in a very particu∣lar manner, and artificially placed one by an other, he had seene the sunne beames gathered together, and precipitated downe into a brownish or purplish red pouder. There could be no fallacy in this operation: for nothing whatsoeuer, was in the glasses when they were placed and disposed for this intent: and it must be in the hoat time of the yeare; else the effect would not follow. And of this Magistery, he could gather some dayes, neere two ounces in a day. And it was of a strange volatile nature: and would pierce and imprint his spirituall quality into gold it selfe (the heauiest and most fixed body we con∣uerse withall) in a very short time. If this be plainely so, without any mistaking; then, mens eyes and handes may tell them what beco∣meth of light when it dyeth, if a great deale of it were swept together. But from what cause soeuer this experience had its effect, our reason may be satisfyed with what we haue said aboue: for I confesse, for my part, I beleeue the appearing body might be some thing that came along with the sunne beames, and was gathered by them; but not their pure substance.

Some peraduenture will obiect those lampes,9 1.60 which both auncient and moderne writers haue reported to haue been found in tombes and vrnes, long time before closed vp from mens repayre vnto them to supply them with new fewell: and therefore they beleeue such fires to feede vpon nothing; and consequently, to be inconsumptible and perpetuall. Which if they be, then our doctrine that will haue light to be nothing but the body of fire perpetually flowing from its center, and perpetually dying; can not be sound: for in time, such fires would necessarily spend themselues in light: although light be so subtile a substance that an exceeding litle quantity of fewell, may be dilated into a vast quantity of light. Yet still there would be some consumption; which how imperceptible soeuer in a short time, yet after a multitude of reuolutions of yeares, it must needes discouer it selfe.

To this I answere: that for the most part, the wittnesses who testify originally the stories of these lights, are such as a rationall man can not expect from them that exactnesse or nicety of obseruation,

which is requisite for our purpose; for they are vsually, grosse labou∣ring people, who as they digge the ground for other intentions, do stumble vpon these lampes by chance before they are aware: and for the most part, they breake them in the finding; and they imagine they see a glimpse of light, which vanisheth before they can in a manner take notice of it; and is peraduanture but the glistering of the broken glasse or glased pott, which reflecteth the outward light as soone as by rummaging in the ground and discouering the glasse, the light striketh vpon it; (in such manner as some times a diamond by a certaine encountring of light in a dusky place, may in the first twincling of the motion, seeme to sparkle like fire:) and afterwardes, when they shew their broken lampe, and tell their tale to some man of a pitch of witt aboue them, who is curious to informe him∣selfe of all the circumstances that may concerne such lights; they straine their memory to answere him satisfactorily vnto all his de∣mandes: and thus, for his sake they persuade themselues to remem∣ber what they neuer saw. And he againe on his side, is willing to helpe out the story a litle. And so, after awhile, a very formall and particular relation is made of it. As happeneth in like sort, in re∣porting of all strange and vnusuall thinges: which, euen those that in their nature abhorre from lying, are naturally apt to straine a litle and fashion vp in a handsome mould; and almost to persuade them∣selues they saw more then they did: so innate it is vnto euery man, to desire the hauing of some preeminence beyond his neighbours; be it but in pretending to haue seene some thing which they haue not.

Therefore, before I engage my selfe in giuing any particular answere to this obiection of pretended inconsumptible lights, I would gladly see the effect certainely auerred and vndoubtedly proued: for, the testimonies which Fortunius Licetus produceth (who hath been very diligent in gathering them, and very subtile in discoursing vpon them; and is the exactest author that hath written vpon this subiect) do not seeme vnto mee to make that certainty, which is required for the establishing of a ground in Philosophy. Neuerthelesse, if there be any certaine experience in this particular, I should thinke that there might be some art by circulation of fewell, to maintaine the same light for a great com∣pany of yeares. But I should not easily be persuaded, that eyther flame or light could be made without any manner of consuming the body which serueth them for fewell.

THE EIGHTH CHAPTER. An answere to three other obiections formerly proposed, against light being a substance.

HAVING thus defended our selues from their obiections,1 1.61 who would not allow light to be fire; and hauing satisfyed their inquisition, who would know what becometh of it when it dyeth, if it be a body: we will now apply our selues to answere their difficulties, who will not lett it passe for a body, because it is in the same place with an other body; as, when the sunne beames enlighten all the ayre, and when the seuerall lights of two distinct candles are both of them euery where in the same roome. Which is the substance of the second maine obiection.

This of the iustling of the ayre, is easily answered thus▪ that the ayre being a very diuisible body, doth without resistance yield as much place as is requisite for light. And that light, though our eyes iudge it diffused euery where, yet is not truly in euery point or atome of ayre: but to make vs see it euery where, it sufficeth that it be in euery part of the ayre which is as bigge as the blacke or sight of our eye; so that we can not sett our eye in any position where it receiueth not impressions of light. In the same manner as perfumes: which though they be so grosse bodies that they may be sensibly wasted by the wind; neuerthelesse, they do so fill the ayre, that we can putt our nose in no part of the roome, where a perfume is burned, but we shall smell it. And the like is of mistes; as also of the sprouted water to make a perfume, which we mentioned aboue.

But because pure discourses, in such small thriddes as these, do but weakly bind such readers as are not accustomed vnto them; and that I woudl (if it be possible) render this treatise intelligible to euery rationall man, how euer litle versed in scholastike learning (among whom I expect it will haue a fairer passage, then among those that are already deepely imbued with other principles:) lett vs try if we can herein informe our selues by our sense, and bring our eyes for witt∣nesse of what we say. He then that is desirous to satisfy himselfe in this particular; may putt himselfe in a darke roome, through which the sunne sendeth his beames by a cranie or litle hole in the wall; and he will discouer a multitude of litle atomes flying about in that litle streame of light; which his eye can not discerne, when he is enui∣roned on all sides with a full light. Then lett him examine, whether or no there be light in the middest of those litle bodies: and his owne reason will easily tell him, that if those bodies were as perspicuous as the ayre, they would not reflect vpon our eyes, the beames by

which wee see them. And therefore, he will boldly conclude, that att the least such partes of them as reflect light vnto vs, do not admitt it, nor lett it sinke into them. Then let him consider the multitude of them; and the litle distance betwixt one an other; and how neuerthelesse they hinder not our sight; but we haue it free to discouer all obiects beyond them, in what position soeuer we place our eye: and when he thus perceiueth that these opacous bodies, which are euery where, do not hinder the eye from iudging light to haue an equall plenary diffusion through the whole place that it irradiateth; he can haue no difficulty to allow ayre, (that is diaphanous, and more subtile farre then they, and consequently, diuisible into lesser atomes, and hauing lesser pores, giueth lesse scope vnto our eyes to misse light, then they do) to be euery where mingled with light, though we see nothing but light, and can not discerne any breach or diui∣sion of it.

Especially, when he shall adde vnto this consideration; that the subtile body which thus filleth the ayre, is the most visible thing in the world; and that, whereby all other thinges are seene: and that the ayre which it mingleth it selfe with, is not at all visible, by reason of the extreme diaphaneity of it, and easy reception of the light into euery pore of it without any resistance or reflection: and that such is the nature of light, as it easily drowneth an obscure body, if it be not too bigge: and not onely such, but euen other light bodies: for so we know as well the fixed starrs as the planets, are concealed from our sight, by neerenesse to the sunne; neither the lightnesse of the one, nor the bignesse of the other, preuailing against the darkening of an exuperant light: and we haue dayly experience of the same, in very pure chrystall glasses, and in very cleare water; which though we can not discerne by our sight, if they be in certaine positions; neuerthe∣lesse, by experience we find that they reflect much light, and con∣sequently haue great store of opacous partes: and then he can not choose but conclude, that it is impossible, but light should appeare as it doth, to be euery where, and to be one continued thing; though his discourse withall assure him it is euery where mingled with ayre.

2 1.62And this very answere I thinke will draw with it by consequence, the solution of the other part of the same obiection; which is, of many lights ioyning in the same place; and the same is likewise, concerning the images of colours euery where crossing one an other without hinderance. But to raise this contemplation a straine higher; lett vs consider, how light being the most rare of all knowne bodies, is of its owne nature (by reason of the diuisibility that followeth rarity) diuisible into lesser partes then any other; and particularly then flame; which being mixed with smoake and other corpulency, falleth very short of light. And this, to the proportion in which it is more rare then the body it is compared vnto. Now a great Mathe∣matician

hauing deuised how to measure the rarefaction of gunne∣powder into flame,* 1.63 found the diameter to times encreased; and so concluded, that the body of the flame, was in proportion to the body of the gunnepowder it was made of, as 125000 is to one. Wherefore, by the immediately proceeding consequence, we find that 125000 partes of flame may be couched in the roome of one least part of gunnepowder, and peraduenture, many more, considering how porous a body gunnepowder is. Which being admitted, it is euident that although light were as grosse as the flame of gunnepowder, and gunnepowder were as solide as gold; yet there might passe 125000 rayes of light, in the space wherein one least part of gunnepowder might be contained: which space, would be absolutely inuisible vnto vs, and be contained many times in the bignesse of the sight of a mans eye. Out of which we may gather what an infinity of obiects may seeme vnto us to crosse themselues in the same indiuisible place, and yet may haue roome sufficient for euery one to passe his way, without hindering his fellow. Wherefore, seeing that one single light could not send rayes enough to fill euery litle space of ayre that is ca∣pable of light, and the lesse, the further it is from the flame) it is obuious enough to conceiue, how in the space where the ayre is, there is capacity for the rayes of many candles.

Which being well summed vp will take away the great admiration how the beames of light, though they be corporeall, can in such great multitudes, without hindering one an other, enter into bodies and come to our eye: and will shew, that it is the narrownesse of our capacities, and not the defect of nature, which maketh these diffi∣culties seeme so great; for she hath sufficiently prouided for all these subtile operations of fire; as also for the entrance of it into glasse, and into all other solide bodies that are diaphanous (vpon which was grounded the last instance the second obiection pressed:) for all such bodies being constituted by the operation of fire (which is alwayes in motion) there must needes be wayes left for it both to enter in and to euaporate out. And this is most euident in glasse which being wrought by an extreme violent fire and swelling with it, as water and other thinges do by the mixture of fire; must necessarily haue great store of fire in it selfe whiles it is boyling; as we see by its being red hoat. And hence it is, that the workemen are forced to lett it coole by degrees in such relentinges of fire as they call their nealing heates; least it should shiuer in pieces by a violent succeeding of ayre in the roome of the fire; for that being of greater partes then the fire, would straine the pores of the glasse too soddainly, and breake it all in pieces to gett ingression: whereas in those nealing heates the ayre being rarer, lesser partes of it succeede to the fire, and leisurely stretch the pores without hurt. And therefore we neede not wonder that light passeth so easily through glasse; and much lesse, that it

getteth through other bodies; seeing, the experience of Alchy∣mistes doth assure vs that it is hard to find any other body so impene∣trable as glasse.

3 1.64But now to come to the answere of the first, and in appearance most powerfull obiection against the corporeity of light; which vrgeth that his motion is performed in an instant, and therefore can not belong to what is materiall and clothed with quantity. Wee will endeauour to shew how vnable the sense is to iudge of sundry sortes of motions of Bodies, and how grossely it is mistaken in them. And then, when it shall appeare that the motion of light must necessarily be harder to be obserued then those others: I conceiue, all that is raised against our opinion by so incompetent a iudge, will fall flatt to the ground.

First then, lett mee putt the reader in minde, how if euer he marked children when they play with firestickes, they mooue and whirle them round so fast, that the motion will cosen their eyes, and represent an entire circle of fire vnto them: and were it somewhat distant, in a darke night, that one played so with a lighted torch, it would appeare a constant wheele of fire without any discerning of motion in it. And then, lett him con∣sider how slow a motion that is in respect of what it is possible a body may participate of: and he may safely conclude, that it is no wonder though the motion of light be not descryed, and that indeede no argument can be made from thence to prooue that light is not a body.

But lett vs examine this consideration a litle further, and com∣pare it to the motion of the earth or heauens: lett the appearing circle of the fire, be some three foote diameter, and the time of one entire circulation of it, be the sixtieth part of a minute; of which minutes, there are 60. in an houre; so that in a whole day, there will be but 86400. of these partes of time. Now the dia∣meter of the wheele of fire being but of three foote, the whole quantity of space that it mooueth in that atome of time will be att the most 10. foote; which is three paces and a foote: of which partes, there are neere eleuen millions in the compasse of the earth: so that if the earth be mooued round in 24. houres, it must go neere 130. times as fast as the boyes sticke doth, which by its swift motion deceiueth our eye. But if we allow the sunne, the moone, and the fixed starrs to moue; how extreme swift must their flight be, and how imperceptible would their motion be in such a compasse as our sight would reach vnto? And this being certaine, that whether the earth or they do moue, the appearan∣ces to vs are the same▪ it is euident, that as now they can not be perceiued to moue (as peraduenture they do not;) so it would be the very same in shew to vs, although they did moue. If the

sunne were neere vs, and galloped att that rate; surely we could not distinguish betweene the beginning and ending of his race: but there would appeare one permanent line of light from East to West, without any motion att all: as the torch seemeth to make, with so much a slower motion, one permanent immoouea∣ble wheele of fire.

But contrary to this effect, we see that the sunne and starrs by onely being remooued further from our eyes, do cosen our sight so grossely that we can not discerne them to be mooued att all. One would imagine that so rapide and swift a motion, should be perceiued in some sort or other, (which, whether it be in the earth, or in them, is all one to this purpose.) Eyther we should see them change their places whiles we looke vpon them, as arrowes and birdes do when they fly in the ayre: or else, they should make a streame of light bigger then themselues, as the torch doth. But none of all this happeneth: lett vs gaze vpon them so long and so attentiuely that our eyes be dazeled with looking, and all that while they seeme to stand immooueable▪ and our eyes can giue vs no account of their iourney till it be ended. They discerne it not whiles it is in doing: so that if we consult with no better cownsailour then them, we may wonder to see that body at night setting in the West, which in the morning we beheld rising in the East.

But that which seemeth to be yett more strange, is, that these bodies mooue crosse vs, and neuerthelesse are not per∣ceiued to haue any motion att all. Consider then how much easier it is for a thing that mooueth towardes vs, to be with vs before we are aware. A nimble fencer will put in a thrust so quicke, that the foile will be in your bosome, when you thought it a yard off; because in the same moment you saw his point so farre distant, and could not discerne it to mooue towards you, till you felt the rude salutation it gaue you. If then you will compare the body of light with these others that thus deceiue vs in regard of motion; you must needes agree it is much rashnesse to conclude it hath no motion, because we can not discerne the succession of it. Consider that it is the subti∣lest of all the bodies that God hath made. Examine the paths of it, which for the smallnesse of their thriddes, and the extreme diuisibility of them, and their pliant application of themselues to whatsoeuer hath pores, are almost without resistance. Calculate the strange multiplication of it, by a perpetuall momentary re∣nouation of its streames. And cast with your selfe, with what ex∣treme force it springeth out and flyeth abroad. And on the other side, reflect how all these thinges are directly opposite and con∣trary in those other great bodies, whose motion neuerthelesse

appeareth not vnto us till it be done and past. And when you haue well weighed all this; you must needes grant that they who in this case guide themselues meerely by what appeareth vnto their eyes, are ill iudgers of what they haue not well examined.

4 1.65But peraduenture some who can not all of a soddaine be wea∣ned from what their sense hath so long fed them with; may aske yet further, how it chanceth that we haue no effects of this motion? It sheweth not it selfe in the ayre, coming to us a farre of. It stayeth not a thought, or slackneth his speed in flying so vast a space as is from the sunne to vs. In fine there is no disco∣uery of it.

But if Galileus his conception be well grounded; that lightning giueth vs an incling of its motion, beginning from a litle and encreasing to a greater: or if Monsieur des Cartes his opinion that it goeth slower in refraction, be true: we shall not neede to study long for an answere. But in Galileus his experience, it may be the breaking of the cloude which receiueth that succession of motion which we see: and no slownesse that light can acquire by the resistance of the refracting body, can be so greate as to make that difference of lines which Monsieur Des Cartes most inge∣niously (though I much doubt not truly) hath applyed to yield the reason of refraction: as will appeare in our further discourse.

Therefore, these being vncertaine; we will, to shew the vnreasonablenesse of this question, suppose there may be some obseruable tardity in the motion of light; and then aske of them, how we should arriue to perceiue it? What sense should we employ in this discouery? It is true, we are satisfyed that sound taketh vp time in coming to our eares: but it is, because our eyes are nimbler then they, and can perceiue a good way distant the carpenters axe falling vpon the timber that he heweth, or the fire flashing out of the canon, before they heare any newes of them: but shutt your eyes; or enquire of a blind man; and then neither you nor he can tell whether those soundes fill your eares att the very in∣stant they were begotten, or haue spent some time in their iourney to you. Thus then our eyes instruct our eares. But is there any sense quicker then the sight? or meanes to know speedier then by our eyes? Or can they see light, or any thing else; vntill it be with them? We may then assuredly conclude, that its motion is not to be discerned as it cometh vpon vs; nor it selfe to be per∣ceiued, till its beames are in our eyes.

But if there were any meanes to discouer its motion, surely it must be in some medium, through which it must struggle to gett, as fire doth through iron; which encreasing there by degrees, att last (when it is red hoat) sendeth beames of light quite through the plate that att the first refused them passage. And it

maketh to this purpose, that the lightconseruing stones which are gathered in Italy, must bee sett in the sunne for some while before they retaine light: and the light will appeare in them when they are brought backe into the darke, greater or lesser (vntill they come to their vtmost periode) according as they haue beene longer or a lesser while in the sunne. And our eyes the longer they remaine in the light, the more dazeled they are if they be suddainely passed into the darke. And a curious experiencer did affirme, that the likenesse of any obiect (but particularly he had often obserued it of an iron grate) if it be strongly enlightened will appeare to an other, in the eye of him that looketh strongly and steadily vpon it till he be dazeled by it; euen after he shall haue turned his eyes from it. And the wheele of fire could neuer be made appeare vnto our eye by the whirling of the firesticke we euen now spoke of; vnlesse the impression made by the fire from one place, did remaine in the eye a while after the fire was gone from the place whence it sent that ray. Whence it is euident, that light, and the pictures of obiects, do require time to settle and to vnsettle in a subiect. If then light maketh a greater impression with time, why should we doubt but the first cometh also in time; were our sense so nimble as to perceiue it?

But then it may be obiected,5 1.66 that the sunne would neuer be truly in that place in which vnto our eyes it appeareth to be: be∣cause that, it being seene by meanes of the light which issueth from it; if that light required time to moue in, the sunne (whose motion is so swift) would be remooued from the place where the light left it, before it could be with vs to giue tidinges of him. To this I answere, allowing that peraduenture it may be so. Who knoweth the contra∣ry? Or what inconuenience would follow, if it be admitted? Indeed, how can it be otherwise? In refraction, we are sure it is so: and there∣fore att no time but when the sunne is perpendicularly ouer our heades, we can be certaine of the contrary allthough it should send its light to vs in an instant. Vnlesse happily the truth of the case should be, that the sunne doth not mooue about vs; but we turne to his light: and then, the obiection also looseth its ayme.

But the more we presse the quicknesse of light;6 1.67 the more we engage our selues in the difficulty why light doth not shatter the ayre in pieces, as likewise all solide bodies whatsoeuer: for the masters of na∣turall Philosophy do tell vs, that a softer thing with a great velocity, is as powerfull in effect when it giueth a blow, as a harder thing going slowly. And accordingly experience teacheth vs, that a tallow candle shott in a gunne, will goe through a brod or kill a man. Wherefore light hauing such an infinite celerity, should also haue an vnresistable force, to pierce and shatter, not onely the ayre, but euen the hardest bodies that are. Peraduenture some may thinke it reasonable to

grant the consequence (in due circumstances) since experience teacheth vs that the congregation of a litle light by a glasse, will sett very solide bodies on fire, and will melt mettals in a very short space; which sheweth a great actiuity; and the great actiuity sheweth a great percussion, bur∣ning being effected by a kind of attrition of the thing burned. And the great force which fire sheweth in gunnes and in mines, being but a multiplication of the same, doth euidently conuince that of its owne nature, it maketh a strong percussion, when all due circumstances con∣curre. Whereas it hath but litle effect, if the due circumstances be wan∣ting; as we may obserue in the insensible burning of so rarifyed a body as pure spiritt of wine conuerted into flame.

But we must examine the matter more particularly, and must seeke the cause why a violent effect doth not alwayes appeare, wheresoeuer light striketh; for the which wee are to note that three thinges do con∣curre to make a percussion great. The bignesse, the density and the ce∣lerity of the body mooued. Of which three, there is only one in light; to witt, celerity: for it hath the greatest rarity, and the rayes of it are the smallest parcels, of all naturall bodies. And therefore since only celerity is considerable in the account of lights percussions, we must examine what celerity is necessary to make the stroke of a ray sensible: first then we see that all the motes of the ayre, nay euen feathers and strawes, do make no sensible percussion when they fall vpon vs: therefore we must in light haue att the least a celerity that may be to the celerity of the straw falling vpon our hand (for example,) as the density of the straw is to the density of light, that the percussion of light may be in the least degree sensible. But let vs take a corne of gunnepowder insteede of a straw (betweene which there can not be much difference) and then putting that the density of fire, is to the density of gunnepowder as 1. to 125000; and that the density of the light we haue here in the earth, is to the density of that part of fire which is in the sunnes body, as the body of the sunne is to that body which is called Orbis magnus, (whose se∣midiameter is the distance betweene the sunne and the earth▪) which must be in subtriple proportion of the diameter of the sunne to the dia∣meter of the great orbe: it followeth that 125000. being multiplyed by the proportion of the great orbe vnto the sunne (which Galileo telleth vs is as 106000000. vnto one) will giue a scantling of what degree of celerity light must haue more then a corne of gunnepouder, to recom∣pence the excesse of weight which is in a corne of gunnepouder, aboue that which is in a ray of light, as bigge as a corne of gunnepouder. Which will amount to be much greater then the proportion of the semidiater of Orbis magnus, to the semidiater of the corne of gunnepouder: for if you reckon 5. graines of gunnepouder to a barley cornes breadth, and 12. of them in an inch, and 12. inches in a foote, and 3. feete in a pace, and 1000. paces in a mile, and 3500. miles in the semidiameter of the earth, and 1208. semidiameters of the earth, in the semidiameter of the Orbis

magnus, there will be in it but 9132480000000. graines of gunne∣pouder; whereas the other calculation maketh light to be 13250000000000. times raver then gunnepouder; which is almost tenne times a greater proportion then the other. And yet this celerity supplyeth but one of the two conditions wanting in light to make its percussions sensible, namely density. Now because the same velocity, in a body of a lesser bulke, doth not make so great a percussion as it doth in a bigger body; and that the littlenesse of the least partes of bodies followeth the proportion of their rarity: this vast proportion of celerity must againe be drawne into it selfe, to supply for the excesse in bignesse that a corne of gunnepouder hath ouer an atome of light: and the product of this multiplication will be the celerity required to supply for both defects. Which euidently sheweth, it is impossible that a ray of light should make any sensible percussion, though it be a body. Especially considering that sense neuer taketh notice of what is perpe∣tually done in a moderate degree. And therefore, after this minute looking into all circumstances, we neede not haue difficulty in allowing vnto light the greatest celerity imaginable, and a percussion proportio∣nate to such a celerity in so rare a body; and yett not feare any violent effect from its blowes: vnlesse it be condensed, and many partes of it be brought together to worke as if they were but one.

As concerning the last obiection;7 1.68 that if light were a body, it would be fanned by the wind: wee must first consider what is the cause of a thinges appearing to be mooued: and then examine what force that cause hath in light. As for the first part; we see that when a body is discerned now in one place, now in an other, then it appeareth te be mooued. And this we see happeneth also in light; as when the sunne or a candle is carried or mooueth, the light thereof in the body of the candle or sunne seemeth to be mooued along with it. And the likes is in a shining cloud or comete.

But to apply this to our purpose: wee must note that the intention of the obiection is, that the light which goeth from the fire to an opacous body farre distant without interruption of its continuity, should seeme to be iogged or putt out of its way, by the wind that crosseth it. Wherein the first fayling is, that the obiectour conceiueth light to send species vnto our eye from the middest of its line: whereas with a litle considera∣tion he may perceiue, that not light is seene by vs but that which is re∣flected from an opacous body to our eye: so that the light he meaneth in his obiection, is neuer seene att all. Secondly; it is manifest that the light which stricketh our eye, doth strike it in a straight line; and seemeth to be att the end of that straight line, wheresoeur that is; and so can neuer appeare to be in an other place: but the light which wee see in an other place, wee conceiue to be an other light. Which maketh it againe euident, that the light can neuer appeare to shake, though wee should suppose that light may be seene from the middle of its line; for no part of wind or ayre can come into any sensible place in that middle of the line, with

such speede that new light from the source doth not illuminate it sooner then it can be seene by vs: wherefore it will appeare to vs illu∣minated as being in that place: and therefore, the light can neuer appeare shaken. And lastly, it is easier for the ayre or wind to destroy the light, then it is to remooue it out of its place: wherefore, it can neuer so remoue it out of its place, as that we should see it in an other place. But if it should remooue it, it would wrappe it vp within it selfe and hide it.

8 1.69In conclusion; after this long dispute concerning the nature of light: if we consider well what hath beene said on both sides (to which much more might be added, but that we haue already trespassed in length, and I conceiue, enough is said to decide the matter) an equall iudge will find the ballance of the question to hang vpon these termes: that, to proue the nature of light to be materiall and corpo∣reall, are brought a company of accidents well knowne to be the proprieties of quantity or bodies; and as well knowne to be in light. Euen so farre as that it is manifest, that light in its begining before it be dispersed, is fire; and if againe it be gathered together, it sheweth it selfe againe to be fire. And the receptacles of it, are the receptacles of a body: being a multitude of pores; as the hardnesse and coldnesse of transparent thinges, do giue vs to vnderstand; of which we shall hereafter haue occasion to discourse.

On the contrary side, whatsoeuer arguments are brought against lights being a body, are onely negatiues. As, that we see not any motion of light; that we do not discerne, where the confines are betweene light and ayre; that we see not roome for both of them, or for more lights to be together; and the like: which is to oppose nega∣tiue proofes against affirmatiue ones; and to build a doctrine vpon the defect of our senses; or vpon the likenesse of bodies which are extremely vnlike, expecting the same effects from the most subtile as from the most grosse ones. All which, together with the autority of Aristotle and his followers, haue turned light into darknesse, and haue made vs almost deny the light of our owne eyes.

9 1.70Now then, to take our leaue of this important question: lett vs returne to the principles from whence we began, and consider; that seeing fire is the most rare of all the Elements, and very dry: and that out of the former it hath that it may be cutt into very small pieces; and out of the latter, that it conserueth its owne figure, and so is apt to diuide, whatsoeuer fluide body: and ioyning to these two principles, that it multiplyeth extremely in its source. It must of necessity follow that it shooteth out in great multitudes, litle small partes into the ayre and into other bodies circūfused, with great dilatation, in a sphericall manner. And likewise that these litle partes are easily broken; and new ones, still following the former, are still multiplyed in straight lines from the place where they breake. Out of which it is euident,

that of necessity it must in a manner fill all places; and that no sensible place is so litle, but that fire will be found in it, if the medium be capacious. As also, that its extreme least partes will be very easily swallowed vp in the partes of the ayre, which are humide; and by their enfolding, be as it were quite lost; so as to loose the appearance of fire. Againe that in its reflections, it will follow the nature of grosser bodies, and haue glidinges like them; which is that, we call refractions. That, litle streaminges from it will crosse one an other in excessiue great numbers, in an vnsensible part of space, without hindering one an other. That its motion will be quicker then sense can iudge of; and therefore, will seeme to mooue in an instant, or to stand still as in a stagnation. That if there be any bodies so porous with litle and thicke pores; as that the pores arriue neere vnto equalling the substance of the body; then, such a body will be so filled with these litle particles of fire, that it will appeare as if there were no stoppe in its passage, but were all filled with fire; and yet, many of these litle partes will be reflected. And whatsoeuer qnalities else we find in light, we shall be able to deriue them out of these principles, and shew that fire must of necessity doe what experience teacheth vs that light doeth. That is to say in one word, it will shew vs that fire is light. But if fire be light, then light must needes be fire. And so we leaue this matter.

THE NINETH CHAPTER. Of Locall Motion in common.

THOVGH in the fifth chapter,1 1.71 we made onely earth the pretender in the controuersy against fire for superiority in actiuity; (and in very truth, the greatest force of grauity doth appeare in those bodies which are eminently earthy:) neuerthelesse, both water and ayre (as appeareth out of the fourth chapter of the Elements) do agree with earth in hauing grauity. And grauity, is the chiefe vertue to make them efficients. So that vpon the matter, this plea is common to all the three Elements.

Wherefore, to explicate this vertue, whereby these three weighty Elemēts do worke; lett vs call to minde what we said in the beginning of the last chapter concerning locall motion: to witt that according as the body mooued, or the diuider did more and more enter into the diuided body; so, it did ioyne it selfe to some new partes of the medium or diuided body, and did in like manner forsake others. Whence it happeneth that in euery part of motion, it possesseth a greater part of the medium then it selfe can fill att once. And because by the limitation and confinednesse of euery magnitude vnto iust

what it is, and no more; it is impossible that a lesser body should att once equallise a greater. It followeth that this diuision or motion whereby a body attaineth to fill a place bigger then it selfe, must be done successiuely: that is, it must first fill one part of the place it mooueth in, then an other; and so proceede on, till it haue measured it selfe with euery part of the place from the first beginning of the line of motion to the last periode of it where the body resteth.

By which discourse it is euident, that there can not in nature be a strength so great as to make the least or quickest mooueable that is, to passe in an instāt, or all together, ouer the least place that can be imagined: for that would make the mooued body (remaining what it is, in regard of its biggenesse) to equallise ad fitt a thing bigger then it is. Therefore it is manifest, that motion must consist of such partes as haue this nature; that whiles one of them is in being, the others are not yet: and as by degrees euery new one cometh to be; all the others that were before, do vanish and cease to be. Which circumstance accompanying motion, we call succession.

2 1.72And whatsoeuer is so done, is said to be done in time: which is the common measure of all succession, for, the change of situation of the starrs, but especially of the sunne and moone, is obserued more or lesse by all mākind: and appeareth alike to euery man: and (being the most knowne, constant, and vniforme succession that men are vsed vnto) is as it were by nature it selfe sett in their way and offered vnto them as fittest to estimate and iudge all other particular successions, by comparing them both to it, and among themselues by it. And accordingly we see all men naturally measure all other successions, and expresse their quantities, by comparing them to the reuolutions of the heauens; for dayes, houres, and yeares, are nothing else but they, or some determinate partes of them: vnto some of which, all other motions and successions must of necessity be referred, if we will measure them. And thus we see how all the mystery of applying time vnto particular motions, is nothing else but the considering how farre the Agent that mooueth the sunne, causeth it to go on in its iorney, whiles the Agent that mooueth a particular body, causeth it to performe its motion.

3 1.73So that it is euident, that velocity is the effect of the superproportion of the one Agent ouer a certaine medium, in respect of the proportion which an other Agent hath to the same medium. And therefore, velocity is a quality by which one succession is intrinsecally distinguished from an other: though our explication, vseth to include time in the notions of velocity and tardity. Velocity then, is the effect (as we said) of more strength in the Agent. And hauing before expressed, that velocity is a kind of density; wee find that this kind of density is an excellency in succession; as permanent density, is an excellency in the nature of substance, though an imperfection in the nature of quantity (by which we see, that quantity is a kind of base alloy added to substance.) And out

of this it is euident, that by how much the quicker the motion is in equall mediums, by so much the agent is the perfecter which causeth it to be so quicke. Wherefore, if the velocity should ascend so much as to admitt no proportion betweene the quicknesse of the one and the tardity of the other, all other circumstances being euen, excepting the difference of the agents; then there must be no proportion betweene the agents. Nor indeed can there be any proportion betweene them though there were neuer so great differences in other circumstances, as long as those differences be within any proportion. And consequently, you see that if one agent be supposed to mooue in an instant, and an other in time; whatsoeuer other differences be in the bodies mooued and in the mediums; neuerthelesse the agent which causeth motion in an instant, will be infinite in respect of the agent which mooueth in time. Which is impossible: it being the nature of a body, that greater quant••ty of the same thing h••th greater vertue, then a lesse quantity hath; and therefore, for a body to haue infinite vertue, it must haue infinite magnitude.

If any should say the contrary; affirming that infinite vertue may be in a finite body; I aske, whether in halfe that body (were it diuided) the vertue would be infinite or no? If he acknowledge that it would not; I inferre thence, that neither in the two partes together th••re can be infinite vertue: for two finites can not compose and make vp one infinite. But if he will haue the vertue be infinite in each halfe, he therein alloweth that there is no more vertue, in the whole body then in one halfe of it: which is against the nature of bodies. Now that a body can not be infinite in greatnesse, is prooued in the second knott of M^r. whites first Dialogue of the world. And thus it is euident, that by the vertue of pure bodies there can be no motion in an instant.

On the other side,4 1.74 it followeth that there can not be so litle a force in nature, but that giuing it time enough, it will mooue the greatest weight that can be imagined: for, the thinges we treate of, being all of them quantities; they may by diuision and multiplication, be brought vnto equality. As for example▪ supposing the weight of a mooueable, to be a milliō of poundes▪ and that the moouer is able to mooue the millioneth part of one of those poundes, in a million of yeares, the millioneth part of a pace, through a mediū of a certaine rarity. Now, seeing that yeares may be multiplyed so, as to equalise the force of this moouer, vnto the weight of the mooueable. It followeth cleerely that in so many millions of yeares, this force may mooue the whole weight of a million of poundes, through the determined medium in a determinate number of millions of yeares, a million of paces: for such a force is equall to the required effect; and by consequence, if the effect should not follow, there would be a complete cause putt, and no effect result from it.

But peraduenture it is needfull to illustrate this point yet further: suppose then a weight neuer so great to be A, and a force neuer so litle to be B. Now if you conceiue that some other force mooueth A, you must

withall conceiue that it mooueth A some space, since all motion implyeth necessarily that it be through some space: lett that space be CD. And because a body can not be mooued in a space in an instant, but requireth some time to haue its motion performed in; it followeth that there must be a determined time, in which the conceiued force must mooue the weight A through the space CD: lett that time be EF. Now then; this is euident, that it is all one to say that B mooueth A, and to say that B mooueth A through a space in a time; so that if any part of this be left out, it can not be vnderstood that B mooueth A. Therefore to expresse particularly the effect which B is to do vpon A, we must say that B must mooue A a certaine space in a certaine time. Which being so we may in the next place consider that this effect of moouing A may be diminished two wayes, eyther because the space it is to be mooued in, is lessened; or the time taken vp in its motion, is encreased: for, as it is a greater effect, to mooue A through the space CD, in a lesse time then EF, so it is a lesse effect to moue the same A, through the space CD, in a greater time then EF; or through a lesse space then CD in the time EF. Now then, this being supposed, that it is a lesse effect to mooue A through CD, in a greater time then EF, it followeth also, that a lesser vertue is able to mooue it through CD in a greater time then EF, then the vertue which is required to mooue it, through the same space in the time EF. Which if it be once granted (as it can not be denyed) then multiplying the time, as much as the vertue or force required to mooue A through CD in the time EF is greater then the force B; in so much time, the force B will be able to mooue A through CD. Which discourse is euident, if we take it in the common termes: but if it be applyed to action, wherein physicall accidents intervene; the artificer must haue the iudgement to prouide for them, according to the nature of his matter.

5 1.75Vpon this last discourse doth hang the principle which gouerneth Mechanikes, to witt, that the force and the distance of weights counterpoising one an other, ought to be reciprocall. That is, that by how much the one weight is heauyer then the other, by so much must the distance of the lighter from the fixed point vpon which they are mooued, be greater then the distance of the greater weight from the same point: for it is plaine that the weight which is more distant, must be mooued a greater space, then the neerer weight, in the proportion of the two distāces. Wherefore, the force moouing it must carry it in a velocity of the said proportion to the velocity of the other. And consequently, the Agent or moouer, must be in that proportion more powerfull then the contrary moouer. And out of this practise of Geometricians in Mechanikes (which is confirmed by experience) it is made euident that if other conditions be equall, the excesse of so much grauity will make so much velocity. And so much velocity in proportion, will recompence so much grauity.

Out of the precedent conclusions,6 1.76 an other followeth: which is, that nothing recedeth frō quiet or rest, and attaineth a great degree of celerity, but it must passe through all the degrees of celerity that are below the obtained degree. And the like is, in passing from any lesser degree of velocity vnto a greater: because it must passe through all the intermediate degrees of velocity. For by the declaration of velocity which we haue euen now made, we see that there is as much resistance in the medium to be ouercome with speede, as there is for it to be ouercome in regard of the quantity, or line of extent of it: because (as we haue said) the force of the Agent in counterpoises, ought to be encreased as much as the line of extent of the medium which is to be ouercome by the Agent in equall time, doth exceede the line of extent of the medium, along which the resistent body is to be mooued. Wherefore, it being prooued that no line of extent, can be ouercome in an instant, it followeth that no defect of velocity which requireth as great a superproportion in the cause, can be ouercome likewise in an instant.

And by the same reason by which we prooue that a mooueable can not be drawne in an instant from a lower degree of velocity to a higher, it is with no lesse euidence concluded that no degree of velocity can be attained in an instant: for diuide that degree of velocity into two halfes, and if the Agent had ouercome the one halfe, he could not ouercome the other halfe in an instant: much lesse therefore is he able to ouercome the whole (that is, to reduce the mooueable from quiet to the said degree of velocity) in an instant.

An other reason may be, because the moouers themselues (such moouers as we treate of here) are bodies likewise mooued, and do consist of partes: whereof not euery one part, but a competent number of them, doth make the moouing body to be a fitt Agent able to mooue the proposed body in a proposed degree of celerity. Now this Agent meeting with resistance in the mooueable, and not being in the vtmost extremity of density, but condensable yet further, (because it is a body;) and that euery resistance (be it neuer so small) doth worke something vpon the moouer (though neuer so hard) to condense it; the partes of the moouer that are to ouercome this resistance in the mooueable, must (to worke that effect) be condensed and brought together as close as is needefull, by this resistance of the mooueable to the moouer; and so, the remote partes of the moouer, become neerer to the mooueable, which can not be done but successiuely, because it includeth locall motion. And this application being likewise diuisible, and not all the partes flocking together in an instant to the place where they are to exercise their power; it followeth, that whiles there are fewer moouing partes knitt together, they must needes mooue lesse and more weakely, then when more or all of them are

assembled and applyed to that worke. So that, the motiue vertue encreasing thus in proportion to the multiplying of the partes applyed to cause the motion; of necessity, the effect (which is obedience to be mooued, and quicknesse of motion in the mooueable) must do so too: that is, it must from nothing, or from rest, passe through all the degrees of celerity vntill it arriue to that which all the partes together are able to cause.

As for example, when with my hand I strike a ball; till my hand toucheth it, it is in quiet; but then, it beginneth to mooue; yet with such resistance, that although it obey in some measure the stroke of my hand, neuerthelesse it presseth the yielding flesh of my palme backwardes towardes the vpper and bony part of it. That part then ouertaking the other, by the continued motion of my hand; and both of them ioyning together to force the ball away; the impulse becometh stronger, then att the first touching of it. And the longer it presseth vpon it, the more the partes of my hand do condense and vnite themselues to exercise their force; and the ball therefore must yield the more; and consequently, the motion of it groweth quicker and quicker, till my hand parteth from it. Which condensation of the partes of my hand encreasing successiuely by the partes ioyning closer to one an other, the velocity of the balles motion (which is an effect of it) must also encrease proportionably thereunto. And in like manner, the motion of my hand and arme, must grow quicker and quicker and passe all the degrees of velocity betweene rest and the vtmost degree it attaineth vnto: for seeing they are the spirits swelling the nerues, that cause the armes motion, (as we shall hereafter shew;) vpon its resistance, they flocke from other partes of the body to ouercome that resistance. And since their iourney thither requireth time to performe it in; and that the neerest come first; it must needes follow, that as they grow more and more in number, they must more powerfully ouercome the resistance; and consequently, encrease the velocity of the motion, in the same proportion as they flocke thither; vntill it attaine that degree of velocity, which is the vtmost periode that the power, which the Agent hath to ouercome the resistance of the medium, can bring it selfe vnto. Betweene which and rest, or any inferiour degree of velocity, there may be designed infinite intermediate degrees, proportionable to the infinite diuisibility of time, and space in which the moouer doth moue. Which degrees do arise out of the reciprocall yielding of the medium. And that is likewise diuisible in the same infinite proportion.

Since then, the power of all naturall Agents is limited; the moouer (be it neuer so powerfull) must be confined to obserue these proportions; and can not passe ouer all these infinite designable degrees in an instant; but must allott some time (which hath a like infinity of designable partes) to ballance this infinity of degrees of

velocity: and so consequently, it requireth time, to attaine vnto any determinate degree. And therefore can not recede immediately from rest vnto any degree of celerity; but must necessarily passe through all the intermediate ones.

Thus it is euident that all motion which hath a beginning must of necessity encrease for some time. And since the workes of nature are in proportion to their causes, it followeth that this encrease is in a determinate proportion. Which Galileus (vnto whom we owe the greatest part of what is knowne concerning motion) teacheth vs how to find out; and to discouer what degree of celerity any mooueable that is moued by nature, hath in any determinate part of the space it moueth in.

Hauing settled these conditions of motion;7 1.77 we shall do well in the next place to enquire after the causes of it: as well in the body moued, as also in the mouer that occasioneth the motion. And because we haue already shewed, that locall motion is nothing in substance but diuision: we may determine that those causes which contribute to diuision, or resist it, are the causes which make, or resist locall motion. It hath also beene said, that Density hath in it a power of diuiding; and that Rarity is the cause of being diuided; likewise we haue said that fire, by reason of its small partes, into which it may be cutt (which maketh them sharpe) hath also an eminence in diuiding: so that we haue two qualites, density and tenuity or sharpnesse which concurre actiuely to diuision.* 1.78 We haue told you also how Galileus hath demonstrated that a greater quantity of the same figure and density, hath a priuiledge of descending faster then a lesser. And that priuiledge consisteth in this, that the proportion of the superficies to the body it limiteth (which proportion the greater it is, the more it retardeth) is lesse in a greater bulke then in a smaller.

We haue therefore three conditions concurring to make the motion more efficacious: namely, the density, the sharpenesse, and the bulke of the mooueable. And more then these three, we can not expect to find in a moued body: for quantity hath but three determinations: one, by density and rarity; of which, density is one of the three conditions: an other, by its partes; as by a foote, a spanne, &c; and in this way wee haue found that the greater excelleth the lesser: the third and last, is by its figure; and in this we find that subtile or edged quantities do preuayle ouer blunt ones. Seeing therefore, that these three determinations be all that are in quantity; there can be no more conditions in the body moued (which of necessity is a finite quantity) but the three named.

And as for the medium which is to be diuided, there is onely rarity and density (the one, to helpe; the other, to hinder,) that require consideration on its side. For neither figure, nor littlenesse and greatnesse, do make any variation in it. And as for the Agent, it is not as yet time, before we haue looked further int•• the nature of motion, to determine his qualities.

8 1.79Now then lett vs reflect how these three conditions do all agree in this circumstance, that they helpe nothing to diuision, vnlesse the body in which they are, be moued and pressed against the body that is to be diuided, so that we see no principle to persuade vs, that any body can mooue it selfe towards any determinate part or place of the vniuerse, of its owne intrinsecall inclination. For besides that the learned Author of the Dialogues de Mundo (in his third Dialogue, and the second knott) hath demonstrated that a body can not mooue vnlesse it be mooued by some extrinsecall Agent; we may easily frame vnto our selues a conceite, of how absurd it is to thinke that a body by a quality in it can worke vpon it selfe: as if wee should say, that rarity (which is but more quantity) could worke vpon quantity; or that figure (which is but that the body reacheth no further) could worke vpon the body: and in generall, that the manner of any thing, can worke vpon that thing whose manner it is. For Aristotle and S^t. Thomas, and their intelligent commentatours, declaring the notion of Quality; tell vs that to be a Quality is nothing else but to be the determination or modification of the thing whose quality it is.

Besides, that the naturall manner of operation is, to worke according to the capacity of the subiect: but when a body is in the middest of an vniforme medium or space, the subiect is equally prepared on all sides to receiue the action of that body. Wherefore (though we should allow it a force to mooue) if it be a naturall Agent, and haue no vnderstanding, it must worke indifferently on all sides, and by consequence, can not mooue on any side. For if you say that the Agent in this case (where the medium is vniforme) worketh rather vpon one side then vpon an other; it must be because this determination is within the Agent it selfe, and not out of the circumstant dispositions: which is the manner of working of those substances that worke for an end of their owne; that is, of vnderstanding creatures, and not of naturall bodies.

Now he that would exactly determine what motion a body hath, or is apt to haue;9 1.80 determining by supposition the force of the Agent, must calculate the proportions of all these three conditions of the mooueable, and the quality of the medium: which is a proceeding too particular for the intention of our discourse. But to speake in common, it will not be amisse to examine in what proportion, motion doth encrease; since we haue concluded that all motion proceedeth from quiet by a continuall encrease. Galileus (that miracle of our age, and whose witt was able to discouer whatsoeuer he had a mind to employ it about) hath told vs that naturall motion, encreaseth in the proportion of the odde numbers. Which to expresse by example, is thus: suppose that in the going of the first yard it hath one degree of velocity, then in the going of the second yard it will haue three

degrees, and in going the third it will haue fiue: and so onwardes, still adding two to the degrees of the velocity for euery one of the space. Or to expresse it more plainely; if in the first minute of time it goeth one yard of space, then in the next minute it will goe three yardes, in the third it will goe fiue, in the fourth seauen, and so forth.

But we must enlarge this proposition, vnto all motions, (as we haue done the former, of the encrease it selfe in velocity;) because the reason of it is common to all motions. Which is; that all motion (as may appeare out of what we haue formerly said) proceedeth from two causes; namely, the Agent or the force that mooueth; and the disposition of the body mooued, as it is composed of the three qualities we lately explicated. In which is to be noted, that the Agent doth not mooue simply by its owne vertue, but it applyeth also the vertue of the body mooued, which it hath to diuide the medium when it is putt on. As when we cutt with a knife, the effect proceedeth from the knife pressed on by the hand; or from the hand as applying and putting in action the edge and cutting power of the knife. Now this in Physickes and nature is cleerely parallel to what in Geometry and Arithmetike the Mathematicians call drawing one number or one side into an other; for as in Mathematikes, to draw one number into an other is to apply the number drawne vnto euery part of the number into which it is drawne; as if we draw three into seuen we make twenty one, by making euery vnity or part of the number seuen to be three: and the like is of lines in Geometry. So in the present case, to euery part of the handes motion we adde the whole vertue of the cutting faculty which is in the knife, and to euery part of the motion of the knife, we adde the whole pressing vertue of the hand. Therefore the encrease of the effect proceeding from two causes so working, must also be parallel to the encrease of the quantities arising out of the like drawing in Mathematikes. But in those, it is euident that the encrease is according to the order of the odde numbers, and therefore it must in our case be the like: that is, the encrease must be in the said proportion of odde numbers. Now that in those, the encrease proceedeth so, will be euident, if you consider the encrease of an Equicrure triangle; which because it goeth vpon a certaine proportion of length and breadth, if you compare the encreases of the whole triangle (that gaineth on each side) with the encreases of the perpendicular (which gaineth onely in length) you will see that they still proceede in the foresaid proportion of odde numbers.

Which will be better vnderstood, if we sett downe the demonstration of it: lett the Equicrure triangle be ABC: and from the point A, draw the line AD perpendicular to the line BC, and lett it be diuided into three equall partes by the lines EF and

GH, in the pointes I, and K. And I say that because the line AK

[illustration]

is tuice as long as the line AI, therefore the trapezium EFHG, is thrice as bigge as the triangle AEF: for as AK, is to AI, so is GH to EF. But the triangle AGH is to the triangle AEF, in a double proportion of the line GH to the line EF: which being double the proportion of one triangle to the other must be fourefold: so that substracting the triangle AEF, the trapezium EFHG remaineth thrice as bigge as it. And thus, the whole triangle getteth an encrease of three, whiles the perpendicular is encreased but one, to make his length two Which when it cometh to three, the trapezium GHCB that containeth the third diuision of the perpendicular, becometh fiue times as bigg as the triangle AEF; for since the line AD is three times as long as the line AI; and the line BC, is three times as long as EF; it followeth, that the triangle ABC is nine times as bigg as the triangle AEF; but AGH is foure times as bigge as AEF; therefore substracting it from the whole triangle ABC, it leaueth the trapezium GHCB fiue times as bigg as the first triangle AEF. Which proposition is very ingeniously sett downe by the learned Monsieur Gassendi in his first Epistle de motu impresso a motore translato, to the same purpose for which we bring it. Though we do not here make vse of his scheme and way of demonstration; because we had fallen vpon this before his booke came abroad: and therefore we onely note his to direct the Reader vnto it who peraduenture may like his better then ours. Howbeit we do not conceiue that he hath in his discourse there, arriued to the true reason of the effect we search into: as may appeare by what we haue already deliuered.

10 1.81But we must not imagine, that the velocity of motion will alwayse encrease thus for as long as we can fancy any motion: but when it is arriued vnto the vtmost periode that such a mooueable with such causes is capable of then it keepeth constantly the same pace, and goeth equally and vniformely att the same rate. For since the density of the mooueable, and the force of the Agent mouing it, (which two, do cause the motion) haue a limited proportion to the resistance of the medium, how yielding soeuer it be; it must needes follow, that when the motion is arriued vnto that height which ariseth out of this proportion, it can not exceede it, but must continue at that rate, vnlesse some other cause giue yet a greater impulse to the moueable. For velocity consisting in this, that the moueable cutteth through more of the medium in an equall time; it is euident, that in the encrease of velocity, the resistance of the medium, which is ouercome by it; groweth greater and greater, and by litle and litle gaineth vpon the foree of the Agent; so that the superproportion of the Agent, groweth still lesser and lesser, as the velocity encreaseth:

and therefore, att the length they must come to be ballanced. And then, the velocity can encrease no more.

And the reason of the encrease of it, for a while att the beginning, is because that coming from rest it must passe, through all the intermediate degrees of velocity before it can attaine to the height of it, which requireth time to performe, and therefore falleth vnder the power of our sense to obserue. But because we see it do so for some time, we must not therefore conclude that the nature of such motion, is still to encrease without any periode or limit; like those lines that perpetually grow neerer, and yet can neuer meete: for we see that our reason examining the causes of this velocity, assureth vs that in continuance of time and space, it may come to its height, which it can not exceede.

And there, would be the pitch att which distance weights being lett fall, would giue the greatest stroakes and make greatest impressions. It is true that Galileus and Mersenius (two exact experimenters) do thinke they find this verity by their experiences. But surely that is impossible to be done; for the encrease of velocity being in a proportion euer diminishing; it must of necessity come to an insensible encrease in proportion before it endeth: for the space which the moueable goeth through, is still encreased; and the time wherein it passeth through that space, remaineth still the same litle one as was taken vp in passing a lesse space immediately before; and such litle differences of great spaces passed ouer in a litle time, come soone to be vndiscernable by sense. But reason (which sheweth vs, that if velocity neuer ceased from encreasing, it would in time arriue to exceede any particular velocity; and by consequence, the proportion which the moouer hath to the medium; because of the adding still a determinate part to its velocity) concludeth plainely that it is impossible, motion should encrease for euer, without coming to a periode.

Now the impression which falling weights do make,11 1.82 is of two kindes; for the body into which impression is made, either can yield backward, or it can not. If it can yield backward, then the impression made is a motion: as we see a stroak with a rackett vpon a ball, or with a pailemaile beetle vpon a boule, maketh it fly from it. But if the strucken body can not yield backwardes, then it maketh it yield on the sides. And this, in diuerse manners: for if the smitten body be dry and brittle, it is subiect to breake it, and make the pieces fly round about: but if it be a tough body, it squeeseth it into a larger forme.

But because the effect in any of these wayse is eminently greater then the force of the Agēt seemeth to be; it is worth our labour to looke into the causes of it. To which end we may remember how we haue already declared that the force of the velocity is equall to a reciprocall force of weight in the vertue mouent: wherefore the effect of a blow that a man giueth with a hammer, dependeth vpon the weight of the hammer, vpon the velocity of the motion, and vpon the hand, in case the hand accompanieth the blow. But if the motion of the hand ceaseth

before (as when we throw a thing) then onely the velocity and the weight of the hammer remaine to be considered. Howsoeuer, lett vs putt the hand and weight in one summe which we may equalise by some other vertue or weight. Then lett vs consider the way or space, which a weight lying vpon the thing is to goe forwardes to do the same effect in the same time as the percussion doeth. And what excesse the line of the blow, hath ouer the line of that way or space; such an excesse we must adde of equall weight or force, to the weight we had already taken. And the weight composed of both, will be a fitt Agent to make the like impression. This Probleme was proposed vnto me by that worthy religious man, Father Mersenius: who is not content with aduancing learning by his owne industry and labours; but besides, is alwayse (out of his generous affection to verity) inciting others to contribute to the publike stocke of it.

He proposed to me likewise this following question, to witt why there is required a weight of water in double Geometricall proportion, to make a pipe runne twice as fast as it did, or to haue twice as much water runne out in the same time? Vnto which I answere out of the same ground as before. That because in running twice as fast, there goeth out double water in euery part of time; and againe, euery part of water goeth a double space in the same part of time; that is to say because double the celerity is drawne into double the water, and double the water into double the celerity; therefore, the present effect is to the former effect, as the effect or quadrate of a double line drawne into it selfe, is, to the effect or quadrate of halfe the said line drawne into it selfe. And consequently the cause, of the latter effect (which is the weight then) must be to the cause of the former effect (that is, to the former weight) in the same proportion; namely as the quadrate of a double line, is to the quadrate of halfe that line. And so you see the reason of what he by experience findeth to be true. Though I doubt not but when he shall sett out the treatise, which he hath made of this subiect; the reader will haue better satisfaction.

In the meane while, an experience which Galileo deliuereth, will confirme this doctrine. He sayth that to make the same pendant goe twice as fast as it did, or to make euery vndulation of it in halfe the time it did; you must make the line att which it hangeth, double in Geometricall proportion, to the line att which it hanged before. Whence it followeth that the circle by which it goeth, is likewise in double Geometricall proportion. And this being certaine, that celerity to celerity hath the proportion of force, which weight hath to weight; it is euident, that as in one case there must be weight in Geometricall proportion; so in the other case, where onely celerity maketh the variance, the celerity must be in double Geometricall proportion, according as Galileo findeth it by experience.

But to returne to our maine intent, there is to be further noted,

that if the subiect strucken be of a proportionate cessibility, it seemeth to dull and deaden the stroake: whereas, if the thing strucken be hard the stroake seemeth to loose no force, but to worke a greater effect. Though indeed the truth be, that in both cases the effects are equall; but diuerse according to the natures of the thinges that are strucken; for no force that once is in nature, can be lost; but must haue its adequate effect, one way or other.

Lett vs then first suppose the body strucken to be a hard body of no exceeding biggnesse: in which case, if the stroake light perpen∣diculary vpon it, it will carry such a body before it. But if the body be too great, and haue its partes so conioyned, as that they are weaker thē the stroake; in this case, the stroake driueth one part before it, and so breaketh it from the rest. But lastly, if the partes of the strucken body be so easily cessible as without difficulty the stroake can diuide them, then it entereth into such a body vntill it hath spent its force. So that now making vp our account; we see that an equall effect proceedeth from an equall force, in all the three cases; though in themselues, they be farre different. But we are apt to account that effect greater, which is more considerable vnto vs, by the profitt or damage it bringeth vs. And therefore, we vsually say, that the blow which shaketh a wall, or beateth it downe, and killeth men with the stones it scattereth abroad; hath a greater effect then that which penetrateth farre into a mudde wall, and doth litle harme: for that innocuousnesse of the effect, maketh that although in it selfe it be as great as the other, yet it is litle obserued or considered.

This discourse draweth on an other:12 1.83 which is to declare how motion ceaseth. And to summe that vp in short, we say that when motion cometh vnto rest, it decreaseth and passeth through all the degrees of celerity and tardity that are betweene rest, and the height of that motion, which so declineth. And that, in the proportion of the odde numbers; as we declared aboue that it did encrease. The reason is cleare: because that which maketh a motion cease, is the resistance it findeth: which resistance, is an action of a moouer that mooueth some thing against the body which is mooued, or some thing equiualent to such an action: wherefore it must follow the lawes that are common to all motions: of which kind those two are that we haue expressed in this conclusion. Now, that resistance is a countermotion, or equiualent to one; is plaine by this; that any body which is pressed, must needes presse againe vpon the body that presseth it; wherefore the cause that hindereth such a body from yielding, is a force mouing that body, against the body which presseth it. The particulars of all which we shall more att large declare, where we speake of the action and reaction of particular bodies.

THE TENTH CHAPTER. Of Grauity and Leuity; and of Locall Motion, commonly termed Naturall.

1 1.84IT is now time to consider that distinction of motions which is so famous in Aristotle; to witt, that some motions are naturall, others violent: and to determine what may be signifyed by these termes. For seeing we haue said that no body hath a naturall intrinsecall inclination vnto any place, to which it is able to moue it selfe; we must needes conclude that the motion of euery body followeth the percussion, of extrinsecall Agents. It seemeth therefore impossible that any body should haue any motion naturall to it selfe. And if there be none naturall, there can be none violent. And so this distinction will vainsh to nothing. But on the other side, liuing creatures do manifesty shew naturall motions, hauing naturall instruments to performe certaine motions: wherefore such motions must of necessity be naturall to them. But these are not the motions, which we are to speake of; for Aristotles diuision is common to all bodies; or att the least, to all those we conuerse withall: and particulary, to those which are called heauy and light: which two termes, passe through all the bodies we haue notice of.

Therefore, proceeding vpon our groundes before layed; to witt, that no body can be mooued of it selfe; wee may determine those motions to be naturall vnto bodies which haue constant causes, or percutients to make them alwayse in such bodies: and those violent, which are contrary to such naturall motions. Which being supposed, we must search out the causes that so constantly make some bodies descend towardes the center or middle of the earth; and others to rise and goe from the center: by which, the world is subiect to those restlesse motions that keepe all thinges in perpetuall fluxe, in this changeing sphere of action and passion.

2 1.85Lett vs then begin with considering what effects the sunne (which is a constant and perpetuall cause) worketh vpon inferior bodies, by his being regularly sometimes present and sometimes absent. Obserue, in a pott of water hanging ouer a fire, how the heate maketh some partes of the water to ascend, and others to supply the roome by descending; so that as long as it boyleth, it is in a perpetuall confused motion vp and downe. Now hauing formely cōcluded that fire is light, and light is fire; it can not be doubted but that the sunne doth serue instead of fire to our globe of earth and water, (which may be fittly compared to the boyling pott;) and all the day long draweth vapors from those bodies that his beames strike vpon. For he shooting his little darts of fire, in multitudes, and in continued

streames, from his owne center, against the Python the earth we liue on; they do there ouertake one an other, and cause some degree of heate as farre as they sinke in. But not being able (by reason of their great expansion in their long iorney) to conuert it into their owne nature and sett it on fire, (which requireth a high degree of condensation of the beames) they do but pierce and diuide it very subtilely, and cutt some of the outward partes of it into extreme litle atomes. Vnto which they sticking very close, and being in a manner incorporated with them (by reason of the moisture that is in thē) they do in their rebound backe from the earth carry them along with them; like a ball that struck against a moist wall, doth in its returne from it, bring backe some of the mortar sticking vpon it. For the distance of the earth from the sunne, is not the vtmost periode of these nimble bodies flight; so that, when by this solide body they are stopped in their course forwardes on, they leape backe from it, and carry some litle partes of it with them: some of them, a farther; some of them, a shorter iorney; according as their litlenesse and rarity, make them fitt to ascend. As is manifest by the consent of all authors that write of the regions of the ayre; who determine the lower region to reach as farre as the reflexion of the sunne; and conclude this region to be very hoat.

For if we marke how the heate of fire is greatest, when it is incorporated in some dense body, (as in iron or in seacoale) we shall easily conceiue that the heate of this region proceedeth mainely out of the incorporation of light with those litle bodies which sticke to it in its reflexion. And experience testifyeth the same, both in our sultry dayes, which we see are of a grosse temper, and ordinarily goe before raine: as also in the hoat springes of extreme cold countries, where the first heates are vnsufferable; which proceede out of the resolution of humidity congealed: and in hoat windes, (which the Spaniards call Bochornos from Boca de horno by allusion to the breathing steame of an ouen when it is opened) which do manifestly shew that the heate of the sunne is incorporated in the litle bodies, which compose the steame of that wind. And by the principles we haue already layed, the same would be euident; though we had no experience to instruct vs; for seeing that the body of fire is dry, the wett partes (which are easilyest resolued by fire) must needes sticke vnto them,3 1.86 and accompany them in their returne from the earth.

Now whiles these ascend, the ayre must needes cause others that are of a grosser complexion to descend as fast, to make roome for the former and to fill the places they left, that there may be no vacuity in nature. And to find what partes they are and from whence they come, that succeede in the roome of light and atomes glewed together that thus ascend; we may take a hinte from the maxime of the Optikes, that light reflecting maketh equall angles; whence,

supposing the superficies of the earth to be circular, it will follow that a perpendicular to the center passeth iust in the middle betweene the two rayes; the incident and the reflected. Wherefore the ayre betweene these two rayes, and such dodies as are in it being equally pressed on both sides; those bodies which are iust in the middle, are neerest and likelyest to succeede immediately in the roome of the light and atomes which ascend from the superficies of the earth: and their motion to that point, is vpon the perpendicular. Hence it is euident, that the ayre and all such bodies as descend to supply the place of light and atomes, which ascend from the earth, do descend perpendicularly towardes the center of the earth.

And againe such bodies as by the force of light being cutt from the earth or water, do not ascend in forme of light, but do incorporate a hidden light and heate within them; (and thereby are rarer then these descending bodies) must of necessity be lifted vp by the descent of those denser bodies that goe downewardes, because they (by reason of their density) are mooued with a greater force. And this lifting vp, must be in a perpendicular line; because the others descending on all sides perpendicularly, must needes raise those that are betweene them equally from all sides: that is, perpendicularly from the center of the earth. And thus we see a motion sett on foote, of some bodies continually descending, and others continually ascending: all in perpendicular lines, excepting those which follow the course of lights reflexion.

Againe as soone as the declining sunne groweth weaker or leaueth our horizon, and that his beames vanishing do leaue the litle horsemen which rode vpon them, to their owne temper and nature (from whence they forced them;) they finding themselues surrounded by a smart descending streame, do tumble downe againe in the night, as fast as in the day they were carryed vp; and crowding into their former habitations, they exclude those that they find had vsurped them in their absence. And thus, all bodies within reach of the sunnes power, but especially our ayre, are in perpetuall motion; the more rarifyed ones ascending, and the dense ones descending.

4 1.87Now thē, because no bodies wheresoeuer they be (as we haue already shewed) haue any inclination to moue towardes a particular place, otherwise thē as they are directed and impelled by extrinsecall Agēts: lett vs suppose that a body were placed att liberty in the opē ayre. And then casting whether it would be mooued from the place we suppose it in; and which way it would be mooued; we shall find that it must of necessity happen that it shall descend and fall downe till it meete with some other grosse body to stay and support it. For although of it selfe it would mooue no way: yet if we find that any other body striketh efficaciously enough vpon it; we can not doubt but that it will mooue that way which the striking body impelleth it. Now it is

strucken vpon on both sides (aboue and below) by the ascending, and the descending atomes, the rare ones, striking vpon the bottome of it, and driuing it vpwardes, and the denser ones, pressing vpon the toppe of it and bearing it downewardes. But if you compare the impressions that the denser atomes make, with those that proceede from the rare ones; it is euident that the dense ones must be the more powerfull; and therefore will assuredly determine the motion of the body in the ayre, that way they goe; which is downewardes.

Nor neede we feare, least the litlenesse of the agents, or the feeblenesse of their stroakes, should not be sufficient to worke this effect; since there is no resistance in the body it selfe, and the ayre is continually cutt in pieces, by the sunne beames, and by the motions of litle bodies; so that the adhesion vnto ayre of the body to be mooued, will be no hinderance to this motion: especially, considering the perpetuall new percussions, and the multitude of them▪ and how no force is so litle, but that with time and multiplication it will ouercome any resistance.

But if any man desireth to looke vpon,5 1.88 as it were att one view; the whole chaine of this doctrine of grauity: lett him turne the first cast of his eyes vpon what we haue said of fire when we explicated the nature of it. To witt; that it beginneth from a litle source; and by extreme multi∣plication and rarefaction, it extendeth it selfe into a great sphere. And then he will perceiue the reason why light is darted from the body of the sunne with that incredible celerity, wherewith its beames flye to visite the remotest partes of the world; and how, of necessity, it giueth motion to all circumstant bodies; since it is violently thrust forward by so extreme a rarefaction; and the further it goeth, is still the more rarifyed and dilated.

Next, lett him reflect how infinitely the quickenesse of lights motion, doth preuent the motion of a moist body, such an one as ayre is: and then he will plainely see, that the first motion which light is able to giue vnto the ayre, must needes be a swelling of that moist element, perpen∣dicularly round about the earth; for, the ray descendent, and the ray reflectent, flying with so great a speede, that the ayre betweene them can not take a formall plye any way before the beames of light be on both sides of it: it followeth, that according to the nature of humide thinges, it must first onely swell: for that is the beginning of motion in them, when heate entereth into them, and worketh vpon them. And thus he may confidently resolue himselfe, that the first motion which light causeth in the ayre, will be a swelling of it betweene the two rayes towardes the middle of them. That is; perpendicularly from the surface of the earth.

And out of this, he will likewise plainely see, that if there be any other litle dense bodies floating in the ayre, they must likewise mount a litle, through this swelling and rising of the ayre. But that mounting will be no more then the immediate partes of the ayre themselues do moue.

Because this motion is not by way of impulse or stroake that the ayre giueth those denser bodies; but by way of containing them in it, and carrying them with it, ••o that it giueth them no more celerity, then to make them go with it selfe, and as partes of it selfe.

Then, lett him consider, that light or fire, by much beating vpon the earth, diuideth some litle partes of it from others: whereof if any do become so small and tractable, as not to exceede the strength which the rayes haue to manage them; the returning rayes, will att their going backe, carry away with them or driue before them, such litle atomes as they haue made or meete with: and so fill the ayre with litle bodies cutt out of the earth.

After this, lett him consider that when light carrieth vp an atome with it, the light and the atome do sticke together, and do make one ascending body; in such sort as when an empty dish lyeth vpon the water, the ayre in the dish maketh one descendent body together with the dish it selfe: so that the density of the whole body of ayre and dish (which in this case, are but as one body) is to be esteemed according to the density of the two partes; one of them being allayed by the other, as if the whole were throughout of such a proportion of density, as would arise out of the composition and kneading together the seuerall densities of those two partes. Now then, when these litle compounded bodies of light and earth, are carried vp to a determinate height; the partes of fire or light, do by litle and litle breake away from them: and thereby, the bulke of the part which is left, becometh of a different degree of density (quantity for quantity) from the bulke of the entire atome, when light was part of it: and consequently it is denser then it was.

Besides, lett him consider that when these bodies ascend; they do goe from a narrow roome to a large one, that is, from the centerwardes to the circumference: but when they come downe againe, they goe from a larger part to a narrower. Whence it followeth, that as they descend, they draw closer and closer together, and by consequence, are subiect to meete and to fall in, one with an other; and thereby, to encrease their bulke, and to become more powerfull in density; not onely, by the losse of their fire; but also by the encrease of their quantity. And so it is euident, that they are denser, coming downe, then going vp.

Lastly, lett him consider, that those atomes which went vp first, and are parted from their volatile companions of fire or light, must begin to come downe apace, when other new atomes (which still haue their light incorporated with them) do ascend to where they are, and do goe beyond them by reason of their greater leuity. And as the latter atomes come vp with a violence and a great celerity, so must the first goe downe with a smart impulse: and by consequence, being more dense then the ayre in which they are carryed, must of necessity cutt their way through that liquide and rare medium; and goe the next way to supply the defect and roome of the atomes which ascend; (that is, perpendicularly to the

earth) and giue the like motion to any body they find in their way, if it be susceptible of such a motion: which it is euident that all bodies are, vnlesse they be strucken by some contrary impulse. For since that a bodies being in a place, is nothing else but the continuity of its outside to the inside of the body that containeth it and is its place; it can haue no other repugnance to locall motion (which is nothing else but a successiue changing of place) besides this conti∣nuity. Now the nature of density, being the power of diuiding; and euery least power, hauing some force and efficacy, (as we haue shewed aboue) it followeth that the stroake of euery atome (eyther descending, or ascending) will worke some thing vpon any body (though neuer so bigge) it chanceth to encounter with, and strike vpon in its way, vnlesse there be as strong an impulse the contrary way, to oppose it. But it being determined, that the descending atomes are denser then those that ascend; it followeth, that the descending ones will preuayle. And consequently, all dense bodies must necessarily tend downewardes, to the center (which is, to be Heauy) if some other more dense body do not hinder them.

Out of this discourse,6 1.89 we may conclude that there is no such thing among bodies, as positiue grauity or leuity: but that their course vpwardes or downewardes happeneth vnto them by the order of nature, which by outward causes giueth them an impulse one of these wayes: without which, they would rest quietly wheresoeuer they are, as being of themselues indifferent to any motion. But because our wordes expresse our notions, and they are framed according to what appeareth vnto vs; when we obserue any body to descend constantly towardes our earth, we call it heauy; and if it mooue contrarywise, we call it light. But we must take heed of considering such grauity and leuity as if they were Entities that worke such effects: since vpon examination, it appeareth that these wordes are but short expressions of the effects themselues: the causes whereof, the vulgar of mankinde (who impose names to thinges) do not consider; but leaue that worke vnto Philosophers to examine; whiles they onely obserue, what they see done; and agree vpon wordes to expresse that. Which wordes neither will in all circumstances alwayes agree to the same thing; for as corke doth descend in ayre and ascend in water; so also will any other body descend if it lighteth among others more rare then it selfe, and will ascend if it lighteth among bodies that are more dense then it. And we terme bodies light and heauy, onely according to the course, which we vsually see them take.

Now proceeding further on;7 1.90 and considering how there are various degrees of density or grauity: it were irrationall to conceiue, that all bodies should descend att the same rate, and keepe equall pace with one an other, in their iourney downewardes. For as two knifes whereof one hath a keener edge then the other, being pressed with equall strength into like yielding matter, the sharper will cutt

deeper then the other: so, if of two bodies one be more dense then the other; that which is so, will cutt the ayre more powerfully, and will descend faster then the other: for in this case, density may be compared to the knifes edge, since in it consisteth the power of diuiding; as we haue heretofore determined. And therefore, the pressing them downewardes by the descending atomes, being equall in both (or peraduenture greater in the more dense body; as anone we shall haue occasion to touch) and there being no other cause to determine them that way; the effect of diuision must be the greater, where the diuider is the more powerfull. Which, the more dense body is; and therefore cutteth more strongly through the resistance of the ayre; and consequently, passeth more swiftly that way it is determined to mooue.

8 1.91I do not meane, that the velocities of their descent shall be in the same proportion to one an other, as their densities are: for besides their density, those other considerations which we haue discoursed of aboue when we examined the causes of velocity in motion, must likewise be ballanced. And out of the comparison of all them; not out of the consideration of any one alone, resulteth the differences of their velocities: (and that neither, but in as much as concerneth the consideration of the mooueables: for to make the calculation exact, the medium must likewise be considered; as by and by we shall declare) for since the motion dependeth of all them together; although there should be difference betweene the mooueables in regard of one onely, and that the rest were equall; yet the proportion of the difference of their motions, must not follow the proportion of their difference in that one regard: because their difference considered single in that regard will haue one proportion; and with the addition of the other considerations (though alike in both) to their difference in this, they will haue an other.

As for example, reckon the density of one mooueable to be double the density of an other mooueable; so that in that regard it hath two degrees of power to descend, whereas the other hath but one: suppose then the other causes of their descent to be alike in both, and reckon them all three: and then ioyne these three to the one which is caused by the density in one of the mooueables, as likewise to the two, which is caused by the density in the other mooueable: and you will find that thus altogether, their difference of power to descend is no longer in a double proportion (as it would be, if nothing but their density were considered) but is in the proportion of fiue to foure.

But after we haue considered all that concerneth the mooueables, we are then to cast an eye vpon the medium they are to mooue in; and we shall find the addition of that, to decrease the proportion of their difference, exceedingly more; according to the cessibility of the

medium. Which if it be ayre; the great disproportion of its weight, to the weight of those bodies which men vse to take in making experiences of their descent in that yielding medium; will cause their difference of velocity in descending, to be hardly perceptible. Euen as the difference of a sharpe or dull knife, which is easily perceiued in cutting of flesh or bread, is not to be distinguished in diuiding of water or oyle. And likewise in weights, a pound and a scruple will beare downe a dramme in no sensible proportion of velocity more then a pound alone would do: and yet putt a pound in that scale in¦stead of the dramme, and then the difference of the scruple will be very notable. So then, those bodies, whose difference of descending in water is very sensible (because of the greater proportion of weight in water, to the bodies that descend in it) will yield no sensible difference of velocity when they descend in ayre, by reason of the great disproportion of weight betweene ayre and the bodies that descend in it.

The reason of this will clearely shew it selfe in abstracted proportions. Thus; suppose ayre to haue one degree of density, and water to haue 400: then lett the mooueable A haue 410 degrees of density; and the mooueable B haue 500. Now compare their motion to one an other in the seuerall mediums of ayre and water. The exuperance of the density of A to water is 10 degrees, but the exupe∣race of B, vnto the same water, is 100 degrees; so that B must mooue in water, swifter then A, in the proportion of 100 to tenne; that is, of 10 to one. Then lett vs compre the exuperance of the two mooueables ouer ayre. A is 409 times more dense then ayre; but B is 499 times more dense then it. By which account, the motion of B, must be in that medium swifter then the motion of A, in the proportion of 499 to 409: that is, about 50, to 41: which (to auoyde fractions) we may account as 10 to 8. But in water they exceede one an other as 10 to one: so that their difference of velocity, must be scarce perceptible in ayre in respect of what it is in water.

Out of all which discourse, I onely inferre in common that a greater velocity in motion, will follow the greater density of the mooueable; without determining here their proportions: which I leaue vnto them, who make that examination their taske: for thus much serueth my present turne: wherein I take a suruay of nature, but in grosse. And my chiefe drift in this particular is onely to open the way for the discouering how bodies that of themselues haue no propension vnto any determinate place; do neuerthelesse mooue constantly and perpetually one way; the dense ones descending, and the rare ones ascending: not by any intrinsecall quality that worketh vpon them; but by the oeconomy of nature, that hath sett on foote due and plaine causes to produce knowne effects.

Here we must craue patience of the great soule of Galileo (whose

admirable learning all posterity must reuerence) whiles we reprehend in him,9 1.92 that which we can not terme lesse then absurd: and yet, he not onely mainetaineth it in seuerall places, but also professeth Dial. P^o de motu. pag. 8;. to make it more cleare then day. His position is, that more or lesse grauity contributeth nothing att all to the faster or slower descending of a naturall body: but that all the effect it giueth vnto a body, is to make it descend or not descend in such a medium. Which is against the first and most knowne principle that is in bodies: to witt, that more doth more; and lesse doth lesse; for he alloweth, that grauity causeth a body to descend; and yet will not allow, that more grauity causeth it to descend more.

I wonder that he neuer marked how in a paire of scales, a superproportion of ouerweight in one ballance, lifted vp the other faster then a lesse proportion of ouerweight would do. Or that more weight hanged to a iacke, made the spitt turne faster; or to the lines of a clocke, made it goe faster, and the like.

But his argument whereby he endeauoureth to prooue his position, is yet more wonderfull: for finding in pendants vnequall in grauity, that the lighter went in the same time almost as fast as the heauyer; he gathereth from thence, that the different weights haue each of them the same celerity: and that it is the opposition of the ayre, which maketh the lighter body not reach so farre at each vndulation, as the heauyer doth. For reply wherevnto; first we must aske him; whether experience or reason taught him, that the slower going of the lighter pendant, proceeded onely from the medium, and not from want of grauity? And when he shall haue answered (as he needes must) that experience doth not shew this; then we must importune him for a good reason: but I do not find that he bringeth any att all.

Againe; if he admitteth (which he doth in expresse termes) that a lighter body can not resist the medium, so much as a heauyer body can; we must aske him, whether it be not the weight that maketh the heauyer body resist more: which when he hath acknowledged that it is; he hath therein likewise acknowledged, that whensoeuer this happeneth in the descending of a body, the more weight must make the heauyer body descend faster.

But we can not passe this matter without noting how himselfe maketh good those arguments of Aristotle, which he seemeth by no meanes to esteeme of: for since the grauity doth ouercome the resistance of the medium in some proportion; it followeth that the proportions betweene the grauity and the medium, may be multiplyed without end; so as, if he suppose that the grauity of a body do make it goe att a certaine rate in imaginary space, (which is his manner of putting the force of grauity,) then there may be giuen such a proportion of a heauy body to the medium, as it shall goe in such a medium att the same rate; and neuerthelesse, there will be an

infinite difference, betwixt the resistance of the medium compared to that body, and the resistance of the imaginary space compared to that other body which he supposeth to be mooued in it at the same rate: which no man will sticke att confessing to be very absurd.

Then turning the scales, because the resistance of the medium doth somewhat hinder grauity, and that with lesse resistance, the heauy body mooueth faster; it must follow, that since there is no proportion, betwixt the medium and imaginary space; there must neither be any proportion betwixt the time in which a heauy body shall passe through a certaine quantity of the medium, and the time in which it shall passe through as much imaginary space: wherefore, it must passe ouer so much imaginary space in an instant. Which is the argument that Aristotle is so much laughed att for pressing. And in a word, nothing is more euident, then that, for this effect which Galileo attributeth to grauity, it is vnreasonable to putt a diuisible quality, since the effect is indiuisible. And therefore, as euident it is that in his doctrine such aquality; as intrinsecall grauity is conceiued to be, ought not to be putt: since euery power should be fitted to the effect, or end for which it is putt.

An other argument of Galileo is as bad as this; when he endeauoureth to prooue that all bodies goe of a like velocity, because it happeneth that a lighter body in some case, goeth faster then a heauyer body in an other case▪ as for example, in two pendants, whereof the lighter is in the beginning of its motion, and the heauyer towardes the end of it; or if the lighter hangeth att a longer string, and the heauyer att a shorter; we see that the lighter will goe faster then the heauyer. But this concludeth no more, then if a man should prooue that a lighter goeth faster then a heauyer, because a greater force can make it goe faster; for it is manifest that in a violent motion, the force which mooueth a body in the end of its course, is weaker then that which mooueth it in the beginning: and the like is, of the two stringes.

But here it is not amisse to solue a Probleme he putteth,10 1.93 which belongeth to our present subiect. He findeth by experience, that if two bodies descend att the same time from the same point, and do goe to the same point, the one by the inferiour quarter of the cercle; the other, by the chord to that arch, or by any other lines which are chordes to partes of that arch: he findeth (I say) that the mooueable goeth faster by the arch, then by any of the chordes. And the reason is euident, if we consider that the neerer any motion doth come vnto a perpendicular one downewardes, the greater velocity it must haue and that in the arch of such a quadrant, euery particular part of it inclineth to the perpendi∣cular of the place where it is, more then the part of the chord answerable vnto it doth.

THE ELEVENTH CHAPTER. An answere to obiections against the causes of naturall motion, auowed in the former chapter; and a refutation of the contrary opinion.

1 1.94BVt to returne to the thridde of our doctrine; there may peraduenture be obiected against it, that if the violence of a bodies descent towardes the center, did proceede onely from the density of it (which giueth it an aptitude, the better to cutt the medium) and from the multitude of litle atomes descending that strike vpon it, and presse it the way they goe; which is downewardes: then it would not import whether the inner part of that body were as solide as the outward partes; for it cutteth with onely the outward, and is smitten onely vpon the outward. And yet experience, sheweth vs the contrary: for a great bullet of lead, that is solide and lead throughout; descendeth faster then if three quarters of the diameter were hollow within; and such a one falling vpon any resisting substance, worketh a greater effect then a hollow one. And a ball of brasse that hath but a thinne outside of mettall will swimme vpon the water, when a massie one sinketh presently. Whereby it appeareth, that it is rather some other quality belonging to the very bulke of the metall in it selfe; and not these outward causes, that occasion grauity.

But this difficulty is easily ouercome, if you consider how subtile those atomes are which descending downewardes and striking vpon a body in their way, do cause its motion likewise downewardes: for you may remember how we haue shewed them to be the subtilest and the minutest diuisions that light, the subtilest and sharpest diuider in nature, can make. It is then easye to conceiue that these extreme subtile bodies do penetrate all others, as light doth glasse; and do runne through them, as sand doth through a small sieue, or as water through a spunge; so that they strike, not onely vpon the superficies, but aswell in euery most interiour part of the whole body; running quite through it all, by the pores of it. And then, it must needes follow that the solider it is; and the more partes it hath within (as well as without) to be strucken vpon; the faster it must goe; and the greater effect it must worke in what it falleth vpon: whereas if three quarters of the diameter of it within, should be filled with nothing but with ayre; the atomes would fly without any considerable effect through all that space, by reason of the rarity and cessibility of it.

And that these atomes are thus subtile; is manifest by seuerall effects which we see in nature. Diuers Authors that write of Egypt, do assure vs that though their houses be built of strong stone; neuerthelesse, a clodde of earth layed in the inmost roomes, and shutt vp from all

appearing communication with ayre, will encrease its weight so notably, as thereby they can iudge the change of weather, which will shortly ensue. Which can proceede from no other cause, but from a multitude of litle atomes of saltpeter; which floating in the ayre, do penetrate through the strongest walls, and all the massie defences in their way, and do settle in the clodde of earth as soone as they meete with it; because it is of a temper fitt to entertaine and to conserue, and to embody them. Delights haue shewed vs the way, how to make the spirits or atomes of snow and saltpeter passe through a glasse vessell; which Alchimists hold to be the most impenetrable of all they can find to worke with. In our owne bodies; the aches which feeble partes do feele before change of weather, and the heauynesse of our heades and shoulders, if we remaine in the open ayre presently after sunnesett; do aboundantly testify, that euen the grosser of these atomes (which are the first that fall) do vehemently penetrate our bodies: so as, sense will make vs beleeue, what reason peraduenture could not.

But besides all this, there is yet a more conuincing reason, why the descending atomes should mooue the whole density of a body; euen though it were so dense that they could not penetrate it, and gett into the bowels of it; but must be content to strike barely vpon the outside of it. For nature hath so ordered the matter, that when dense partes sticke close together, and make the length composed of them to be very stiffe▪ one can not be mooued but that all the rest (which are in that line) must likewise be thereby mooued: so that if all the world wery composed of atomes, close sticking together, the least motion imaginable, must driue on all that were in a straight line, to the very end of the world. This you see is euident in reason. And experience confirmeth it, when by a litle knocke giuen att the end of a long beame, the shaking (which maketh sound) reacheth sensibly to the other end. The blind man that gouerneth his steppes by feeling, in defect of eyes, receiueth aduertisements of remote thinges, through a staffe which he holdeth in his handes, peraduenture more particularly then his eyes could haue directed him. And the like is of a deafe man that heareth the sound of an instrument, by holding one end of a sticke in his mouth, whiles the other end resteth vpō the instrumēt. And some are of opiniō (and they, not of the ranke of vulgar Philosophers) that if a staffe were as long as to reach from the sunne to vs, it would haue the same effect in a moment of time. Although for my part I am hard to beleeue that we could receiue an aduertisement so farre, vnlesse the staffe were of such a thicknesse as being proportionable to the length might keepe it from facile bending: for if it should be very plyant it would do vs no seruice: as we experience in a thridde, which reaching from our hand to the ground, if it knocke against any thing, maketh no sensible impression in our hand.

So that in fine reason, sense and authority do all of them shew vs, that

the lesse the atomes should penetrate into a moouing body, by reason of the extreme density of it, the more efficaciously they would worke, and the greater celerity they would cause in its motion. And hence we may giue the fullest solution to the obiection aboue, which was to this effect: that seeing, diuision is made onely by the superficies or exteriour part of the dense body; and that the vertue whereby a dense body doth worke, is onely its resistance to diuision; which maketh it apt to diuide: it would follow that a hollow boule of brasse or iron should be as heauy as a solide one. For we may answere, that seeing the atomes must stricke through the body; and that a cessible body doth not receiue their stroakes so firmely as a stiffe one; nor can conuey them so farre: if vnto a stiffe superficies there succeede a yielding inside, the stroakes must of necessity loose much of their force; and consequently, can not mooue a body full of ayre, with so much celerity, or with so much efficacy, as they may a solide one.

2 1.95But then, you may peraduenture say, that if these stroakes of the descending atomes vpon a dense body, were the cause of its motion downewardes, we must allow the atomes to mooue faster then the dense body; that so, they may still ouertake it, and driue it along, and enter into it: whereas, if they should mooue slower then it, none of them could come in their turne to giue it a stroake, but it would be past them, and out of their reach before they could strike it. But it is euident (say you) out of these pretended causes of this motion, that such atomes can not mooue so swiftly downewardes, as a great dense body; since their litlenesse and their rarity, are both of them hindering to their motion: and therefore, this can not be the cause of that effect which we call grauity.

To this I reply; that to haue the atomes giue these blowes to a descending dense body, doth not require that their naturall and ordinary motion should be swifter then the descent of such a dense body: but the very descent of it, occasioneth their striking it, for as it falleth and maketh it selfe a way through them, they diuide themselues before it, and swell on the sides and a litle aboue it, and presently close againe behind it and ouer it as soone as it is past. Now that closing, to hinder vacuity of space, is a suddaine one; and thereby attaineth great velocity; which would carry the atomes in that degree of velocity, further then the descending body, if they did not encounter with it in their way to retarde them: which encounter and retarding, implyeth such stroakes, vpon the dense body, as we suppose to cause this motion. And the like we see in water; into which letting a stone fall; presently the water that was diuided by the stone and swelleth on the sides higher, then it was before, closeth vpon the backe of the descending stone, and followeth it so violently, that for a while after, it leaueth a purling hole in the place where the stone went downe; till by the repose of the stone, the water returneth likewise to its quiet; and so, its superficies becometh euen.

In the third place, an enquiry occurreth emergent out of this doctrine,

of the cause of bodies moouing vpwardes and downewardes.3 1.96 Which is; whether there would be any naturall motion deepe in the earth, beyond the actiuity of the sunnes beames? For out of these principles, it followeth that there would not: and consequently, there must be a vast orbe in which there would be no motion of grauity or of leuity: for suppose that the sunne beames might pierce a thousand miles deepe into the body of the earth; yet there would still remaine a masse, whose diameter would be neere 5000 miles, in which there would be no grauitation nor the contrary motion.

For my part, I shall make no difficulty to grant the inference, as farre as concerneth motion caused by our sunne: for what inconuenience would follow out of it? But I will not offer att determining whether there may not be enclosed within that great sphere of earth, some other fire, (such as the Chymistes talke of) an Archeus; a Demogorgon; seated in the center, like the hart in animals; which may raise vp vapours, and boyle an ayre out of them, and diuide grosse bodies into atomes; and accordingly giue them motions, answerable to ours, but in different lines from ours, according as that fire or sunne is situated: since the farre-searching Author of the Dialogues de Mundo, hath left that speculation vndecided, after he had touched vpon it in the 12: knott of his first Dialogue.

Fourthly,4 1.97 it may be obiected that if such descending atomes, as we haue described, were the cause of a bodies grauity, and descending towardes the center; the same body would att diuers times descend more and lesse swiftly: for example after midnight when the atomes begin to descend more slowly; then likewise, the same body would descend more slowly in a like proportion, and not weigh so much as it did in the heate of the day. The same may be said of summer and winter: for in winter time, the atomes seeme to be more grosse; and consequently, to strike more strongly vpon the bodies they meete with in their way as they descend: yet on the other side, they seeme in the summer to be more numerous, as also to descend from a greater height; both which circumstances will be cause of a stronger stroake and more vigourous impulse vpon the body they hitt. And the like may be obiected of diuers partes of the world, for in the torride zone it will alwayes happen as in summer in places of the temperate zone; and in the polar climes, as in deepest winter: so that no where, there would be any standard or certainty in the weight of bodies, if it depended vpon so mutable a cause. And it maketh to the same effect, that a body which lyeth vnder a thicke rocke, or any other very dense body, that can not be penetrated by any great store of atomes; should not be so heauy as it would be in the open and free ayre, where the atomes in their complete numbers haue their full stroakes.

For answere to these and such like instances; we are to note first, that it is not so much the number, or the violence of the percussion, of the striking atomes, as the density of the thing strucken which giueth the measure to the descending of a weighty body: and the chiefe thing which the stroake of the atomes giueth vnto a dense body, is a determination of the way which a dense body is to cutt vnto it selfe: therefore, multiplication or lessening of the atomes, will not make any sensible difference betwixt the weight of one dense body, where many atomes do strike, and an other body of the same density where but few do strike; so that, the stroake downewardes of the descending atomes, be greater then the stroake vpwardes of the ascending atomes; and thereby determineth it to weigh to the centerwardes, and not rise floating vpwardes, which is all the sensible effect we can perceiue.

Next, we may obserue, that the first particulars of the obiection, do not reach home to enfeeble our doctrine in this particular, although we admitt them to be in such sort as they are proposed: for they do withall implye such a perpetuall variation of causes, euer fauourable to our position, that nothing can be inferred out of them to repugne against it. As thus: when there are many atomes descending in the ayre; the same generall cause which maketh them be many, maketh them also be light, in proportion to their multitude. And so, when they are few, they are heauy; likewise, when the atomes are light, the ayre is rarifyed and thinne; and when they are heauy, the ayre is thicke: and so vpon the whole matter it is euident that we can not make such a precise and exact iudgement of the variety of circumstances, as to be able to determine, when there is absolutely more cause of weight; and when lesse. And as we find not weight enough in either side of these opposite circumstances to turne the scales in our discourse, so likewise we find the same indifference in experience it selfe: for the weights we vse, do weigh equally in mysty weather and in cleare: and yet in rigour of discourse, we can not doubt but that in truth they do not grauitate or weigh so much (though the difference be imperceptible to sense) when the ayre is thicke and foggy, as when it is pure and rarifyed: which thickenesse of the medium, when it arriueth to a very notable degree, as for example to water, maketh then a great difference of a heauy bobies grauitation in it; and accordingly, we see a great difference betweene heauy bodies descending in water and in ayre; though betweene two kindes of ayre, none is to be obserued, their difference is so small in respect of the density of the body that descendeth in thē. And therefore, seeing that an assured and certaine difference in circumstances maketh no sensible inequality in the effect; we can not expect any from such circumstances, as we may reasonably doubt whether there be any inequality among thē or no.

Besides that, if in any of the proposed cases, a heauy body should grauitate more, and be heauyer one time then an other; yet by weighing it, we could not discerne it; since that the counterpoise (which is to determine its weight) must likewise be in the same proportion heauyer then it was. And besides weighing, no other meanes remaineth to discouer its greater grauitation, but to compare it to time in its descent: and I beleeue that in all such distances as we can try it in, its inequalities will be no whitt lesse difficult to be obserued that way, then any other.

Lastly,5 1.98 to bend our discourse particularly to that instance of the obiection; where it is conceiued that if grauity or descending downewardes of bodies, proceeded from atomes striking vpon them as they mooue downewardes; it would follow that a stone or other dense body lying vnder shelter of a thicke, hard, and impenetrable adamantine rocke, would haue no impulse downewardes, and consequently would not weigh there. We may note that no body whatsoeuer, compacted by physicall causes and agents, can be so dense and imporous, but that such atomes, as these we speake of, must be in them, and in euery part of them, and euery where passe through and through them; as water doth through a seeue or through a spunge: and this vniuersall maxime must extend as farre as the sunne, or as any other heate communicating with the sunne, doth reach and is found.

The reason whereof, is, because these atomes are no other thing, but such extreme litle bodies as are resolued by heate; out of the maine stocke of those massy bodies vpon which the sunne and heate do worke. Now then, it being certaine, out of what we haue heretofore said, that all mixt bodies haue their temper and consistence, and generation from the mingling of fire with the rest of the Elements that compose them; and from the concoction or digestion which fire maketh in those bodies: it is euident, that no mixt body whatsoeuer, nor any sensible part of a mixt body, can be voyde of pores capable of such atomes, nor can be without such atomes, passing through those pores; which atomes by mediation of the ayre (that likewise hath its share in such pores) must haue communication with the rest of the great sea of ayre, and with the motions that passe in it. And consequently; in all and in euery sensible part, of any such extreme dense, and pretended impenetrable body, (to the notice whereof we can arriue) this percussion of atomes must be found; and they will haue no difficulty in running through; nor, by meanes of it, in striking any other body lying vnder the shelter of it; and thus both in, and from, that hard body, there must be still an vn∣interrupted continuation of grauity or of descending towardes the center.

Vnto which we may adde, that the stone or dense body can not lye

so close to the rocke that couereth it, but that some ayre must be betweene, (for if nothing were betweene, they would be vnited, and become one continued body;) and in that ayre (which is a creeke of the great ocean of ayre spread ouer the world, that is euery where bestrewed with moouing atomes; and which is continually fed, like a running streame, with new ayre that driueth on the ayre it ouertaketh) there is no doubt but there are descending atomes, as well as in all the rest of its maine body: and these descending atomes meeting with the stone, must needes giue some stroake vpon it; and that stroake (be it neuer so litle) can not choose but worke some effect, in making the stone remooue a litle that way they goe; and that motion, whereby the space is enlarged, betweene the stone and the sheltering rocke, must draw in a greater quantity of ayre and atomes to strike vpon it. And thus, by litle and litle, the stone passeth through all the degrees of tardity by which a descending body parteth from rest: which is by so much the more speedily done, by how much the body is more eminent in density. But this difference of time, in regard of the atomes stroakes onely; and abstracting from the bodies density; will be insensible to vs; seeing (as we haue said) no more is required of them, but to giue a determination downewardes.

6 1.99And out of this, we clearely see the reason why the same atomes, striking vpon one body lying vpon the water, do make it sinke; and vpon an other, they do not. As for example, if you lay vpon the superficies of some water, a piece of iron, and a piece of corke, of equall biggenesse and of the same figure; the iron will be beaten downe to the bottome, and the corke will floate att the toppe. The reason whereof is, the different proportions of the comparison of their densities with the density of water: for (as we haue said) the efficacy, and force of descēding, is to be measured by that. So then, the stroakes of the atomes, being more efficacious vpon water then vpon corke, because the density of water is greater then the density of corke considering the aboundance of ayre that is harboured in the large pores of it; it followeth that the atomes will make the water goe downe more forcibly then they will corke. But the density of iron exceeding the density of water; the same stroakes will make the iron descend faster then the water; and consequently the iron must sinke in the water, and the corke will swimme vpon it.

And this same is the cause, why if a piece of corke be held by force att the bottome of the water; it will rise vp to the toppe of the water, as soone as the violence is taken away that kept it downe: for the atomes stroakes hauing more force vpon the water then vpon the corke; they make the water sinke and slide vnder it; first, a litle thinne plate of water; and then an other, a litle thicker; and so by degrees more and more, till it hath lifted the corke quite vp to the toppe.

Fi••thly it may be obiected, that these atomes do not descend alwayse perpendicularly, be sometimes sloapingly; and in that case, if their

stroakes be the cause of dense bodies mouing,7 1.100 they should moue sloaping, and not downeward. Now that these atomes descend sometimes sloapingly, is euident, as when (for example) they meete with a streame of water, or with a strong wind, or euen with any other litle motion of the ayre, such as carryeth feathers vp and downe hither and thither; which must needes waft the atomes in some measure along with them their way; seeing then that such a gentle motion of the ayre is able to putt a feather out of its way, notwithstanding the percussions of the atomes vpon it; why shall it not likewise putt a piece of iron out of its way downewardes, since the iron hath nothing from the atomes but a determination to its way? But much more, why should not a strong wind, or a current of water, do it; since the atomes themselues that giue the iron its determination, must needes be hurryed along with them?

To this we answere, that we must consider, how any wind or water which runneth in that sort, is it selfe originally full of such atomes which continually, and euery where, presse into it and cutt through it, in pursuing their constant perpetuall course of descending; in such sort, as we haue shewed in their running, through any hard rocke, or other densest body. And these atomes, do make the wind or the water primarily tend downewardes; though other accidentall causes impell them secondarily to a sloaping motion. And still, their primary naturall motion will be in truth strongest; though their not hauing scope to obey that, but their hauing enough, to obey the violent motion, maketh this become the more obseruable. Which appeareth euidently out of this; that if there be a hole in the bottome of the pipe that conueyeth water sloapingly, be the pipe neuer so long, and consequently the sloaping motion neuer so forcible; yet the water will runne out att that hole to obey its more powerfull impulse to the centerwardes, rather then continue the violent motion, in which it had arriued to a great degree of celerity.

Which being so, it is easy to conceiue that the atomes in the wind or water which mooue perpendicularly downewardes, will still continue the irons motion downewardes, notwithstanding the mediums sloaping motion: since the preuailing force determineth, both the iron, and the medium downewardes; and the iron hath a superproportion of density to cutt its way, according as the preualent motion determineth it.

But if the descending atomes, be in part carryed along downe the streame by the current of wind or water; yet still the current bringeth with it, new atomes into the place of those that are carryed away: and these atomes, in euery point of place wheresoeuer they are, do of themselues tend perpendicularly downewardes; howbeit they are forced from the complete effect of their tendance, by the violence of the current: so that in this case they are mooued by a declining motion, compounded of their owne naturall motion, and of the forced motion,

with which the streame carryeth them. Now then if a dense body, do fall into such a current where these different motions giue their seuerall impulses, it will be carryed (in such sort as we say of the atomes; but in an other proportion) not in a perpendicular but in a mixt declining line, compounded of the seuerall impulses, which the atomes and the current do giue it (in which also it is to be remembred, how the current giueth an impulse downewardes, as well as sloaping; and peraduenture the strongest downewardes:) and the declination will be more or lesse; according, as the violent impulse preuayleth more or lesse against the naturall motion.

But this is not all that is to be considered in estimating the declination of a dense bodies motion when it is sinking in a current of wind or water; you must remember that the dense body it selfe, hath a particular vertue of its owne (namely its density) by which it receiueth and prosecuteth more fully its determination downewardes; and therefore the force of that body in cutting its way through the medium, is also to be considered in this case, as well as aboue, in calculating its declining from the perpendicular; and out of all these causes will result a middle declination, cōpounded of the motiō of the water or wind both wayse, and of its owne motion by the perpendicular line. And since of these three causes of a dense bodies motion, its owne vertue in prosecuting by its density the determination it requireth, is the most efficacious by much after it hath once receiued a determination from without; its declination will be but litle if it be very dense and heauy. But if it recede much from density, so as to haue, some neere proportion to the density of the medium, the declination will be great. And in a word, according as the body is heauyer or lighter, the declination will be more or lesse, in the same current though not exactly according to the proportion of the diminishing of its density, as long as there is a superproportion of its density to the medium: since that such a superproportion (as we haue declared heretofore) maketh the mediums operation vpon the dense body scarce considerable.

And hence you see why a stone or piece of iron, is not carried out of its way as well as feather; because the stones motion downewardes, is greater and stronger, then the motion of a feather downewardes. And by consequence, the force that can deturne a feather from its course downewardes, is not able to deturne a stone. And if it be replyed, that it may be so ordered that the stone shall haue no motion, before it be in the streame of a riuer, and notwithstanding it will still mooue downewardes; we may answere, that considering the litle decliuity of the bed of such a streame, the strongest motion of the partes of the streame, must necessarily be downewardes; and consequently, they will beate the stone downewardes. And if they do not the like to a feather or other light body; it is because other partes of the streame, do gett vnder the light body; and beate it vpwardes, which they haue not power enough to do to the stone.

Sixthly,8 1.101 it may be obiected, that if Elements do not weigh in their owne spheres; then their grauity and descending must proceede from some other cause and not from this percussion of the atomes we attribute it to; which percussion we haue determined goeth through all bodies whatsoeuer, and beateth vpon euery sensible part of them. But that Elements weigh not in their owne spheres, appeareth out of the experience of a syphon; for though one legge of the syphon, be suncke neuer so much deeper into the body of the water, then the other legge reacheth below the superficies of the water: neuerthelesse, if once the outward legge become full of water, it will draw it out of the other longer legge: which it should not do, if the partes of water that are comprised within their whole bulke, did weigh; seeing that the bulke of water is much greater, in the sunke legge then in the other: and therefore these should rather draw backe the other water into the cisterne, then be themselues drawne out of it into the ayre.

To this we answere that it is euident the Elements do weigh in their owne spheres, att least, as farre as we can reach to their spheres: for we see that a ballone stuffed hard with ayre is heauyer then an empty one. Againe more water would not be heauyer then lesse if the inward partes of it did not weigh: and if a hole were digged in the bottome of the sea, the water would not runne into it and fill it, if it did not grauitate ouer it. Lastly, there are those who vndertake to distinguish in a deepe water, the diuers weights which seuerall partes of it haue, as they grow still heauyer and heauyer towardes the bottome: and they are so cunning in this art, that they professe to make instruments which by their equality of their weight to a determinate part of the water, shall stand iust in that part, and neyther rise nor fall higher or lower: but if it be putt lower, it shall ascend to its exact equally weighing orbe of the water; and if it be putt higher, it shall descend vntill it cometh to rest precisely in that place. Whence it is euident, that partes of water do weigh within the bulke, of their maine body; and of the like we haue no reason to doubt, in the other two weighty Elements.

As for the opposition of the syphon, we referre that point to where we shall haue occasion to declare the nature of that engine, of sett purpose. And there we shall shew, that it could not succeede in its operation, vnlesse the partes of water did grauitate in their maine bulke, into which one legge of the syphon is sunke.

Lastly,9 1.102 it may be obiected, that if there were such a course of atomes as we say; and that their stroakes were the cause of so notable an effect, as the grauity of heauy bodies: we should feele it palpably in our owne bodies, which experience sheweth vs we do not.

To this we answere first: that their is no necessity we should feele this course of atomes, since by their subtility they penetrate all bodies; and consequently, do not giue such stroakes as are sensible. Secondly, if we consider that dustes, and strawes, and feathers do light vpon vs without

causing any sense in vs; much more we may cōceiue that atomes (which are infinitely more subtile and light) can not cause in vs any feeling of them. Thirdly, we see that what is continuall with vs, and mingled in all thinges doth not make vs take any especiall notice of it: and this is the case of the smiting of atomes. Neuerthelesse, peraduenture we feele them in truth, as often as we feele hoat and cold weather, and in all catarres or other such changes, which do as it were sinke into our body without our perceiuing any sensible cause of them: for no question but these atomes are the immediate causes of all good and bad qualities in the ayre. Lastly, when we consider that we can not long together hold out our arme att length, or our foote from the ground, and reflect vpon such like impotencies of our resisting the grauity of our owne body: we can not doubt, but that in these cases we feele the effect of these atomes, working vpon those partes; although we can not by our sense discerne immediately that these are the causes of it.

10 1.103But now it is time to draw our Reader out of a difficulty, which may peraduenture haue perplexed him in the greatest part of what he hath hitherto gone ouer. In our inuestigation of the Elements, we tooke for a principle therevnto: that grauity, is sometimes more, sometimes lesse, then the density of the body in which it is. But in our explication of rarity and density; and againe in our explication of grauity; we seeme to putt, that grauity and density is all one. This thorne I apprehend, may in all this distance, haue putt some to paine: but it was impossible for mee to remedy it; because I had not yet deliuered the manner of grauitation. Here then I will do my best, to asswage their greefe, by reconciling these appearing repugnancies.

We are therefore to consider, that density (in it selfe) doth signify a difficultie to haue the partes of its subiect in which it is, seperated one from an other; and that grauity (likewise in it selfe) doth signify a quality, by which a heauy body doth descend towardes the center; or (which is consequent therevnto) a force to make an other body descend. Now this power, we haue shewed, doth belong vnto density, so farre forth as a dense body being strucken by an other, doth not yield by suffering its partes to be diuided; but, with its whole bulke striketh the next before it, and diuideth it, if it be more diuisible then it selfe is. So that you see, density hath the name of density, in consideration of a passiue quality or rather of an impassibility, which it hath; and the same density is called grauity, in respect of an actiue quality it hath which followeth this impassibility. And both of them are estimated by the different respects which the same body or subiect, in which they are, haue vnto different bodies that are the termes whereunto it is compared; for the actiue quality or grauity of a dense body, is esteemed by its respect to the body it striketh vpon; whereas its density, includeth a respect singly to the body that striketh it.

Now it is no wonder that this change of comparison, worketh a

disparity in the denominations: and that thereby, the same body, may be conceiued to be more or lesse impartible, then it is actiue or heauy. As for example, lett vs, of a dense Element, take any one least part, which must of necessity be in its owne nature and kind absolutely impartible: and yet it is euident, that the grauity of this part must be exceeding litle, by reason of the litlenesse of its quantity; so that thus you see an extremity of the effect of density, ioyned together in one body (by the accident of the litlenesse of it) with a contrary extremity of the effect of grauity, (or rather with the want of it) each of them within the limits of the same species. In like manner it happeneth, that the same body in one circumstance is more weighty; in an other (or rather in the contrary) is more partible: so water when it is in a payle, because it is thereby hindered frō spreading abroad, hath the effect of grauity predominating in it; but if it be poured out, it hath the effect of partibility more. And thus it happeneth that meerely by the gradation of rarity and density, one dense body may be apt, out of the generall course of naturall causes, to be more diuisible, thē to be a diuider; though according to the nature of the degrees considered absolutely in thēselues, what is more powerfull to diuide, is also more resistēt and harder to be diuided. And this arriueth in that degree which maketh water; for the falling and beating of the atomes vpon water, hath the power, both to diuide it and to mak•• it descend; but so, that by making it descend it diuideth it. And therefore we say that it hath more grautty then density, though it be the very density of it, which is the cause that maketh it partible, by the working of one part vpon an other: for if the atomes did not find the body, so dense as it is, they could not by their beating vpon one part make an other be diuided.

So that, a dense body to be more heauy then dense, signifyeth nothing else, but that it is in such a degree of density, ••hat some of its owne partes, by their being assisted and sett on worke by a generall cause, (which is the fall of the atomes) are powerfull enough to diuide, other adioyning partes of the same density with them, one from an other: in such sort as we see, that water poured out of an eawer into a basen where there is already other water, hath the power to diuide the water in the basen by the assistance of the celerity which it getteth in descending. And now I hope the reader is fully satisfyed that there is no contradiction in putting Density and Grauity to be the same thing materially; and that neuerthelesse the same thing, may be more heauy then dense, or more dense then heauy, as we tooke it to our seuerall purposes in the inuestigation of the Elements.11 1.104

Hauing, thus layed an intelligible ground to discouer how these motions that are generall to all bodies, and are naturall in chiefe, are contriued by nature: we will now endeauour to shew that the contrary position is not onely voluntary, but also impossible. Lett vs therefore suppose that a body hath a quality to mooue it downewardes. And first

wee shall aske what downewardes signifyeth: for eyther it signifyeth towardes a fixed point of imaginary space; or towardes a fixed point of the vniuerse; or towardes some mooueable point. As for the first, who would maintaine it must haue more imagination then iudgment, to thinke that a naturall quality could haue an essence determined by a nothing: because we can frame a conceit of that nothing. As for the second, it is very vncertaine, whether any such point be in nature: for, as for the center of the earth it is cleare that if the earth, be carryed about, the center of it can not be a fixed point. Againe, if the center signifyeth a determinate point in the earth that is the medium of grauity or of quantity, it is changed as often as any dust lighteth vnequally vpon any one side of the earth, which would make that side bigger then it was: and I doubt a quality can not haue morall considerations to thinke that so litle doth no harme. As for the third position, likewise it is not intelligible how a quality should change its inclination or essence, according to the change that should light to make now one point, now an other, be the center vnto which it should tend.

Againe, lett vs consider that a quality hath a determinate essence. Then seeing its power is to mooue, and to moue, signifyeth to cutt the mediū it is mooued in; it belongeth vnto it of its nature, to cutt so much of such a medium in such a time. So that, if no other cause be added but that you take precisely and in abstracto, that quality, that medium, and that time; this effect will follow, that so much motion is made. And if this effect should not follow, it is cleare, that the being able to cutt so much of such a medium in such a time, is not the essence of this quality, as it was supposed to be. Diuiding then the time, and the medium, halfe the motion should de made in halfe the time, a quarter of the motion in a quarter of the time, and so without end, as farre as you can diuide. But this is demonstratiuely impossible; sithhence it is demonstrated that a mooueable coming from rest, must of necessity passe through all degrees of tardity; and therefore by the demonstration cited out of Galileus, we may take a part in which this grauity can not mooue its body in a proportionate part of time, through a proportionate part of the mediū.

12 1.105But because in naturall Theorems, experiences are naturally required; lett vs see whether nature giueth vs any testimony of this verity. To that purpose we may consider a plummet, hanged in a small string from a beame, which being lifted vp gentlely on the one side att the extent of the string, and permitted to fall meerely by the power of grauity, it will ascend very neere as high on the contrary side, as the place it was held in from whence it fell. In this experiment we may note two thinges: the first, that if grauity be a quality, it worketh against its owne nature, in lifting vp the plumett, seing its nature is onely to carry it downe. For though it may be answered that it is not the grauity; but an other quality, called vis impressa which carrieth it vp: neuerthelesse it can not be denyed, but that grauity is either the immediate or at least the mediate cause which maketh this vis impressa: the effect whereof, being

contrary to the nature of grauity; it is absurd to make grauity the cause of it: that is, the cause of an essence, whose nature is contrary to its owne. And the same argument, will proceede, though you putt not vis impressa, but suppose some other thing to be the cause of the plummets remounting, as long as grauity is said to be a quality: for still grauity must be the cause of an effect contrary to its owne inclination, by setting on foote the immediate cause to produce it.

The second thing we are to note in this experiment of the plummets ascent is; that if grauity be a quality, there must bee as much resistance to its going vp, as there was force to its coming downe. Therefore, there must be twice as much force to make it ascend, as there was to make it descend: that is to say, there must be twice as much force, as the naturall force of the grauity is: for there must be once as much, to equalise the resistance of the grauity; and then an other time as much, to carry it as farre through the same medium in the same time. But it is impossible that any cause should produce an effect greater then it selfe.

Againe; the grauity must needes be in a determinate degree: and the vertue that maketh the plummett remount (whatsoeuer it be) may be putt as litle as we please: and consequently, not able to ouersway the grauity alone if it be an intrinsecall quality and yet the plummet will remount: in which case you putt an effect, without a cause.

An other experience we may take from the force of sucking, for take the barrell of a long gunne perfectly bored, and sett it vpright, with the breech vpon the ground, and take a bullett that is exactly fitt for it, but so as it sticke not any where (both the barrell, and it, being perfectly polished;) and then if you sucke att the mouth of the barrell (though neuer so gently) the bullett will come vp so forcibly, that it will hazard the striking out of your teeth. Now lett vs consider, what force were necessary to sucke the bullett vp, and how very slowly it would ascend, if in the barrell it had as much resistance to ascend as in the free ayre it hath inclination to goe downe. But if it had a quality of grauity naturall to it, it must of necessity haue such resistance: whereas in our experiment we see it cometh as easily as the very ayre. So that in this example as well as in the other nature teacheth vs that grauity is no quality.

And all, or most of the arguments which we haue vrged against the quality of grauity in that explication, we haue considered it in: haue force likewise against it, although it be said to be an inclination of its subiect to mooue it selfe vnto vnity with the maine stocke of its owne nature, as diuers witty men do putt it: for this supposition doth but chāge the intention or end of grauity: and is but to make it an other kind of intellectuall or knowing Entity, that determineth it selfe to an other end: which is as impossible for a naturall quality to do, as to determine it selfe to the former endes. And thus much, the arguments we haue proposed, do conuince euidently, if they be applyed against this opinion.

THE TWELTH CHAPTER. Of Violent Motion.

1 1.106ANd thus, we haue giuen a short scātling, whereby to vnderstand in some measure, the causes of that motion, which we call naturall, by reason it hath its birth from the vniuersall oeconomy of nature here among vs; that is from the generall working of the sunne, whereby all naturall thinges haue their course: and by reason that the cause of it is att all times, and in all places, constantly the same. Next vnto which the order of discourse leadeth vs to take a suruay of those forced motions, whose first causes the more apparent they are the more obscurity they leaue vs in, to determine by what meanes they are continued.

When a tennis ball is strucken by a rackett, or an arrow is shott from a bow, we plainely see the causes of their motion: namely, the stringes; which first yielding, and then returning with a greater celerity, do cause the missiues to speed so fast towardes their appoynted homes. Experience informeth vs what qualities the missiues must be endued withall to mooue fast and steadily. They must be so heauy that the ayre may not breake their course; and yet so light, that they may be within the command of the stroake, which giueth them motion; the striker must be dense, and in its best velocity: the angle which the missiue is to mount by (if we will haue it goe to its furthest randome) must be the halfe of a right one: and lastly, the figure of the missiue must be such, as may giue scope vnto the ayre to beare it vp, and yet not hinder its course by taking too much hold of it. All this we see; but when withall wee see that the moouer, deserteth the moueable as soone as he hath giuen the blow; wee are att a stand, and know not where to seeke for that which afterwardes maketh it flye: for motion being a transient, not a permanent thing; as soone as the cause ceaseth that begott it, in that very point it must be att an end; and as long as the motion continueth, there must be some permanent cause to make it do so: so that as soone as the rackett, or bowstring, goe backe and leaue the ball or arrow; why should not they presently fall straight downe to the ground?

2 1.107Aristotle and his followers, haue attributed the cause hereof to the ayre: but Galileo relisheth not this conception. His arguments against it, are (as I remember) to this tenor: first; ayre by reason of its rarity and diuisibility, seemeth not apt to conserue motion: next; we see that light thinges are best carried by the ayre; and it hath no power ouer weighty ones: lastly it is euident that ayre taketh most hold of the broadest superficies; and therefore an arrow would flye faster broadwayes then longwayes, if this were true. Neuerthelesse, since euery effect must haue a proportionable cause from whence it immediately floweth; and that a body, must haue an other body to thrust it on, as long as it mooueth; lett

vs examine what bodies do touch a moueable whilest it is in motion: as the onely meanes to find an issue out of this difficulty; for, to haue recourse vnto a quality or impressed force, for deliuerance out of this straight, is a shift that will not serue the turne in this way of discourse we vse. In this Philosophy, no knott admitteth such a solution.

If then we enquire what body it is that immediately toucheth the ball or arrow whiles it flyeth; we shall find, that none other doth so, but the ayre and the atomes in it, after the stringes haue giuen their stroake, and are parted from the missiue. And although we haue Galileos authority, and arguments to discourage vs from beleeuing that the ayre can worke this effect; yet since there is no other body besides it left for vs to consider in this case; lett vs att the least examine how the ayre behaueth it selfe, after the stroake is giuen by the stringes. First then, it is euident, that as soone as the rackett or bowstring shrinketh backe from the missiue, and leaueth a space betweene the missiue and it (as it is cleare, it doth, as soone as it hath strucken the resisting body) the ayre must 'needes clappe in with as much velocity as they retire, and with some what more; because the missiue goeth forward att the same time, and therefore, the ayre must hasten to ouertake it, least any vacuity should be left betweene the string and the arrow. It is certaine likewise, that the ayre on the sides doth also vpon the diuision of it, slide backe and helpe to fill that space which the departed arrow leaueth voyde. Now this forcible cloosing of the ayre att the nocke of the arrow must 'needes giue an impulse or blow vpon it: if it seeme to be but a litle one, you may consider how it is yet much greater, then what the ayre and the bodies swimming in it, do att the first giue vnto a stone falling frō high; and how att the last, those litle atomes that driue a stone in its naturall motion, do with their litle blowes force it peraduenture more violenty and swiftly then any impelling Agent we are acquainted with, can do. So that the impulse which they make vpon the arrow, pressing violently vpon it, after such a vehement concussion, and with a great velocity, must needes cause a powerfull effect in that which of it selfe is indifferent to any motion any way.

But vnlesse this motion of the ayre do continue to beate still vpon the arrow,3 1.108 it will soone fall to the ground, for want of a cause to driue it forward; and because the naturall motion of the ayre, (being then the onely one) will determine it downewardes. Lett vs consider then, how this violent rending of the ayre by the blow that the bowstring giueth vnto the arrow; must needes disorder the litle atomes that swimme too and fro in it, and that (being heauyer then the ayre) are continually descending downewardes. This disorder, maketh some of the heauyer partes of them, gett aboue others that are lighter then they; which they not abiding, do presse vpon those that are next them, and they vpon their fellowes: so that there is a great commorion and vndulation caused in the whole masse of ayre round

about the arrow: which must continue some time before it can be settled: and it being determined by the motion of the arrow that way that it slideth, it followeth that all this commotion and vndulation of the ayre, serueth to continue the arrow in its flight. And thus, faster then any part behind can be settled, new ones before are stirred, till the resistance of the medium do grow stronger then the impulse of the moouers.

Besides this the arrow pressing vpon the ayre before it, with a greater velocity then the ayre (which is a liquide rare body) can admitt, to moue all of a piece without breaking: it must of necessity happen that the partes of the ayre immediately before the arrow, be driuen vpon others further of, before these can be moued to giue place vnto them; so that in some places the ayre becometh condensed, and consequently, in others rarifyed. Which also the wind that we make in walking, (which will shake a paper pinned loosely, att the wall of a chamber towardes which we walke) and the cooling ayre caused by fanning when we are hoat, do euidently confirme. So that it can not be doubted, but that condensation and rarefaction of the ayre, must necessarily follow the motion of any solide body: which being admitted it is euident that a great disorder, and for some remarkable time, must necessarily be in the ayre; since it can not brooke to continue in more rarity or density then is naturall vnto it. Nor can weighty and light partes agree to rest in an equal height or lownesse; which the violence of the arrowes motion forceth them vnto for the present. Therefore it can not be denyed, but that though the arrow slide away, neuerthelesse there still remaineth behind it (by this condensation and confusion of partes in the ayre) motion enough to giue impulse vnto the arrow, so as to make it continue its motion after the bowstring hath left it.4 1.109

But here will arise a difficulty: which is, how this clapping in, and vndulation of the ayre, should haue strength and efficacy enough, to cause the continuance of so smart a motion, as is an arrowes shott, from a bow. To this I neede no other argument for an answere, then to produce Galileos testimony how great a body, one single mans breath alone, can in due circumstances giue a rapide motion vnto: and withall, lett vs consider how the arrow, and the ayre about it are already in a certaine degree of velocity; that is to say, the obstacle that would hinder it, from moouing that way (namely, the resistance of the ayre) is taken away; and the causes that are to produce it (namely the determining of the ayres, and of the atomes motion that way) are hightened. And then we may safely conclude that the arrow which of it selfe is indifferent to be mooued vpwardes or downewardes, or forwardes, must needes obey that motion which is caused in it by the atomes, and the ayres pressing vpon it; either according to the impulse of the string; or (when the string beginneth to flagge) according to the beatinges that follow the generall constitution of nature; or in a mixt

manner according to the proportions that these two hold to one an other. Which proportions Galileus in his 4^th Dialogue of motion, hath attempted to explicate very ingeniously: but hauing missed in one of his suppositions; to witt, that forced motion vpon an horizontall line, is throughout vniforme; his great labours therein, haue taken litle effect towardes the aduancing the knowledge of nature, as he pretended: for his conclusions succeede not in experience▪ as Mersenius assureth vs after very exact trials; nor can they in their reasons be fitted to nature.

So that, to conclude this point; I find no difficulty in allowing this motion of the ayre strength enough to force the mooueable onwardes, for some time after the first moouer is seuered from it; (and long after, we see no motions of this nature do endure:) so that we neede seeke no further cause for the continuance of it: but may rest satisfyed vpon the whole matter, that since the causes and circumstances our reason suggesteth vnto vs, are after mature and particular examination proportionable to the effects we see, the doctrine we deliuer must be sound and true.

For the establishing whereof, we neede not (considering what we haue already said) spend much time in soluing Galileos arguments against it:5 1.110 seeing that▪ out of what we haue sett downe, the answeres to them appeare plaine enough; for first, we haue assigned causes how the ayre may continue its motion long enough to giue as much impression as is needefull vnto the arrow, to make it goe on as it doth. Which motion is not requisite to be neere so great in the ayre behind the arrow (that driueth it on) as what the arrow causeth in the ayre before it: for by reason of the density of it, it must needes make a greater impression in the ayre it cutteth, then the ayre, that causeth its motion, would do of it selfe without the mediation of the arrow. As, when the force of a hand giueth motion vnto a knife to cutt a loafe of bread, the knife, by reason of the density and of the figure it hath, m••k••th a greater impression in the loafe, th••n the hand alone would do. And this is the same that we declared in the naturall motion of a heauy thing, downewardes, vnto which we assigned two causes; namely, the beating of the atomes in the ayre, falling downe in their naturall cours••, to determine it the way it is to goe; and the density of the body, that cutting more powerfully then those atomes can do; giueth (together with their helpe) a greater velocity vnto the mooueable, then the atomes of themselues can giue.

Nor doth it import that our resolution is against the generall nature of rare and dense bodies, in regard of conseruing motion; as Galileo obiecteth for the reason why dense bodies do conserue motion longer then rare bodies, is, because in regard of their diuiding vertue, they gett in equall times a greater velocity. Wherefore seeing that velocity is equall vnto grauity; it followeth th••t resistance worketh not so much vpon them as vpon rare bodies; and therefore can not make them cease from

motion so easily as it doth rare bodies. This is the generall reason for the conseruation of motion in dense bodies. But because in our case, there is a continuall cause which conserueth motion in the ayre, the ayre may continue its motion longer then of it selfe it would do: not; in the same part of ayre which Galileus (as it seemeth) did ayme att: but in diuers partes, in which the mooueable successiuely is.

Which being concluded, lett vs see how the forced motion cometh to decrease and to be ended. To which purpose we may obserue, that the impression which the arrow receiueth from the ayre that driueth it forwardes, being weaker then that which it receiued att the first from the string, (by reasō, that the ayre is not so dēse, and therefore cā not strike so great a blow) the arrow doth not in this second measure of time, (wherein we cōsider the impulse giuen by the ayre onely) cutt so strongly the ayre before it, nor presse so violently vpon it, as in the first measure when the string parting from it did beate it forwardes: for till then, the velocity encreaseth in the arrow, as it doth in the string that carryeth it along, which proceedeth from rest att the singers loose from it, to its highest degree of velocity; which is, when it arriueth to the vtmost extent of its ierke, where it quitteth the arrow. And therefore, the ayre now doth not so swiftly, nor so much of it, rebound backe from before, and clappe it selfe behind the arrow, to fill the space that else would be left voyde by the arrowes moouing forward: and consequently, the blow it giueth in the third measure, to driue the arrow on, can not be so great as the blow was immediately after the stringes parting from it; which was in the second measure of time: and therefore, the arrow must needes mooue slower in the third measure then it did in the second; as formerly it mooued slower in the second (which was the ayres first stroake) then it did in the first, when the string droue it forwardes. And thus, successiuely in euery moment of time, as the causes grow weaker and weaker by the encrease of resistance in the ayre before, and by the decrease of force in the subsequent ayre; so, the motion must be slower and slower, till it come to pure cessation.6 1.111

As for Galileus second argument; that the ayre hath litle power ouer heauy thinges; and therefore he will not allow it to be the cause of continuing forced motions in dense bodies: I wish he could as well haue made experience what velocity of motion a mans breath might produce in a heauy bullett lying vpon an euen, hard, and slippery plaine, (for a table would be too short) as he did, how admirable great a one it produced in pendants hanging in the ayre: and, I doubt not but he would haue granted it as powerfull in causing horizontall motions, as he found it in the vndulations of his pendantes. Which neuerthelesse, do sufficiently conuince how great a power ayre hath ouer heauy bodies. As likewise the experience of windgunnes assureth vs that ayre duly applyed is able to giue greater motion vnto heauy bodies then vnto light ones. For how can a straw or feather be imagined possibly to fly with halfe the violence

as a bullett of lead doth out of one of those engines? And when a man sucketh a bullett vpwardes in a perfectly bored barrell of a gunne, which the bullett fitteth exactly (as we haue mentioned before) with what a violence doth it follow the breath and ascend to the mouth of the barrell? I remember to haue seene a man that was vncautious and sucked strongly that had his foreteeth beaten out by the blow of the bullett ascending.

This experiment (if well looked into) may peraduenture make good a greate part of this doctrine we now deliuer. For, the ayre pressing in behind the bullett att the touch hole, giueth it its impulse vpwardes; vnto which the density of the bullett being added, you haue the cause of its swiftnesse, and violence; (for a bullett of wood or corke, would not ascend so fast and so strongly) and the sucking away of the ayre before it, taketh away that resistance which otherwise it would encounter with, by the ayre lying in the way of it: and its following the breath with so great ease, sheweth (as we touched before) that of it selfe it is indifferent to any motion, when nothing presseth vpon it to determine it a certaine way.7 1.112

Now to Galileos last argument; that an arrow should fly faster broadwayes, then longwayes, if the ayre were cause of its motion: there needeth no more to be saide, but that the resistance of the ayre before, hindereth it as much as the impulse of the ayre behind helpeth it on; so that nothing is gained in that regard; but much is lost, in respect of the figure; which maketh the arrow vnapt to cutt the ayre so well when it flyeth broadwayes, as when it is shott longwayes: and therefore the ayre being weakely cutt so much of it can not clappe in behind the arrow and driue it on, against the resistance before, which is much greater.

Thus farre, with due respect, and with acknowledging remembrance of the many admirable mysteries of natute which that great man hath taught the world, we haue taken liberty to dispute against him: because this difficulty seemeth to haue driuen him against his Genius, to beleeue that in such motions there must be allowed a quality imprinted into the mooued body to cause them: which our whole scope both in this and in all other occasions where like qualities are vrged, is to prooue superfluous and ill grounded in nature; and to be but meere termes to confound and leaue in the darke whosoeuer is forced to fly vnto them.

THE THERTEENTH CHAPTER. Of three sortes of violent motion, Reflexion, Vndulation, and Refraction.

1 1.113THe motion we haue last spoken of, because it is ordinarily either in part or wholy contrary to grauity (which is accounted the naturall motion of most bodies) vseth to be called violent or forced. And thus, you haue deliuered vnto you the natures and causes, both of naturall and of forced motion; yet it remaineth that we aduertise you of some particular kindes of this forced motion, which seeme to be different from it, but indeed are not. As first, the motion of reflexion: which if we do but consider how forced motion is made; we shall find that it is nothing else but a forced motion, whose line where∣vpon it is made, is as it were snapped in two by the encounter of a hard body. For euen as we see in a spoute of water that is strongly shott against a wall, the water following driueth the precedent partes first to the wall, and afterwardes coming themselues to the wall, forceth them againe an other way from the wall: right so, the latter partes of the torrent of ayre, which is caused by the force that occasioneth the forced motion, driueth the former partes, first vpon the resistent body, and afterwardes againe from it. But this is more eminent in light then in any other body, because light doth lesse rissent grauity; and so obserueth the pure course of the stroake, better then any other body; from which, others do for the most part decline some way by reason of their weight.

2 1.114Now the particular law of reflexion is, that the line incident, and the line of reflexion must make equall angles, with that line of the resistent superficies which is in the same superficies with themselues. The demonstration whereof, that great witt Renatus Des Cartes hath excellently sett downe in his booke of Dioptrikes by the example of a ball strucken by a rackett against the earth, or any resisting body: the substance where of is as followeth.

[illustration]

In the Rectangle Parallelogramme AE, lett CE be the superficies of the earth: A, the point from which the rackett HG, striketh the ball by the line AB, to the point B in the superficies of the earth: and lett vs consider C, to be on the left hand, and E on the right. Now we are to shew that the ball will rebound by the line BF, to the point F, in the same time in which it went from A to B; and so make the angle ABC equall to the angle FBE. For the effecting whereof, we must abstract, according to the manner of mathematicians, from all Physicall inequalities, and suppose the superficies CE, to be mathematically plaine, and the force of the rackett to continue equally strong in B as it is in A: for although in truth, neyther of these be rigorously so; neuerthelesse,

because there is no sensible defect in any operation that dependeth on them, it is the same to our purpose as if they were mathematically so. We see then that the rackett HG, doth in a certaine time driue the ball from A to B; that is to say, from the left hand to the right, as farre as from C to B; and from aboue to downewardes, as farre as from A to C. Wee see againe, that the superficies CE, is not contrary vnto this motion of the ball, as it goeth from the left hand to rhe right; for the line CE lyeth likewise that way: but it is contrary vnto

[illustration]

it, as it goeth from aboue downewardes; for in that course the superficies C E encountereth and putteth a periode to the line AC. And therefore the motion of the ball when it meeteth with the superficies CE, must be changed from the line AC, so much as the superficies CE is contrary vnto it; that is quite backwards as farre as it dependeth of that opposition. Therefore, when the ball is come to B, it must go from thence in the same proportion of left hand to right hand, and from below vpwardes, as it came before from left hand to right hand, and from aboue downewardes, when it came from A to B. And consequently, it must in equall time haue passed an other line from left hand to right hand, as long as the line CB; and likewise, it must att the same time haue passed an other line from below vpwardes as long as AC: which will of necessity make it hitt in the point F, att the end of so much more time as it spent in going from A to B; and so, make the two angles ABC, and FBE equall; as euery one knoweth that hath but saluted Euclide.

The motion which we call vndulation needeth no further explication:3 1.115 for it is manifest, that since a pendant, when it is remooued from its perpendicular, will restore it selfe therevnto by the naturall force of grauity, and that in so doing it gaineth a velocity, (and therefore can not cease on a suddaine,) it must needes be carried, out of the force of that motion, directly the cōtrary way: vntill the force of grauity, ouercoming the velocity, it must be brought backe againe to the perpēdicular: which being done likewise with velocity, it must send it againe towardes the place from which it fell att the first. And in this course of motion it must cōtinue for a while, euery vndulation being weaker then other, vntill att last it quite ceaseth, by the course of nature settling the ayre in its due situatiō according to the naturall causes that worke vpon it. And in this very manner also is performed that vndulation which we see in water, when it is stirred from the naturall situation of its sphericall superficies.

Galileo hath noted that the time in which the vndulations are made which follow one an other of their owne accord, is the same in euery one of them; and that as much time precisely is take vp in a pendants going a very short arch towardes the end of its vibration, as was in its going of the greatest arch att the beginning of its motion. The reason whereof seemeth strange to him, and he thinketh it to be an accident naturall to

the body out of its grauity; and that this effect conuinceth, it is not the ayre which mooueth such bodies. Whereas in truth, it is clearely the ayre which causeth this effect. Because the ayre striuing att each end (where it is furthest from the force of the motion) to quiett it selfe, getteth att euery bout somewhat vpon the space; and so, contracteth that into a shorter arch.

But it is a great wonder to me, that Galileo should make a wonder of this effect; to the reason of which, he hath layed so faire a fundation vpon an other occasion; had he but reflected vpon it. For in his fourth Dialogue of motion he hath demonstrated that a naturall mooueable descending in the quarter of a circle, from what part soeuer it beginneth, spendeth equall time to come to the lowest point, as if it came from any other part: so that a pendāt being brought vp to any height by the force of a former motion downewardes, it will be sure to spend as much time in going downe from thence to the perpendicular, as it did att the first when it was lett fall from the greatest height. Now I subsume, that the pendants ascending, being the effect of the velocity of its motion gained in descending immediately before▪ the said velocity must be able to carry it in the same time to a height, that is proportionate to that hight vnto which the velocity, gained in the first fall did cause the pendant to mount. As for example: if the pendants first

[illustration]

descent, were from A to E, the second from C to E; because the time of those two, is the same, (as Galileus hath demonstrated) it followeth that their velocities gained in descending must of necessity be in the proportion of the line AE to the line CE: therefore, their effects also must be proportionable. Lett vs then putt the line ED in that proportion to the line CE, which CE hath to AE; and then the velocity gained in CE will carry the pendant vp from E to D, in the same time in which the descent AE did carry it vp the other way from E to C: wherefore, seeing that the times of its descent from A to E, and from C to E are equall▪ likewise, the two vibrations from A to C and from C to D will be done in equall times. But that which made Galileo not see the force of the consequence, was that he did not acknowledge violent motion to be made in the same proportions, and for the same reasons which are found in naturall motion:4 1.116 which we haue aboue shewed to be so, where we discoursed of that matter.

That motion also which we call Refraction, and is manifest to sense, onely in light; (though peraduenture hereafter more diligent searchers of nature, may likewise find it in such other bodies as are called qualities; as in cold or heate, &c.) is but a kind of Reflexion: for there being certaine bodies, in which the passages are so well ordered with their resistances, that all the partes of them seeme to permitt light to passe through them, and yet all partes of them seeme to reflect it; when light

passeth through such bodies, it findeth att the very entrance of them, such resistances, where it passeth, as serue it for a reflectent body; and yet such a reflectent body, as hindereth not the passage through; but onely hindereth the passage from being in a straight line with the line incident. Wherefore the light must needes take a plye as beaten from those partes towardes a line drawne from the illuminant, and falling perpendicularly vpon the resisting superficies; and therefore is termed by mathematicians, to be refracted or broken towardes the Perpendicular. Now at the very going out againe of the light, the second superficies (if it be parallel to the former) must needes vpon a contrary cause, strike it the contrary way: which is termed from the Perpendicular.

As for example: if the ray AB,

[illustration]

lighteth vpon the superficies EBF; and findeth entrance; it is not now the superficies EF, that resisteth or reflecteth it: but it is that part of the inside (as we may say) of the pore B, which is towardes F; and is a Physicall body; not a Mathematicall point. The reflexion therefore must be made, as if the reflectent body were IBK: but it is euident that if AB, did strike vpon IK, it would reflect towardes AG. But because we know not the inclination of the superficies IK, whether it be truly a perpendicular or no, therefore we can not tell the quantity of the inclination which this reflexion must make; but onely we know that it must be towardes AG.

But before we wade any deeper into this difficulty,5 1.117 we can not omitt a word of the manner of explicating refraction which Monsieur Des Cartes vseth, so witty a one as I am sorry it wanteth successe. He therefore following the demonstration aboue giuen of reflexion; supposeth the superficies which a ball lighteth vpon, to be a thinne linnen cloth, or some other such matter as will breake cleanely by the force of the ball striking smartly vpon it. And because that superficies resisteth onely one way, therefore he inferreth that the velocity of the ball is lessened onely one way and not the other: so that the velocity of its motion that way in which it findeth no resistance, must be (after the balles passage through the linnen) in a greater proportion to the velocity which it hath the other way where it findeth resistance, then it was before. And therefore the ball will in lesse time arriue to its periode on the one side then on the other: and consequently, it will leane towardes that side, vnto which the course wherein it findeth no opposition, doth carry it.

But how much he is mistaken vpon the whole matter, a little figure will shew: lett vs therefore putt a Rectangle Parallelogramme as before AE, which I double and make the whole Parallelogramme AL,

and draw out the line AB, till it cometh to L. Now we must imagine

[illustration]

that CE, is the cloth or passable superficies which Monsieur Des Cartes putteth; and BL the line it would goe in, if there were no resistance. Next we must seeke the perpendicular, which according to our explication, is AC: for that, falleth from A the illuminant, perpendicularly vpon CE; although, some who defend Monsieur Des Cartes, seeme to make another line the perpendicular; against the conception of all those that write of Optikes. But, not to trouble our selues with termes; the question is, whether the ball that passeth, the cloth, must (after its passage through) deflect from the line BL, (which it would haue kept, had there beene no resistance) towardes E; or else deflect from that line towardes C. And both experience and reason do assure vs, that it must turne towardes C: but Monsieur Des Cartes sayth towardes E.

Which to sh••w how it is contrary vnto his owne principle; lett vs conceiue the cloth CE to be of some thickenesse, and so draw the line OP to determine that thicknesse. And lett vs make from B vpon AL, an other Parallelogramme like the Parallelogramme AL, whose diameter shall be BQ. And it must necessarilly follow that the motion from B to Q, if there were no resistance, were in the same proportion as from A to B. But the proportion of the motion from A to B, is the proportion of CB to CA; that is, it goeth in the same time faster towardes D, then it doth towardes M, in the proportion which CB hath to CA. By which account, the resistance it hath in the way towardes D, must also be greater then the resistance it hath in the way towardes M, in the proportion which CB hath to CA; and therefore the more tardity must be in the way to D, and not in the way to M; and consequently, the declination must be from Ewardes, and to Mwardes. For where there is most resistance, that way likewise must the tardity be greatest, and the declination must be from that way: but which way the thickenesse, to be passed in the same time, is most, that way the resistance is greatest: and the thickenesse is clearely greater towardes E, then towardes M; therefore, the resistance must be greatest towardes E; and consequently the declination from the line BL must be towardes M, and not towardes E.

But the truth is, that in his doctrine the ball would goe in a straight line as if there were no resistance; vnlesse peraduenture towardes the contrary side of the cloth, att which it goeth out into the free ayre: for as the resistance of the cloth is greater in the way towardes D, then in the way towardes M, (because it passeth a longer line in the same time, as also it did formerly in the ayre) so likewise is the force that mooueth it

that way, greater then the force which mooueth it the other. And therefore the same proportions that were in the motion, before it came to the resisting passage, will remaine also in it: att the least vntill coming neere the side att which it goeth out, the resistance be weakned by the thinnenesse of the resistent there: which because it must needes happen on the side, that hath least thicknesse, the ball must consequently, turne the other way, where it findeth greatest yielding: and so att its getting out into the free ayre, it will bend from the greater resistance, in such manner as we haue said aboue.

Neither do the examples brought by Monsieur Des Cartes,6 1.118 and others in maintenance of this doctrine any thing auayle them: for when a canon bullett shott into a riuer, hurteth the people on the other side; it is not caused by refraction, but by reflexion, as Monsieur Des Cartes himselfe acknowledgeth: and therefore, hath no force to prooue any thing in refraction; whose lawes are diuers from those of pure reflexion.

And the same answere serueth against the instance of a muskett bullett shott att a marke vnder water; which perpetually lighteth higher then the marke, though it be exactly iust aymed att. For we knowing that it is the nature of water, by sinking in one place to rise round about, it must of necessity follow that the bullett which in entring hath pressed downe the first partes of the water, hath withall thereby putt others further off in a motion of rising: and therefore the bullet in its goeing on must meete with some water swelling vpwardes, and must from it receiue a ply that way▪ which can not faile of carrying it aboue the marke it was leuelled att. And so we see this effect proceedeth, from reflection or the bounding of the water, and not from refraction. Besides that it may iustly be suspected, the shooter tooke his ayme too high, by reason of the markes appearing in the water higher then in truth it is: vnlesse such false ayming were duly preuented.

Neither is Monsieur Des Cartes his excuse to be admitted, when he sayth that light goeth otherwise, then a ball would do, because that in a glasse or in water, the etheriall substance, which he supposeth to runne through all bodies is more efficaciously mooued then in ayre: and that therefore, light must go faster in the glasse then in the ayre, and so turne on that side of the straight line which is contrary to the side that the ball taketh, because the ball goeth not so swiftly. For, (not to dispute of the verity of this proposition) the effect he pretendeth, is impossible: for if the etheriall substance in the ayre before the glasse, be slowly mooued (the motion of which, he calleth light) it is impossible that the etheriall substance in the glasse or in the water should be more smartly mooued then it. Well it may be lesse; but without all doubt, the impulse of the etheriall substance in the glasse can not be greater then its adequate cause which is the motion of the other partes that are in the ayre precedent to the glasse.

Againe; after it is passed the glasse, it should returne to be a straight

line with the line that it made in the ayre precedent to the glasse: seeing that the subsequent ayre must take off iust as much; (and no more) as the glasse did adde: the contrary whereof experience sheweth vs.

Thirdly, in this explication, it would alwayes go one way in the ayre, and an other way in the glasse: whereas all experience testifyeth, that in a glasse conuexe on both sides, it still goeth in the ayre after its going out, to the same side as it did in the glasse; but more. And the like happeneth in glasses on both sides concaue. Wherefore it is euident, that it is the superficies of the glasse, that is the worker on both sides; and not the substance of the ayre on the one side, and of the glasse on the other.

And lastly; his answere doth no wayes solue our obiection, which prooueth that the resistance both wayes is proportionate to the force that mooueth, and by consequence that the thing moued must go straight. As we may imagine would happen, if a bullett were shott sloaping through a greene mudde wall, in which there were many round stickes, so thinne sett that the bullett mighr passe with ease through them; for as long as the bullett touched none of them (which expresseth his case) it would go straight; but if it touched any of them (which resembleth ours, as by and by will appeare) it would glance according to the quality of the touch, and mooue from the sticke in an other line.

Some peraduenture may answere for Monsieur Des Cartes that this subtile body which he supposeth to runne through all thinges is stiffe and no wayes plyable. But that, is so repugnant to the nature of rarity and so many insuperable inconueniencies do follow out of it; as I can not imagine he will owne it: and therefore I will not spend any time in replying therevnto.

7 1.119We must therefore seeke some other cause of the refraction of light which is made att the entrance of it into a diaphanous body. Which is plainely (as we said before) because the ray striking against the inside of a body it can not penetrate, turneth by reflexion towardes that side on which the illuminant standeth: and if it findeth cleare passage through the whole resistent, it followeth the course it first taketh; if not then it is lost by many reflexions too and fro,

And that this doctrine is true, the accidents or Phoenomens euidently declare vnto vs; for experience teacheth vs that vpon a plaine superficies the refraction is made towardes the perpendicular drawne from the illuminant to the superficies; as we haue said. Now att the going out (if the surfaces be parallels) we see that the ray turneth from that perpendicular; which also is necessary: for going through a pore bigger then it selfe, or att the least as bigge; and finding it full of ayre; it must needes be crouded there. But in a croude, he presseth you most, whom you presse most vpon: so then that side of the pore which is next to the light as it passeth, must presse most vpon it: but the angle which is

towardes the perpendicular, to witt the angle BCI, is the lesser;

[illustration]

and by consequence, the ray is neerer that side of the pore which is towardes I, then the other side of it which is towardes H; wherefore it must take its ply from that side. But that side striketh it from the perpendicular: and therefore, it must there refract from the perpendicular.

This very same doctrine for the reason of refraction is confirmed by

[illustration]

what happeneth in crooked superficieses. As if EF, be a Lens or a glasse on both sides conuexe; and CB, the axis of it; AD, the ray falling from the illuminant A; AB, the perpendicular falling from the same illuminant A: it will be plaine by the former discourse, that the ray AD, must att the entry be refracted towardes AB, as being repulsed from that part of the inside of the pore D, which is towardes F; because that side is most opposed vnto the ray. Now the ray being once turned that way; when att the end of its iorney through the glasse, it is come to the other superficies EGF, it maketh the lesser angle towardes F; and therefore it must by the rule giuen aboue, be refracted againe att its parting from the glasse, towardes

[illustration]

the same perpendicular; and it will meete some where with the axis CB; all which experience sheweth vs to be true.

And taking a body of concaue surfaces we shall (according to this doctrine of ours) find the causes of refraction iust contrary; and accordingly, experience likewise sheweth vs, the effects to be so too. And therefore since experience agreeth exactly with our rules, we can not doubt but that the principles vpon which we goe,8 1.120 are well layd.

But because crooked surfaces may haue many irregularities; it will not be amisse to giue a rule by which all of them may be brought vnto a certainety. And this it is, that reflexions from crooked superficieses, are equall to the reflexions

that are made from such plaine superficieses, as are tangents to the crooked ones in that point from whence the reflexions are made. Which principall the Masters of Optikes do take out of a Mathematicall supposition of the vnity of the reflecting point, in both the surfaces; the crooked and the plaine. But we take it out of the insensibility, of the difference of so litle a part in the two different surfaces, as serueth to reflect a ray of light: for where the difference is insensible in the causes; there likewise the difference is so litle in the effects as sense can not iudge of them: which is as much as is requisite to our purpose. Now seeing that in the Mathematicall supposition, the point where the reflexion is made is indifferent to both the surfaces; it followeth that it importeth not whether superficies you take to know the quality of reflexion by. This principle then being settled, that the reflexion must follow the nature of the tangent surfaces; and it being prooued, that in plaine surfaces it will happen in such sort as we haue explicated, it followeth that in any crooked superficies of what figure soeuer, the same also will happen.

Now seeing we haue formerly declared, that refractions are but a certaine kind of reflexions, what we haue said here of reflexions, may be applyed to refractions.

9 1.121But there remaineth yet vntouched, one affection more of refractions; which, is, that some diaphanous bodies do in their inward partes reflect more then others (which is, that which we call refraction) as experience sheweth vs. Concerning which effect, we are to consider that diaphanous bodies, may in their composition haue two differences: for some are composed of greater partes and greater pores; others of lesser partes and lesser pores. It is true, there may be other combinations of pores and partes, yet by these two, the rest may be esteemed. As, for the first combination, we see that because the pores are greater, a greater multitude of partes of light may passe together through one pore; and because the partes are greater, likewise a greater multitude of rayes may reflect from the same part, and may find the same passage quite throughout the diaphanous body. On the contrary side, in the second combination where both the pores and the partes of the diaphanous body are litle, the light must be but litle that findeth the same passage.

Now, that refraction is greater or lesser, happeneth two wayes; for it is, eyther when one diaphanous body reflecteth light att more angles then an other, and by consequence in a greater extent of the superficies; or else, when one body reflecteth light from the same point of incidence in a shorter line and in a greater angle, then an other doth. In both these wayes it is apparant, that a body composed of greater partes and greater pores, exceedeth bodies of the opposite kind: for by reason that in the first kind, more light may beate against one part; a body in which that happeneth, will make an appearance from a further part of its superficies: whereas in a body of the other sort; the light that beateth against one

of the litle partes of it, will be so litle, as it will presently vanish. Againe, because in the first, the part att the incidence is greater; the surface from which the reflexion is made inwardes, hath more of a plaine and straight superficies: and consequently doth reflect att a greater angle, then that, whose superficies hath more of inclining.

But we must not passe from this question,10 1.122 without looking a litle into the nature of those bodies in which refraction is made: for if they as well as the immediate causes of refraction, do likewise fauour vs; it will not a litle aduance the certainety of our determination. To this purpose we may call to mind, how experience sheweth vs that great refractions are made in smoake, and in mistes, and in glasses, and in thicke bodied waters; and Monsieur Des Cartes, addeth certaine oyles, and spirits or strong waters.

Now most of these we see are composed of litle consistent bodies, swimming in an other liquide body. As is plaine in smoake and mistes: for the litle bubbles which rise in the water before they gett out of it; and that are smoake when they gett into the ayre; do assure vs that smoake is nothing else, but a company of litle round bodies, swimming in the ayre: and the round consistence of water vpon herbes, leafes, and twigges in a rynde or dew, giueth vs also to vnderstand that a mist is likewise a company of litle round bodies that sometimes stand, sometimes floate in the ayre, as the wind driueth them. Our very eyes beare wittnesse to vs, that the thicker sort of waters are full of litle bodies, which is the cause of their not being cleare.

As for glasse, the blowing of it conuinceth, that the litle dartes of fire which pierce it euery way, do naturally in the melting of it conuert it into litle round hollow bodies, which in their cooling must settle into partes of the like figure. Then for crystall and other transparent stones which are found in cold places; it can not be otherwise, but that the nature of cold piercing into the maine body, and contracting euery litle part in it selfe; this contraction must needes leaue vacant pores betweene part and part. And that such transparent stones as are made by heate, haue the like effect and property, may be iudged out of what we see in brickes and tiles, which are left full of holes by the operation of the fire. And I haue seene in bones that haue layne a long time in the sunne, a multitude of sensible litle pores close to one an other, as if they had beene formerly stucke all ouer with subtile sharpe needles as close as they could be thrust in by one other. The Chymicall oyles and spirits which Monsieur Des Cartes speaketh of, are likely to be of the same composition; since that such vse to be extracted by violent fires: for a violent fire is made by the coniunction of many rayes together; and that must needes cause great pores in the body it worketh vpon; and the sticking nature of these spirits, is capable of conseruing them.

Out of all these obseruations it followeth, that the bodies in which greatest refractions do happen, are compounded (as we haue said) of

great partes, and great pores. And therefore, by onely taking light to be such a body, as we haue described it to be, where we treated of the nature of it; it is euident, that the effect which we haue expressed, must necessarily follow by way of reflexion: and that refraction is nothing else but a certaine kind of reflexion.

Which last assertion, is likewise conuinced out of this; that the same effects proceede from reflexion as from refraction: for by reflexion a thing may be seene greater then it is; in a different place from the true one where it is: colours may be made by reflexion, as also, gloating light; and fire likewise; and peraduenture all other effects which are caused by refraction, may as well as these, be performed by reflexion. And therefore it is euident, they must be of the same nature; seing that children are the resemblances of their parents.

THE FOVRETEENTH CHAPTER. Of the composition, qualities, and generation of Mixed bodies.

1 1.123HAuing now declared the vertues by which fire and earth worke vpon one an other, and vpon the rest of the elements; which is, by light, and by the motions we haue discoursed of. Our taske shall be in this chapter first to obserue what will result out of such action of theirs: and next to search into the wayes and manner of compassing and performing it. Which latter we shall the more easily attaine vnto, when we first know the end that their operation leuelleth att. In this pursute we shall find that the effect of the Elements combinations, by meanes of the motions that happen among them; is a long pedigree of compounded qualities and bodies: wherein, the first combinations (like marriages) are the breeders of the next more composed substances: and they againe are the parents of others in greater variety: and so are multiplyed without end; for the further this worke proceedeth, the more subiects it maketh for new businesse of the like kind.

To descend in particular vnto all these, is impossible. And to looke further then the generall heades of them, were superfluous and trouble∣some in this discourse; wherein I ayme onely att shewing what sorts of thinges, in common, may de done by bodies: that if hereafter, we meete with thinges of an other nature and straine, we may be sure, they are not the ofspring of bodies and of quantity; which is, the maine scope of what I haue designed here. And to do this with confidence and certainety, requireth of necessity this leisurely and orderly proceeding that hitherto we haue vsed, and shall continue to the end: for, walking thus softly, we haue alwayes one foote vpon the ground; so as the other may be sure of firme footing before it settle. Whereas, they that for more hast will

leape ouer rugged passages and broken ground; when both their feete are in the ayre, can not helpe themselues, but must light as chance throweth them.

To this purpose then we may consider, that the qualities of bodies in common are of three sortes: for they are belonging, either to the constitution of a compounded body, or else, to the operation of it; and the operation of a body, is of two kindes; the one, vpon other bodies, the other, vpon sense. The last of these three sortes of qualities, shall be handled in a peculiar chapter by themselues. Those of the second sort, whereby they worke vpon other bodies, haue beene partly declared in the former chapters, and will be further discoursed of in the rest of this first treatise: so as that which remaineth for the present, is to fall vpon the discourse of such qualities as concurre to the constitution of bodies; with an ayme to discouer, whether (or no) they may be effected by the seuerall mixtures of rarity and density, in such sort as is already declared. To which end, we are to consider in what manner these two primary differences of bodies may be ioyned together: and what effects such coniunction will produce.

As for their coniunction:2 1.124 to deliuer the nature of it entirely, we must begin from the very roote of it, and consider how the Vniuerse being finite (which M^r. White hath demonstrated in the second knott of his first Dialogue) there can not be an infinite number of bodies in it: for Geometricians shew vs how the least quantity that is, may be repeated so often as would exceede any the greatest determinate quantity whatsoeuer. Out of which it followeth, that although all the other bodies of the world were no bigger then the least quantity that can be designed; yet they being infinite in number, would be greater then the whole Vniuerse that containeth them. And therefore, of necessity there must be some least body, or rather, some least cise of bodies: which in compounded bodies, is not to be expected: for, their least partes being compounded, must needes include compounding partes lesse then themselues. We must then looke for this least cise of bodies in the Elements; which of all bodies are the simplest. And among them, we must pitch vpon that, wherein is greatest diuisibility, and which consequently is diuided into least partes; that is, fire: so as we may conclude that among all the bodies in the world, that which of its owne nature hath an aptitude to be least, must be fire.

Now,3 1.125 the least body of fire, be it neuer so litle, is yet diuisible into lesse. What is it then that maketh it be one? To determine this; we must resort vnto the nature of Quantity: whose formall notion and essence is; To be diuisible, which signifyeth, that many may be made, of it; but thar of which many may be made, is not yet many, out of this very reason; that many may be made of it. But, what is not many, is one. Therefore what hath quantity; is, by meere hauing quantity, actually and formally, as well one, as it hath the possibility of being made

many. And consequently, the least body of fire, by hauing quantity, hath those partes which might be many, actually one. And this is the first coniunction of partes that is to be considered in the composition of bodies: which though it be not an actuall ioyning of actuall partes; yet it is a formall coniunction of what may be many.4 1.126

In the next place we may consider; how seeing the least bodies that are, be of fire; it must needes follow, that the least partes of the other Elements must be bigger then they. And consequently, the possible partes of those least partes of the other Elements must haue something to conserue them together, more then is found in fire. And this, because Elements are purely distinguished by rarity and density is straight concluded to be density. And thus, we haue found; that as quantity is the cause of the possible partes being one, so density is the cause of the like partes sticking together: which appeareth in the very definition of it, for, to be lesse diuisible, (which is the notion of density) speaketh a resistance to diuision,5 1.127 or a sticking together.

Now lett vs examine how two partes of different Elements are ioyned together, to make a compound. In this coniunction we find both the effects we haue already touched: for, two such partes must make one; and moreouer, they must haue some resistance to diuisibility. The first of these effects we haue already assigned vnto the nature of quantity. And it being the formall effect of quantity; it can not (wheresoeuer it is found) haue any other formall cause then quantity: and therefore, eyther the two litle partes of different Elements, do not become one body: or if they doe, we must agree that it is by the nature of quantity, which worketh as much in heterogeneall partes, as it doth in homogeneall ones. And it must needes do so: because Rarity and Dēsity (which are the proper differencies of Quantity) can not change the common nature of Quantity, that is their Genus: which by being so to them, must be vniuocally in them both. And this effect cometh precisely from the pure notion of the Genus: and consequently, must be seene as well in two partes of different natures, as in two partes of the same nature: but in partes of the same nature, which once were two, and afterwardes become one; there can be no other reason why they are one, then the very same for which those partes that were neuer seperated (but that may be seperated) are likewise one: and this, most euidently, is the nature of quantity.

Experience seemeth to confirme thus much; when pouring water out of a basin, some of it will remaine sticking to the sides, of the mettall: for if the quantity of the basin, and of the water, had not beene one and the same by its owne nature; the water (considering the plyablenesse of its partes) would certainely haue commen all away, and haue glided from the vneuennesse of the basin, by the attractive vnity of its whole, and would haue preserued the vnity of its quantity within it selfe, rather then by sticking to the basin, haue suffered diuision in its owne quantity;

which we are sure was one, whiles the water was altogether in the basin: but that, both the basin and the water making but one quantity; and a diuision being vnauoydable in that one quantity; it was indifferent, in regard of the quantity considered singly by it selfe, where this diuision should be made, whether in the partes of the basin, or in the partes of the water: and then, the other circumstances determined it in that part of the water which was neerest to the ioyning of it with the basin.

The second effect (which was resistance to diuisibility;) we assigned vnto density. And of that same cause, must also depend the like effect in this case of the sticking together of the two partes of different Elements, when they are ioyned to one an other: for if the two partes, whereof one is dense, the other is rare, do not exceede the quantity of some other part of one homogeneall rare Element for the diuiding whereof, such a determinate force, and no lesse can suffice: then, seeing that the whole composed of these two partes is not so diuisible as the whole consisting of that one part; the assigned force will not be able to diuide them. Wherefore it is plaine, that if the rare part had beene ioyned to an other rare part in steed of the dense one it is ioyned vnto; it had beene more easily diuidable from that, then now it is from the dense part. And by consequence it sticketh more closely to the dense part, then it would to an other of its owne nature.

Out of what we haue said,6 1.128 a steppe is made vs to vnderstand why soft and liqnid bodies do easily ioyne and incorporate into one continued body; but hard and dry bodies so difficulty, as by experience we find to be true. Water with water, or wine eyther with other wine or with water, so vniteth, that it is very hard to part them: but sand or stones can not be made to sticke together without very great force and industry. The reasons whereof, must necessarily depend of what we haue said aboue. To witt that two bodies can not touch one an other, without becoming one: and, that if two bodies of one degree of density do touch, they must sticke together according to the force of that degree of density. Out of which two, is manifestly inferred, that if two hard thinges, should come to touch, they must needes be more difficultly seperated then two liquid thinges. And consequently, they can not come to touch, without as much difficulty, as that whereby they are made one.

But to deduce this more particularly;7 1.129 lett vs consider, that all the litle surfaces, by which one hard body may be conceiued to touch an other (as for example, when a stone lyeth vpon a stone) must of necessity be eyther plane, or concaue, or conuexe. Now if a plane superficies should be supposed to touch an other plane one coming perpendicularly to it; it must of necessity be granted to touch it as soone in the middle as on the sides. Wherefore, if there were any ayre (as of necessity there must be) betwixt the two surfaces before they touched; it will follow that the ayre which was in the middle, must haue fled quite out from betweene the two surfaces, as soone as any part of the surfaces do touch; that is, as

soone as the ayre which was betweene the vtmost edges of the surfaces did fly out; and by consequence it must haue moued in an instant.

But if a plane surface be said to touch a conuexe surface; it toucheth it onely by a line, (as Mathematicans demonstrate) or onely by a point. But, to touch by a line or a point, is in truth, not to touch by the forme or notion of Quantity, (which requireth diuisibility in all that belongeth vnto it; ) and dy consequence among bodies it is not to touch; and so, one such surface doth not touch the other.

Now, for a plaine surface to touch a concaue; euery man seeth is impossible. Likewise, for two cōuexe surfaces to touch one an other, they must be allowed to touch eyther in a line or in a point, which we haue shewed not to be a physicall touching. And if a conuexe surface should bee said to touch a concaue; they must touch all att once as we said of plane surfaces; and therefore the same impossibility will arise therein: so that it is euident, that no two surfaces, mouing perpendicularly towardes one an other, can come to touch one an other, if neyther of them yieldeth, and changeth its hew.

Now then, if it be supposed that they come slidingly one ouer an other in the same line; whereby, first the very tippes of the edges come to touch one an other; and still as you shooue the vpermost on forwardes, and that it slideth ouer more of the nether surface, it gaineth to touch more of it. I say that neither in this case do they touch immediately one an other: for as soone as the two first partes should meete, if they did touch, and that there were no ayre betweene them; they must presently become one quantity or body, as we haue declared; and must sticke firmely together, according to their degree of density; and cōsequently, could not be moued on, without still breaking a sūderatt euery impulse, as much of the massy body, as were already made one by their touching.

And if you should say they did not become one; and yet allow them to touch immediately one an other without hauing any ayre or fluide body betweene them; then if you suppose them to moue onwardes vpon these termes; they would be changed locally, without any intrinsecall change: which in the booke De Mundo (as we haue formerly alleadged) is demonstrated to be impossible.

There remayneth onely a third way for two hard surfaces to come together; which is, that first they should rest sloaping one vpon an other, and make an angle where they meete (as two lines, that cutt one an other, do in their point of their intersection) and so containe as it were a wedge of ayre betweene them, which wedge they should lessen by litle and litle, through their mouing towardes one an other att their most distant edges (whiles the touching edges, are like immoueable centers that the others turne vpon) till att length they shutt out all the ayre, and close together, like the two legges of a compasse.

But neither is it possible that this way they should touch, for after their first touch by one line (which neyther is in effect a touching, as we haue

shewed) no other partes of them can touch, though still they approach neerer and neerer, vntill their whole surfaces do entirely touch att one: and therefore, the ayre must in this case leap out in an instant a greater space, then if the surfaces came perpendicularly to one an other; for here it must fly from one extremity to the other: whereas, in the former case, it was to goe but from the middle to each side.

And thus it is euident, that no two bodies can arriue to touch one an other, vnlesse one of them att the least, haue a superficies plyable to the superficies of the other; that is, vnlesse one of them be lost, which is, to be liquide in some degree. Seeing then, that by touching, bodies do become one; and that liquidity, is the cause and meanes whereby bodies arriue to touch; we may boldly conclude that two liquide bodies do most easily and readily become one; and next to two such, a liquide and a hard body, are soonest vnited: but two hard ones most difficultly.

To proceede then with our reflections vpon the composition of bodies,8 1.130 and vpon what resulteth out of the ioyning and mixture of their first differences Rarity and Density; we see, how if a liquide substance happeneth to touch a dry body it sticketh easily therevnto. Then consider, that there may be so small a quantity of such a liquide body, as it may be almost impossible for any naturall agent to diuide it further into any lesse partes; and suppose that such a liquide part is betweene two dry partes of a dense body, and sticking to them both, becometh in the nature of a glew to hold them together: will it not follow out of what wee haue said, that these two dense partes will be as hard to be seuered from one an other, as the small liquide part by which they sticke together is to be diuided? So that, when the viscous ligaments which in a body do hold together the dense partes, are so small and subtile, as no force we can apply vnto them can diuide them, the adhesion of the partes must needes grow then inseparable. And therefore, we vse to moysten dry bodies, to make them the more easily be diuided; whereas those that are ouermoyst, are of themselues ready to fall in pieces.9 1.131 And thus you see how in generall, bodies are framed.

Out of which discourse, we may ballance the degrees of solidity in bodies, for all bodies being composed of humide and dry partes, we may conceiue either kind of those partes, to be bigger or lesser, or to be more rare or more dense. Now if the dry partes of any body, be extreme litle and dense; and the moyst partes that ioyne the dry ones together, be very great and rare; then that body will be very easy to be dissolued. But if the moyst partes which glew together such extreme litle and dense dry partes, be eyther lesser in bulke or not so rare; then the body composed of them will be in a stronger degree of consistence. And if the moyst partes which serue for this effect; be in an excesse of littlenesse and with∣all dense; then, the body they compose will be in the highest degree of consistence that nature can frame.

On the other side; if you glew together great dry partes, which are

moderately dense and great, by the admixtion of humide partes that are of the least cise in bulke, and dense withall; then the consistence will decrease from the height of it by how much the partes are greater, and the density lesse. But if vnto dry partes of the greatest cise, and in the greatest remissenesse of density, you adde humide partes that are both very great and very rare, then the composed body will proue the most easily dissolueable of all that nature affordeth.

10 1.132After this, casting our eyes a litle further towardes the composition of particular bodies; wee shall find still greater mixtures, the further we goe▪ for as the first and simplest compounded bodies, are made of the foure Elements; so, others are made of these; and againe a third sort of them: and so, onwardes, according as by motion, the partes of euery one are broken in sunder, and mingled with others. Those of the first order, must be of various tempers according to the proportions of the Elements, whereof they are immediately made. As for example, such a proportion of fire to the other three Elements, will make one kind of simple body, and an other proportion will make an other kind: and so throughout, by various combinations and proportions among all the Elements.

In the effecting of which worke, it will not be amisse to looke a litle vpon nature; and obserue how she mingleth and tempereth different bodies one with an other, whereby she begetteth that great variety of creatures which we see in the world. But because the degrees of composition are infinite, according to the encrease of number, we will containe our selues within the common notions of excesse in the foure primary components, for if we should descend once to specify any determinate proportions, we should endanger loosing our selues in a wood of particular natures, which belong not to vs att present to examine. Then taking the foure Elements as materials to worke vpon: lett vs first consider how they may be varyed, that differing compositions may result out of their mixtures. I conceiue that all the wayes of varying the Elements in this regard, may be reduced to the seuerall cises of bignesse, of the partes of each Element, that enter into the composition of any body, and to the number of those partes: for certainely no other can be imagined, vnlesse it were variety of figure.

But that can not be admitted to belong in any constant manner to those least particles where of bodies are framed; as though determinate figures were in euery degree of quantity due to the natures of Elements, and therefore, the Elements would conserue themselues in those figures, as well in their least atomes, as in massye bulke: for seeing how these litle partes are shuffled together without any order; and that all liquids easily ioyne, and take the figures which the dense ones giue them; and that they againe, iustling one an other, do crush themselues into new shapes, which their mixture with the liquide ones, maketh them yield the more easily vnto: it is impossible that the Elements should haue any other

naturall figure in these their least partes, then such as chance giueth them. But that one part must be bigger then an other is euident; for the nature of rarity and density giueth it: the first of them, causing diuisibility into litle partes, and the latter, hindering it.

Hauing then settled in what manner the Elements may be varied in the composition of bodies:11 1.133 lett vs now beginne our mixture. In which, our ground to worke vpon must be earth and water; for onely these two are the basis of permanent bodies, that suffer our senses to take hold of them, and that submitt themselues to tryall: whereas, if we should make the predominant Element to be ayre or fire, and bring in the other two solide ones vnder their iurisdiction to make vp the mixture, the compound resulting out of them, would be eyther in continuall consumption, (as ordinary fire is) or else imperceptible to our eyes or touch, and therefore, not a fitt subiect for vs to discourse of, since the other two afford vs enough to speculate vpon. Peraduenture our smell migh take some cognisance of a body so composed, or the effect of it taken in by respiration, might in time shew it selfe vpon our health: but it concerneth not vs now to look so farre; our designe requireth more maniable substances.

Of which,12 1.134 lett water be the first; and with it we will mingle the other three Elements, in excesse ouer one an other by turnes; but still, all of them ouerswayed by a predominant quantity of water: and then, lett vs see what kind of bodies will result out of such proportions. First, if earth preuayle aboue fire and ayre, and arriue next in proportion to the water, a body of such a composition, must needes prooue hardly liquide, and not easy to lett its partes runne a sunder, by reason of the great proportion of so dense a body as earth that holdeth it together. Yet some inclination it will haue to fluidnesse, by reason the water is predominant ouer all; which also will make it be easily diuisible, and giue very litle resistance to any hard thing that shall be applyed to make way through it. In a word, this mixture maketh the constitution of mudde, durt, honey, butter and such like thinges where the maine partes are great ones. And such, are the partes of earth and water in themselues.

Lett the next proportion of excesse in a watry compound,13 1.135 be of ayre, which when it preuayleth, it incorporateth it selfe chiefely with Earth, for the other Elements would not so well retaine it. Now, because its partes are subtile (by reason of the rarity it hath) and sticking, (because of its humidity) it driueth the Earth and water likewise into lesser partes. The result of such a mixture is, that the partes of a boby compounded by it are close, catching, flowing slowly, glibbe, and generally it will burne, and be easily conuerted into flame.

Of this kind, are those which we call oyly or vnctuous bodies whose great partes are easily separated, (that is, they are easily diuisible in bulke,) but the small ones very hardly. Next the smallnesse, and well

working of the partes, by meanes of the ayres penetrating euery dense one, and sticking close to euery one of them, and consequently, ioyning them without any vneuennesse; causeth that there can be no ruggednesse in it; and therefore, it is glibbe: in like manner as we see plaster or starch become smooth when they are well wrought. Then, the humidity of it causeth it to be catcking, and the shortenesse of euery part, maketh that where it sticketh, it is not easily parted thence. Now, the rarity of ayre next vnto fire, admitteth it to be (of all the other Elements) most easily, brought to the height of fire, by the operation of fire vpon it. And therefore, oyles are the proper foode of that Element. And accordingly we see, that if a droppe of oyle be spilled vpon a sheete of paper, and the paper be sett on fire att a corner; as the fire cometh neere the oyle, the oyle will disperse and spread it selfe vpon the paper to a broader compasse then it had; which is, because the heat rarifyeth it; and so, in oyle it selfe the fire rarifying the ayre, maketh it penetrate the earthy partes adioyned vnto it, more then it did; and so subtiliseth them, till they be reduced to such a height as they are within the power of fire to communicate his owne nature vnto them: and thus, he turneth them into fire, and carrieth them vp in his flame.

14 1.136But if fire be predominant ouer earth and ayre in a watry compound; it maketh the body so proportioned, to be subtile, rare, penetratiue, hoat in operation, light in weight, and subiect to burne. Of this kind are all sortes of wines, and distilled spirits, commonly called strong waters or Aquauites; in latine Aquae ardentes. These will loose their vertues meerely by remaining vncouered in the ayre; for fire doth not incorporate strongly with water; but, if it find meanes, rayseth it selfe into the ayre; as we see in the smoake of boyling water which is nothing else but litle bodies of fire, that entring into the water, do rarify some partes of it; but haue no inclination to stay there and therefore as fast as they can gett out, they fly away; but the humide partes of the water, which they haue rarifyed (being of a sticking nature) do ioyne themselues vnto them, and ascend in the ayre as high as the fiery atomes haue strength to carry them: which when it faileth them, that smoake falleth downe in a dew, and so becometh water againe as it was. All which one may easily discerne in a glasse vessell of water sett ouer the fire; in which one may obserue the fire come in att the bottome, and presently swimme vp to the toppe like a litle bubble, and immediately rise from thence in smoake: and that, will att last conuert it selfe into droppes and settle vpon some solide substance thereabouts.

Of these fyry spirits, some are so subtile, as of themselues they will vanish, and leaue no residue of a body behind them; and Alchymistes prof••sse to make them so etheriall and volatile, that being poured out of a glasse from some reasonable height, they shall neuer reach the ground: but that before they come thither, they will be so rarifyed by that litle motion, as they shall grow inuisible like the ayre, and dispersing

themselues all about in it, they will fill the chamber with the smell of that body which can no longer be seene.

The last excesse in watry bodies,15 1.137 must be of water it selfe, which is, when so litle a proportion of any of the other is mingled with it, as is hardly perceptible: out of this composition do arise all those seuerall sortes of iuices or liquors, which we commonly call waters: which by their mixture with the other three Elements, haue peculiar properties beyond simple Elementall water. The generall qualities whereof, we shall not neede any further to expresse, because, by what we haue already said of water in common, they are sufficiently knowne.

In our next suruay,16 1.138 we will take earth for our ground to worke vpon, as hitherto we haue done water: which if in any body, it be in the vtmost excesse of it beyond all the other three; then, rockes and stones will grow out of it; whose dryenesse ad hardnesse may assure vs, that Earth swayeth in their composition, with the least allay that may be. Nor doth their lightnesse (in respect of some other Earthy compositions) impeach this resolution; for that proceedeth from the greatnesse and multiplicity of pores; wherewith their dryenesse causeth them to abound and hindereth not, but that their reall solide partes may be very heauy.

Now if we mingle a considerable proportion of water with earth;17 1.139 so, as to exceede the fire and ayre, but still inferior to the earth; we shall produce mettalls: whose great weight, with their ductility and malleability, plainely telleth vs, that the smallest of waters grosse partes, are the glew that holdeth the earthy dense ones together: such weight, belonging to earth, and that easye changing of partes, being most proper to water. Quickesiluer (that is the generall matter, whereof all the mettalls are immediately cōposed) giueth vs euidence hereof; for fire worketh vpon it with the same effect as vpon water. And the calcination of most of the mettalls, proueth that fire can easily part and consume the glew by which they were closed and held together: which therefore, must be rather of a watry then of an ayry substance. Likewise the glibbenesse of Mercury, and of melted mettalls, without catching or sticking to other substances, giueth vs to vnderstand that this great temper of a moyst Element with Earth, is water, and not ayre; and that the watry partes are comprised, and as it were shutt vp within the earthy ones: for ayre catcheth and sticketh notably to all thinges it toucheth, and will not be imprisoned; the diuisibity of it being exceeding great, though in neuer so short partes.

Now if ayre mingleth it selfe with earth,18 1.140 and be predominant ouer water and fire; it maketh such an oyly and fatt soile, as husbandmen account their best mould; which receiuing a betterment from the sunne and temperate heat, assureth vs of the concurse of the ayre: for wheresoeuer su••h heate is, ayre can not faile of accompanying it, or of being effected by it: and the richest of such earth, (as port earth and marle) will with much fire grow more compacted, and sticke closer

together then it did; as we see in baking them into pottes or fine brickes. Whereas, if water were the glew betweene the dense partes fire would consume it and crumble them a sunder, as it doth in those bodies it calcineth And excesse of fire will bring them to vitrification; which still confirmeth that ayre aboundeth in them; for it is the nature of ayre to sticke so close where once it is kneaded in, as it can not be seperated without extreme difficulty. And to this purpose, the viscous holding together of the partes of glasse when it is melted, sheweth euidently that ayre aboundeth in vitrifyed bodies.

19 1.141The last mixture we are to meddle with, is of fire with earth, in an ouerruling proportion ouer ayre and water. And this I conceiue produceth those substances, which we may terme coagulated iuices, and which the latines do call Succi concreti: whose first origine, seemeth to haue beene liquors; that haue beene afterwardes dryed by the force eyther of heate, or of cold. Of this nature are all kind of saltes, niters sulfurs, and diuers sortes of bitumens. All which, easily bewray the relikes an deffects of fire left in them; some more, some lesse, according to their degrees.

20 1.142And thus, we haue in generall, deduced from their causes, the complexions of those bodies, whereof the bulke of the world subiected to our vse, consisteth; and which serue for the production and nourishment of liuing creatures, both animall and vegetable. Not so exactly (I confesse) nor so particularly, as the matter in it selfe, or as a treatise confined to that subiect, would require: yet sufficiently for our intent. In the performance whereof, if more accurate searchers of nature shall find that we haue peraduenture beene mistaken in the minute deliuering of some particular bodies complexion; their very correction (I dare boldly say) will iustify our principall scope: which is, to shew that all the great variety we see among bodies, ariseth out of the cōmixtion of the first qualities and of the Elements: for they will not be able to correct vs, vpon any other groundes then those we haue layed.

As may easily be perceiued, if we cast a summary view vpon the qualities of composed bodies. All which we shall find to spring out of rarity, and density, and to sauour of their origine: for the most manifest qualities of bodies may be reduced to certaine paires opposite to one an other. As namely some are liquide and flowing, others are consistent; some are soft others hard; some are fatty, viscous, and smooth; others leane, gritty, and rough; some grosse, othert subtile; some tough, others brittle: and the like. Of which the liquide, the soft, the fatt and the viscous, are so manifestly deriued from rarity, that we neede not take any further paines to trace out their origine: and the like is of their contraries, from the contrary cause; to witt of those bodies that are consistent, hard, leane, and gritty, all which do euidently spring from density. As for smoothnesse, we haue already shewed how that proceedeth from an ayry or oyly nature; and by consequence, from a certaine degree of rarity. And therefore roughnesse (the contrary of it)

must proceede from a proportionable degree of density. Toughnesse, is also a kind of ductility, which we haue reduced to watrynesse, that is, to an other degree of rarity; and consequently brittlenesse must arise from the contrary degree of density. Lastly, grossenesse and subtilenesse do consist in a difficulty or facility to be diuided into small partes, which appeareth to be nothing else, but a certaine determination of rarity and density. And thus, we see; how the seuerall complexions of bodies, are reduced to the foure Elements that compound them: and the qualities of those bodies, to the two primary differencies of quantatiue thinges by which the Elements are diuersifyed.

And out of this discourse it will be euident,21 1.143 that these complexions and qualities, though in diuerse degrees, must of necessity be found wheresoeuer there is any variation in bodies: for seeing there can be no variation in bodies, but by rarity and density; and that the pure degrees of rarity and density, do make heate, cold, moisture, and drynesse, and (in a word) the foure Elements; it is euident, that wheresoeuer there is variety of bodies, there must be the foure Elements; though peraduenture farre vnlike these mixed bodies which we call Elements. And againe, because these Elements can not consist without motion; and because by motion they do of necessity, produce mixed bodies, and forge out those qualities, which we come from explicating; it must by like necessity, follow▪ that wheresoeuer there is any variety of actiue and passiue bodies; there mixed bodies likewise must reside of the same kindes, and be endewed with qualities of the like natures, as those we haue treated of; though peraduenture, such as are in other places of the world remote from vs, may be in a degree farre different from ours.

Since then, it can not be denyed, but that there must be notable variety of actiue and passiue bodies wheresoeuer there is light: ney••her can it be denyed, but that in all those great bodies from which light is reflected vnto vs, there must be a like variety of complexions and of qualities, and of bodies tempered by them, as we find here in the orbe we liue in. Which systeme; how d••fferent it is from that which Aristotle and the most of the schoole haue deliuered vs, as well in the euidencies of the proofes for its being so; as in the position and modell of it; I leaue vnto the prudent readers to consider and iudge.

Out of what hath beene already said,22 1.144 it is not hard to discouer in what manner the composition of bodies is made. In effecting of which; the maine hinge whereon that motion depēdeth, is fire or heate: as it likewise is, in all other motions whatsoeuer. Now because the composition of a mixed, body proceedeth f••om the action of one simple body or element vpon the others: it will not be amisse to declare by some example how this work•• passeth: for th••t purpose, lett vs examine how fire or heate wo••keth vpon his f••llowes.

By what w•• haue formerly deliuered; it is cleare that fire streaming out from its center, and diffusing it selfe abroad, so as to fill the

circumference of a larger circle, it must needes follow, that the beames of it are most condensed and compacted together neere the center; and the further they streame from the center, the more thinne and rarifyed they must grow: yet this is with such moderation, as we can not any where discerne that one beame doth not touch an other; and therefore, the distances must be very small. Now lett vs suppose that fire happeneth to be in a viscous and tenacious body; and then consider what will happen in this case: of one side, the fire spreadeth it selfe abroad; on the other side, the partes of the tenacious body being moist (as we haue formerly determined) their edges on all handes will sticke fast to the dry beames of the fire that passe betweene them. Then they stretching wider and wider from one an other must needes draw with them the partes of that tenacious body which sticke vnto them; and stertch them into a greater widenesse or largenesse then they enioyed before, frō whēce it followeth, that (seeing there is no other body neere thereaboutes, but they two) eyther there must be a vacuity left, or else the tenacious body must hold and fill a greater space then it did before; and consequently be more rare.

Contrarywise, if any of the other Elements be stronger then fire, the denser Elements breake off, from their continued streame, the little partes of fire, which were gotten into their greater partes: and sticking on all sides about them, they do so enclose them that they haue no more semblance of fire: and if afterwardes by any accident there cometh a great compression, they force them to loose their naturall rarity, and to become some other Element. Thus it fareth with fire, both in acting and in suffering. And the same course, we haue in both these regardes expressed of it, passeth likewise in the rest of the Elements to the proportion of their contrarieties.

Hence it followeth, that when fire meeteth with humidity in any body, it diuideth and subtiliseth it, and disperseth it gently, and in a kind of equall manner through the whole body it is in, (if the operation of it be a naturall and a gentle one) and so driueth it into other partes, which att the same time it prepareth to receiue it by subtilising likewise those partes. And thus moderate fire, maketh humour in very small partes to incorporate it selfe in an euen or vniforme manner with the dry partes it meeteth withall: which being done whether the heate doth afterwardes continue, or that cold succeedeth in lieu of it, the effect must of necessity be, that the body thus composed, be bound vp and fastened, more or lesse according to the proportion of the matter it is made of, and of the Agents that worke vpon it, and of the time they employ about it. This is euery day seene, in the ripening of fruites and in other frequent workes, as well of art as of nature, and is so obuious; and sensible to any reasonable obseruation that it is needelesse to enlarge my selfe much vpon this subiect.23 1.145

Onely, it will not be amisse, for examples sake, to consider the progresse of it in the composing or augmenting of mettalls, or of earths of diuers

sorts: first heate (as we haue said) draweth humour out of all the bodies it worketh vpon: then if the extracted humour be in quantity and the steames of it do happen to come together in some hollow place fitt to assemble them into greater partes; they are condensed and they fall downe in a liquide and running body. These steames being thus corporifyed, the body, resulting out of them, maketh it selfe in the earth a channell to runne in: and if there be any loose partes in the channell, they mingle themselues with the running liquor: and though there be none such, yet in time the liquor it selfe looseneth the channell all about, and imbibeth into its owne substāce the partes it raiseth. And thus, all of them compacted together, do roule along till they tumble into some low place, out of which they can not so easily gett to wander further. When they are thus settled, they do the more easily receiue into them, and retaine such heate as is euery where to be mett withall, because it is diffused more or lesse through the earth. This heate, if it be sufficient, digesteth it into a solide body: the temper of cold likewise concurring in its measure to this effect. And according to the variety of the substances whereof the first liquour was made, and which it afterwardes drew along with it; the body that resulteth out of them is diuersifyed.

In confirmation of all which, they that deale in mines, tell vs they vse to find mettalls oftentimes mingled with stones; as also, coagulated iuices with both; and earths of diuers natures, with all three; and they with it, and one with an other among themselues. And that sometimes they find the mines not yet consolidated and digested throughly into mettall; when by their experience knowing after how many yeares they will be ripe, they shutt them vp againe till then.

Now if the hollow place wherein the body stayed (which att the first was liquid and rouling) be not att once filled by it, but it taketh vp onely part of it; and the same liquor continueth afterwardes to flow thither▪ then this body is augmented, and groweth bigger and bigger. And although the liquors should come att seuerall times; yet, they become not therefore two seuerall bodies, but both liquors do grow into one body; for the wett parts of the aduentitious liquor, do mollify the sides of the body already baked; and both of them being of a like temper and cognation, they easily sticke and grow together.

Out of this discours it followeth euidently, that in all sortes of compounded bodies whatsoeuer, there must of necessity, be actually comprised sundry partes of diuers natures: for otherwise, they would be but so many pure degrees of rarity and density; that is, they would be but so many pure Elements, and each of them haue but one determinate vertue or operation.

THE FIFTEENTH CHAPTER. Of the dissolution of Mixed bodies.

THus much for composition of bodies. Their dissolution is made three wayes:1 1.146 eyther by fire, or by water, or by some outward violence. We will beginne with examining how this last is done. To which end we may consider▪ that the vnity of any body consisting in the connexion of its partes; it is euident that the force of motion, if it be exercised vpon them, must of necessity separate them, as we see in breaking, cutting, filing, drawing a sunder, and the like.

All these motions, because they are done by grosse bodies, do require great partes to worke vpon, and are easily discerned how they worke: so that it is not difficult to find the reason why some hard bodies breake easily, and others with much adoe. The first of which are called brittle, the others tough. For if you marke it, all breaking requireth that bēding hould precede: which on the one side compresseth the partes of the bended body, and condenseth them into a lesser roome then they possessed before; and on the otherside stretcheth them out, and maketh them take vp more place. This requireth some fluide or moueable substance to be within the body; else, it could not be done; for without such helpe, the partes could not remoue. Therefore such hard bodies as haue most fluide partes in them, are most flexible, that is are toughest. And those which haue fewest, though they become thereby hardest to haue impression made vpon them, yet if the force be able to do it, they rather yield to breake then to bend; and thence, are called brittle.

Out of this we may inferre, that some bodies may be so soddainely bent as that thereby they breake asunder; whereas if they were leisurely and gently dealed withall, they would take what ply one desireth. And likewise that there is no body (be it neuer so brittle and hard) but that it will bend a litle (and indeed more then one would expect) if it be wrought vpon with time and dexterity; for there is none but cōtaineth in it some liquide partes, more or lesse: euen glasse and bricke. Vpon which occasion I remember, how once in a great storme of wind, I saw the high slender bricke chimnyes of the Kinges house att St Iames (one winter when (the ourt lay there) bend from the wind like bowes, and sharke exceedingly, and totter. And at other times I haue seen some very high, and pointy spire steeples do the like. And I haue beene assured the like of the whole pile of a high castle, standing in a gullett in the course of the wind; (namely the castle of Wardour) by those who haue often seene it shake notably in a fierce wind.

The reason of all which may be deduced out of what we haue said aboue: for seeing that the bending of a body, maketh the spirits or humors that are within it, to sally forth; it is cleare that if the violence

which forceth it, be not so soddaine, nor the motion it receiueth, be not so quicke, but that the moisture may oose gently out; the body will bend, still more and more, as their absence glueth it leaue. But if the motion that is wrought in it be too quicke; then the spirits not hauing time allowed them to goe leisurely and gently out, do force their prison, and breake out with a violence; and so the body is snapped into two.

Here peraduenture some remembring what we haue said in an other place;2 1.147 namely, that it is the shortenesse and littlenesse of the humide partes in a body, which maketh it sticke together; and that this shortenesse may be in so high a degree, as nothing can come betweene the partes they glew together to diuide them; may aske how a very dense body of such a straine, can be broken or diuided? But the difficulty is not great, for seeing that the humide partes, in whatsoeuer degree of shortenesse they be, must necessarily haue still some latitude; it can not be doubted, but there may be some force assigned, greater then their resistance can be. All the question is, how to apply it to worke its effect vpon so close a compacted body, in which peraduenture the continuity, of the humide partes that bind the others together, may be so small, as no other body whatsoeuer (no, not fire) can goe betweene them, in such sort as to separate part from part. Att the worst, it can not be doubted but that the force may be so applyed att the outside of that body, as to make the partes of it presse, and fight one against an other, and att the length, by multiplication of the force, constraine it to yield and suffer diuision. And this I conceiue to be the condition of gold and of some pretious stones: in which the Elements are vnited by such little partes, as nothing but a ciuill warre within themselues (stirred vp by some subtile outward enemy, whereby they are made to teare their owne bowels) could bring to passe their destruction.

But this way of dissoluing such bodies, more properly belongeth to the next way of working vpon them by fire: yet the same is done when some exterior violence pressing vpon those partes it toucheth, maketh them cu••t a way betweene their next neighbours; and so continuing the force, diuide the whole body. As when the chisell, or euen the hammer with beating, breaketh gold a sunder: for it is neyther the chisell, nor the hammer that doth that effect immediately; but they make those partes they touch, cutt the others that they are forced vpon. In such sort as I remember happened to a gentleman that stood by me (in a sea fight I was in) with a coate of maile vpon his body, when a bullett coming against a bony part in him, made a great wound, and shattered all the bones neere where it strucke:3 1.148 and yet the coate of maile was whole: it seemeth the little linkes of the maile yielding to the bullets force made their way into the flesh and to the bone.

But now it is time to come to the other two instruments of separation of bodies; fire and water; and to examine how they dissolue compounds. Of these two; the way of working of fire, is the easiest

and most apparant to be discerned. We may readily obserue how it proceedeth, if we but sett a piece of wood on fire; in which it maketh little holes as if with bodkins it pierced it. So that the manner of its operation, in common, being plaine, wee neede but reflect a little vpon the seuerall particular degrees of it. Some bodies it seemeth not to touch; as clothes made of Asbestus; which are onely purifyed by it. Others, it melteth, but consumeth not; as gold. Others it turneth into pouder suddainely dissoluing their body; as lead, and such mettalls as are calcined by pure fire. Others againe, it seperateth into a greater number of differing partes; as into spirits, waters, oyles, salts, earth and glasse: of which ranke are all vegetables. And lastly, others it conuerteth into pure fire, as strong waters, or Aquauites (called aquae ardentes) and some pure oyles: for the smoake that is made by their setting on fire, and peraduen∣ture their salt, is so little as is scarce discernable. These are in summe the diuisions which fire maketh vpon bodies, according to the nature of them, and to the due application of it vnto them: for by the helppe and mediation of other thinges, it may peraduenture worke other effects.

4 1.149Now to examine a little in particular, how the same fire, in differing subiects produceth such defferent effects▪

Limus vt hic durescit, & haec vt cera liquescit, Vno eodemque igni;

We will consider the nature of euery one of the subiects apart by it selfe. First, for the Asbestus: it is cleare, that it is of a very dry substance; so that to looke vpon it, when it is broken into very little pieces, they seeme to be little bundles of short haires, the liquidity within, being so little as it affordeth the partes neyther length nor breadth: and therefore, fire meeteth with litle there, that it can dilate. But what it can not dilate, it can not separate; nor carry away any thing of it, but what is accidentally adherēt vnto the outsides of it. And so it seemeth onely to passe through the pores, and to cleāse the litle thriddes of it: but bringeth no detriment att all to the substance of it. In this I speake onely of an ordinary fire: for I doubt not but such a one it might be,5 1.150 as would perfectly calcine it.

The next body we spoke of is gold. This aboundeth so much in liqui∣dity, that it sticketh to the fire, if duely applyed: but its humidity is so well vnited to its earthy partes, and is so perfectly incorporated with thē; as it can not carry away one, without likewise carrying away both: but both, are too heauy a weight for the litle agile partes of fire to remoue. Thus, it is able to make gold swell; as we see in melting it: in which, the gold receiueth the fire into its bowels and retaineth it a lōg time with it: but at its departure, it permitteth the fire to carry nothing away vpon its winges: as is apparant, by the goldes no whitt decay of weight, after neuer so long fusion. And therefore, to haue fire make any separation in gold; requireth the assistance of some other moyst body, that an the one side may sticke closely to the gold, when the fire driueth it into it, and on the other side may be capable of dilatation, by the action of the fire vpon it. As in some sort we see in strong waters made of saltes, which are a proper

subiect for the fire to dilate, who, by the assistance of fire, mingling them∣selues closely with litle partes of the gold, do pull them away from their whole substāce, and do force them to beare them cōpany in their iourny vpwardes, in which, multitudes of litle partes of fire, do concurre to presse thē on and hastē thē: and so, the weight of gold being att lēgth ouercome by these two powerfull Agents (whereof one supplyeth, what the other wanteth) the whole substance of the metall, is in litle atomes diffused through the whole body of the water. But this is not truly a dissolution or a separation of the substantiall partes of gold, one from an other: it is onely a corrosion, which bringeth it into a subtile pouder, (when the water and saltes are seperated from it) much like what filing (though farre smaller) or grinding of leafe gold vpon a porphyre stone, may reduce it into: for neyther the partes of the water, nor of the fire that make themselues a way into the body of the gold; are small and subtile enough to gett betweene the partes that compose the essence of it: and therefore, all they can attaine vnto, is to diuide it onely in his quantity or bulke; not in the composition of its nature.

Yet I intend not to deny, but that this is possible to be arriued vnto, eyther by pure fire duly applyed; or by some other assistance▪ as peraduenture, by some kind of Mercury: which being of a neerer cognation vnto mettalls, then any other liquor is; may happily haue a more powerfull ingression into gold, then any other body whatsoeuer; and being withall very subiect to rarefaction, it may (after it is entered) so perfectly penetrate the gold, as it may seperate euery least part of it, and so reduce it into an absolute calx. But in this place I explicate no more then what ordinarily passeth; leauing the mysteries of this art to those who professe it.

To goe on then with what we haue in hand;6 1.151 lead hath aboundance of water ouermingled with its earth, as appeareth by its easy yielding to be bend any w••y, and by its quiet standing bent in the same position that the force which bowed it leaueth it in. And therefore, the liquide partes of lead, are easily separated from its dry and earthy ones: and when it is melted, the very shaking of it, causeth the grosse partes to descend, and many liquid ones to fly away with the fire: so that, suddainely it is thus conuerted into pouder. But this pouder is grosse, in respect of other mettalls; vnlesse this operation be often reiterated, or the fire more powerfully applyed, then what is iust enough to bring the body of the lead into pouder.

The next consideration of bodies that fire worketh vpon;7 1.152 is of such as it diuideth into spirits, saltes, oyles, waters, or phlegmes, and earth. Now these are not pure and simple partes of the dissolued body, but new cōpounded bodies, made of the first by the operation of heat. As smoake is not pure water, but water and fire together: and therefore becometh not water, but by cooling, that is, by the fire flying away from it. So likewise those spirits, salts, oyles, and the rest; are but degrees of thinges,

which fire maketh of diuers partes of the dissolued body, by seperating them one from an other, and incorporating it selfe with them. And so, they are all of them compounded of the foure Elements; and are further resoluable into them.

Yet I intend not to say that there are not originally in the body before its dissolution, some loose partes which haue the properties of these bodies that are made by the fire in the dissoluing of it: for seeing that nature worketh by the like instruments as art vseth; she must needes, in her excesses and defects, produce like bodies to what art doth in dissolution; which operation of art is but a kind of excesse in the progresse of nature: but my meaning is, that in such dissolution, there are more of these partes made by the working of fire, then were in the body before.

Now because this is the naturall and most ordinary dissolution of thinges; lett vs see in particular how it is done: suppose then that fire were in a conuenient manner applyed, to a body that hath all sortes of partes in it; and our owne discourse will tell vs, that the first effect it worketh will be, that as the subtile partes of fire do diuide, and passe through that body, they will adhere to the most subtile partes in it; which being most agile, and least bound, and incorporated to the bowels of the body, and lying (as it were) loosely scattered in it, the fire will carry them away with it. Th••se will be the first that are seperated from the maine body; which being retained in a fitt receiuer, will by the coldenesse of the circumdant ayre grow outwardly coole themselues, and become first a dew vpon the sides of the glasse, and then still as they grow cooler, condense more and more; till att the length they fall downe congealed into a palpable liquor; which is composed (as you see) of the hoatest partes of the body, mingled with the fire that carried them out: and therefore this liquor, is very inflammable, and easily turned into actuall fire; as you see all spirits and Aquae ardentes of vegetables are.

The hoat and loose partes being extracted; and the fire continuing and encreasing; those that will follow next are such, as though they be not of themselues loose; yet are easyest to be made so; and are therefore most separable. These must be humide; and those little dry partes which are incorporated with the ouerflowing humide ones in them (for no partes that we can arriue vnto, are of one pure, simple nature; but all are mixed and composed of the 4 Elements in some proportion) must be held together with such grosse glew, as the fire may easily penetrate and separate them. And then the humide partes diuided into little atomes do sticke to the lesser ones of the fire: which by their multitude of number and velocity of motion, supplying what they want of them in bulke; do carry them away with them. And thus these phlegmaticke partes fly vp with the fire and are afterwardes congealed into an insipide water: which if it haue any sauour, is, because the first ardent spirits are not totally separated from it; but some few of them remaine in it, and giue

some little life to the whole body of that otherwise flatt liquor.

Now those partes which the fire separateth next from the remaining body, after the firy and watry ones are carryed away, must be such as it can worke vpon; and therefore must abound in humidity. But since they stirre not till the watry ones are gone, it is euident, that they are composed of many dry partes strongly incorporated, and very subtilely mixed with the moist ones; and that both of them are exceeding small, and are so closely and finely knitt together, that the fire hath much adoe to gett betweene them and cutt the thriddes that tye them together: and therefore, they require a very great force of fire to cary them vp. Now the composition of these, sheweth them to be aeriall: and (together with the fire that is mingled with them) they congeale into that consistence which we call oyle.

Lastly, it can not be otherwise but that the fire, in all this while of continuall application to the body it thus anatomiseth, hath hardned and as it were rosted some partes into such greatnesse and drynesse as they will not fly, nor can be carried vp with any moderate heate. But, greate quantity of fire being mingled with the subtiler partes of his baked earth maketh them very pungent, and acrimonious in tast▪ so, that they are of the nature of ordinary salt, and are so called; and by the helpe of water may easily be separated, from the more grosse partes, which then remaine a dead and vselesse earth.

By this discourse it is apparant, that fire hath been the instrument which hath wrought all these partes of an entire body into the formes they are in; for whiles, it carryed away the fiery partes it swelled the watry ones: and whiles it lifted vp them it digested the aeriall partes, and whiles it droue vp the oyles, it baked the earth and salt. Againe, all these retaining for the most part, the proper nature of the substance from whence they are extracted; it is euident, that the substance is not dissolued; (for so, the nature of the whole would be dissolued and quite destroyed, and extinguished in euery part) but that onely some partes containing the whole substance, or rather the nature of the whole substance in them, are separated from other partes that haue likewise the same nature in them.

The third instrument,8 1.153 for the separation and dissolution of bodies, is water. Whose proper matter to worke vpon, is salt. And it serueth to supply what the fire could not performe, which is the separation of the salt from the earth in calcined bodies. All the other partes fire was able to seuer. But in these, he hath so baked the little humidity he hath left in them with their much earth▪ as he can not diuide them any further. And so, though he incorporateth him selfe with them, yet he can carry nothing away with him. If then pure water be putt vpon that chalke, the subtilest dry partes of it, do easily ioyne to the superuenient moysture; and sticking close to it do draw it downe to them; but because they are the lighter, it happeneth to them, as when a man in a boate pulleth the

land to him: that, cometh not to him; but he remoueth himselfe and his boate to it: so, these ascend in the water as they dissolue. And the water, more and more penetrating them, and by addition of its partes, making the humidity which gleweth their earthy partes together greater and greater; doth make a wider and wider separation betweene those little earthy partes. And so imbueth the whole body of the water with thē; into which▪ they are dispersed in little atomes. Those that are of biggest bulke, remaine lowest in the water. And in the same measure as their quantities dissolue into lesse and lesse they ascend higher and higher in the water: till att the length, the water is fully replenished with them, and they are diffused through the whole body of it: whiles the more grosse and heauy earthy partes (hauing nothing in them to make a present combination betweene them and the water) do fall downe to the bottome, and settle vnder the water in dust.

In which because earth alone doth predominate in a very great excesse, we can expect no other vertue to be in it, but that which is proper to meere earth: to witt, drynesse and weight. Which ordinary Alchymistes looke not after: and therefore call it Terra damnata: but others, find a fixing quality in it, by which they performe very admirable operations. Now if you powre the impregnated water from the Terra damnata, and then euaporate it; you will find a pure white substance remaining. Which by its bulke, sheweth it selfe to be very earthy; and by its pricking, and corrosiue tast, will informe you much fire is in it, and by its easy dissolution in a moist place, that water had a great share in the production of it. And thus the saltes of bodies are made and extracted.

9 1.154Now as water doth dissolue salt, so by the incorporation and vertue of that corrosiue substance it doth more then salt it selfe can doe: for hauing gotten acrimony, and more weight by the mixture and dissolution of salt in it, it maketh it selfe a way into solide bodies, euen into mettals; as we see in brasse and iron; which are easily rusted by salt dissoluing vpon them. And according as the saltes are stronger, so this corrosiue vertue encreaseth in them, euen so much, as neyther syluer nor gold, are free from their eating quality. But they, as well as the rest, are diuided into most small partes, and are made to swimme in water, in such sort as we haue explicated aboue, and whereof euery ordinary Alchymist teacheth the practise.

But this is not all; salts do helpe as well to melt hard bodies and mettalls, as to corrode them: for some fusible salts flowing vpon them by the heate of the fire, and others dissolued by the streame of the mettall that incorporateth with them; as soone as they are in fluxe, they mingle with the naturall iuice of the mettall, and penetrate them deeper, then without them the fire could doe, and swell them and make them fitt to runne.10 1.155

These are the principall wayes of the two last instruments in

dissoluing of bodies; taking each of them by it selfe. But there remaineth one more of very great importance, as well in the workes of nature as of art; in which, both the former are ioyned and do concure: and that is putrefraction. Whose way of working is by gentle heate and moisture to wett and pierce the body it worketh vpon▪ whereby, it is made to swell: and the hoat partes of it, being loosened▪ they are att length druncke vp and drowned in the moist ones (from whence, by fire they are easily separated as we haue already declared▪) and those moist partes, afterwardes leauing it, the substance remaineth dry, and falleth in pieces, for want of the glew that held it together.

THE SIXTEENTH CHAPTER. An explication of certaine Maximes touching the operations, and qualities af bodies: and whether the Elements be found pure in any part of the world.

OVt of what we haue determined,1 1.156 concerning the naturall actions of bodies, in their making and destroying one an other; it is easy to vnderstand the right meaning of some termes, and the true reason of some maximes much vsed in the schooles. As first; when Philosophers attribute vnto all sortes of corporeall Agents, a Sphere of Actiuity. The sense of that manner of expression, in fire appeareth plainely, by what we haue already declared of the nature and manner of operation of that Element.

And in like manner, if we consider how the force of cold consisteth in a compression of the body that is made cold, we may preceiue that if in the cooled body there be any subtile partes which can breake forth from the rest, such compression will make them do so. Especially if the compression be of little partes of the compressed body within themselues, as well as of the outward bulke of the whole body round about: for at first the compression of such causeth in the body, where they are, little holes or pores in the places they are compressed and driuen from; which pores, they filled vp when they were dilated att their owne naturall liberty. But being thus forcibly shrunke vp into lesse roome, afterwardes, they squeese againe out of their croude all such very loose and subtile partes (residing till then with them) as can find their way out from among them. And these subtile partes, that thus are deliuered from the colds compression, gett first into the pores that we haue shewed were made by this compression. But they can not long stay there; for the atomes of aduenient cold that obsesse the compressed body, do likewise with all their force, throng into those pores, and soone driue out the subtile guestes they find there, because they are more in number, bigger in bulke, and more violent in their course then they. Who

therefore must yield vnto them the little channels, and capacities they formerly tooke vp. Out of which they are thrust with such an impetuosity, that they spinne from them with a vehemence, as quickesiluer doth through leather, when to purify it, or to bring an Amalgame to a due consistence, it is strained through the sides of it.

Now these shoures or streames of atomes issuing from the compressed body, are on all sides round about it att exceeding little distances; because the pores, out of which they are driuen, are so likewise. And consequently there they remaine round about besieging it, as though they would returne to their originall homes, as soone as the vsurping strāgers that were too powerfull for thē, will giue thē leaue. And according to the multitude of thē, and to the force with which they are driuen out; the compasse they take vp round about the cōpressed body, is greater or lesser. Which besieging atomes are not so soone carried away by any exterior and accidentall causes, but they are supplyed by new emanations succeeding them out of the said compressed body.

Now this which we haue declared by the example of cold cōpressing a particular body, happeneth in all bodies wheresoeuer they be in the world▪ for this being the vnauoydable effect of heate and of cold, where∣soeuer they reside; (which are the actiue qualities, by whose meanes not onely fire and water and the other two Elements; but all other mixed bodies composed of the Elements, haue their actiuity) and they being in all bodies whatsoeuer (as we haue proued aboue) it followeth euidently, that there is not a body in the world, but hath about it selfe an orbe of emanations of the same nature which that body is of. Within the compasse of which orbe, when any other body cometh that receiueth an immutation by the little atomes whereof that orbe is composed, the aduenient body seemeth to be affected and as it were replenished with the qualities of the body from whence they issue. Which is then said to worke vpon the body that imbibeth the emanations that flow from it. And because this orbe (regularly speaking) is in the forme of a sphere, the passiue body is said to be within the sphere of the others actiuity.

Secondly; when Philosophers pronounce, that No corporeall nature can operari in distans; that is, that no body can worke vpon an other remote from it,2 1.157 without working first vpon the body that lyeth betweene them, which must continue and piece vp the operation from the Agent to the patient. The reason and truth of this maxime is in our Philosophy euident; for we hauing shewed that action among bodies is performed for the most part, by the emission of little partes out of one body into an other: as also, that such little partes can not streame from the body that is their fountaine, and settle vpon a remote body, without passing through the interiacent bodies; which must furnish them, as it were, with channels and pipes to conuey them whither they are to goe; It followeth manifestly, that the actiue emissaries of the working body, can neuer reach their distant marke, vnlesse they be

successiuely ferryed ouer the medium, that lyeth betweene them; in which, they must needes leaue impressions of their hauing beene there, and so worke vpon it in their passage, and leaue in it their qualities and complexions; as a payment for their waftage ouer.

But peraduenture some may contend,3 1.158 that these inuisible serieants and workmen are too feeble and impotent to performe those visible great effects we dayly see. As when fire att the length burneth a board that hath beene a great while opposed to it, though it touch not the body of the fire; or when a loadestone draweth vnto it a great weight of iron that is distant from it.

Vnto whom we shall reply, that if he will not grant these subtile emanations from the agent body, to be the immediate workers of these effects; he must allott that efficacy vnto the whole corpulency of all the Agent working in bulke (for besides the whole, and the partes there is no third thing to be considered in bodies; since they are constituted by quantity;) but the whole, can not worke otherwise then by locall motion: which in this case it can not doe, because by the supposition, it is determined to keepe its distance from the passiue body, and not to moue towardes it. Therefore, this is impossible; whereas the other can appeare but difficult att the worst, and therefore must be admitted, when no better and more intelligible solution can be found.

But withall we must note that it is not our intention to say, but that it may in some circumstances happen that some particular action or effect may be wrought in a remote part or body, which shall not be the same in the intermediate body that lyeth between the Agent and the patient, and that conueyeth the Agents working atomes to the others body. As for example when tinder or Naphtha is by fire made to burne att a yarde distance from it, when the interiacent ayre is but warmed by that fire. Or when the sunne, by meanes of a burning glasse or of some other reflexion, setteth some bodies on fire, and yet onely enlighteneth the glasse and the ayre that are in the way. The reason of which is manifest to be the diuers dispositions of the different subiects in regard of the Agent: and therefore it is no wonder that diuers effects should be produced according to those diuers dispositions.

A third position among Philosophers is,4 1.159 that all bodies which worke vpon others, do likewise at the same time, wherein they worke; suffer from those they worke vpon: and contrariwise that all bodies which suffer from others, do att the same time worke backe againe vpon them. For the better vnderstanding whereof, lett vs consider that all action among bodies is eyther purely locall motion, or else locall motion with certaine particularities which giue it a particular name. As when we expresse the locall motion of little atomes of fire, or of earth, or water vpon and into other bodies by the wordes of heating or cooling; and so of the like. Now if the action be pure locall motion, and consequently the effect produced by that action▪ be meerely change of

place; we must call to mind how two dense bodies mouing one against the other, do each of them beare before them some little quantity of a rarer body immediately ioyned vnto them: and consequently, these more rare bodies must be the first to feele the power of the dense bodies and to receiue impressions from their motions; each of them, by the opposite rare body, which like an huissier goeth before to make way for his following master that obligeth him to this seruice.

Now when these rare•• vshers haue struggled a while like the first lightly armed rankes of two armies in the interiacent field between their maine battalies, that follow them close att the heeles; they must att the length yield, when they are ouerborne by a greater weight then they can sustaine; and then they recoyle backe, as it were to saue themselues by getting in among the files of the dense bodies that droue them on; which not opening to admitt them, and yet they still flying violently from the mastering force that pursueth them; they presse so hard vpon what att the first pressed them on, as notwithstanding their density and strength they force them to retire backe: for vnlesse they do so, they are not of the number of those that worke vpon one an other.

And this retiring, is eyther on both sides, or but of one side. If both; then it is euident how each of them is an Agent, and each of them a sufferer; each of them ouercoming his opposite in such sort, as himselfe likewise receiueth blowes and losse. But if onely one of the dense bodies be so shocked as to recoyle backe, then that onely suffereth in its body, and the other suffereth onely in its vertue; that is, in the ayre or other rare body it sendeth before it; which it driueth with such a violence, that it mastereth and quelleth the opposition of the other body, before it can reach to shake the dense body, before which it runneth. Yet that rare body must be pressed and broken into, in some measure, by the encounter of the other (which though neuer so weake yet maketh some resistance) but much more when it cometh to grapple with the dense body it selfe: and so between them, it is wounded and enfeebled, like those souldiers that first enter a breach in a owne; from whence when they haue driuen the enemy, they pursue him to the cittadell, and force him from thence too: and so how maymed soeuer they proue, they make a free and easy way without resistance for the whole body of their army to follow them, and take quiett possession of that which did cost them so much to winne.

And thus we see how it may happen that one of these mouing bodies doth not suffer so much as to be stayed in its iourney; much lesse, to be driuen backe. And yet the other body att the same time worke in some measure vpon it, by working vpon what is next to it; which recoyling against it must needes make some impression vpon it, since there can be no opposition but must haue some effect. Now this impression or effect, though it be not perceptible by causing a contrary motion, yet it must needes enfeeble the vertue of the conquering

Agent, and deaden the celerity of its motion. And thus it is euident, that in all pure locall motions of corporeall Agents, euery one of them must in some proportion suffer in acting, and in suffering must act.

And what we haue said of this kind of action,5 1.160 may easily be applyed to the other where the effect of locall motion is designed by a particular name, as it is in the exāples we gaue of heating and cooling. And in that, the proceeding will appeare to be the very same as in this; for if fire doth heate water, the water reacteth againe, eyther vpō the fire and cooleth it, if it be immediate vnto it; or else vpon the interiacent ayre, if it be att a distance from the fire. And so the ayre is, in some measure cooled, by the cold atomes that issue from the water, whose compasse or sphere of actiuity being lesser then the fires, they can not coole so farre off, as the others can heate: but where they do arriue, they giue their proportion of cold, in the very middest of the others army of fiery atomes, notwithstanding their multitude and violence.

According to which doctrine, our countryman Suisseth his argument, that in the schooles is held insoluble, hath not so much as any semblance of the least difficulty: for it is euident that such atomes of fire and of water as we determine heate and cold to be, may passe and croude by one an other into the subiects they are sent vnto by diuers little streames without hindering one an other (as we haue declared of ayre and light) and each of them be receiued in their owne nature and temper by the same subiect; though sense can iudge onely according to which of them is predominant, and according to the proportion of its superiority.

Vpon which occasion we can not choose but note, how the doctrine of qualities is not onely vnable to giue account of the ordinary and plaine effects of nature; but also vseth to end in cleere impossibilities and contradictions if it be driuen farre: as this argument of Suisseth sheweth, and many others of the like nature.

A fourth position among Philosophers is,6 1.161 that some notions do admitt the denominations of Intension and Remission, but that others do not. The reason of which we shall cleerely see, if we but consider how these termes of intension and remission, do but expresse more or lesse, of the thing that is said to be intended or remitted: for the nature of more and lesse, doth imply a latitude and diuisibility; and therefore can not agree with the nature of such thinges as consist in an indiuisible being. As for example to be a whole, or to be an equall, can not be sometimes more, sometimes lesse; for they consist in such a rigorous indiuisible being, that if the least part imaginable be wanting it is no longer a whole, and if there be the least excesse between two thinges, they are no longer equall, but are in some other proportion then of equality in regard of one an other.

And hence it is that Aristotle teacheth vs that substance and the species of Quantity, do not admitt of intension and remission; but that Quality doth. For first in substance, we know that the signification of this word

is, that which maketh a thing be what it is, as is euident by our giuing it for an answere to the question what a thing is. And therefore, if there were any diuisibility in substance, it would be in what the thing is; and consequently, euery diuision following that diuisibility, would make the thing an other what, that is an other thing. And so the substance that is pretended to be changed by intension or remission, would not be diuided, as is supposed, but would cease to be, and an other substance would succeede in the roome of it. Whereby you see that euery mutation in substance, maketh a new thing: and that more and lesse in Quiddity can not be pronounced of the same thing.

Likewise in Quantity, it is cleere that its Specieses do consist in an indiuisible: for as in numbers, tenne lions (for example) or tenne Elephants are no more in regard of multitude then tenne fleas or tenne moates in the sunne; and if you adde or take any thing from tenne, it is no more tenne, but some other number: so likewise in continued extension, a spanne, an elle, an ounce, or any other measure whatsoeuer, ceaseth to be a spanne and the rest, if you adde to it or diminish from it the least quantity imaginable. And peraduenture, the same is also of figures, as of a sphere, a cube, a circle, a square, &c. though they be in the ranke of Qualities.

But if we consider such qualities as heat, cold, moysture, drynesse, softnesse, hardnesse, weight, lightnesse, and the like▪ we shall find that they may be in any body sometimes more, sometimes lesse, (according as the excesse of any Element or mixture is greater in it, att one time then att an other) and yet the body in which these qualities are intended or remitted, remaine still with the same denomination. As when durt continueth still softe, though sometimes it be lesse softe, other whiles softer; and waxe remaineth figurable, whether it be melted or congealed; and wood is still hoat though it loose or gaine some degree of heate.

But such intension in any subiect whatsoeuer hath its determinate limits that it can not passe; for when more of that quality that we say is intended (that is, more of the atomes of the actiue body) is brought into the body that suffereth the intension, then its complexion can brooke; it resigneth its nature to their violence and becometh a new thing; such an one as they are pleased to make it. As when wood, with extremity of heating (that is, with bringing into it so many atomes of fire, that the fire is stronger in it then its owne nature) is conuerted into fire, smoake, water, and ashes; and nothing remaineth of the nature of wood.

7 1.162But before we end this chapter, we may remember how in the close of the fourth we remitted a question concerning the existence of the Elements; (that is; whether in any places of the world there were any pure Elements, eyther in bulke or in little partes;) as being not ready to resolue it, till we had declared the manner of working of bodies one vpon an other. Here then will be a fitt place to determine that, out of what we haue discoursed concerning the actions, whereby bodies are

made and corrupted: for considering the vniuersall action of fire that runneth through all the bodies we haue commerce withall, by reason of the sunnes influence into them and operation vpon them with his light and beames which reacheth farre and neere; and looking vpon the effects which we haue shewed do follow thence: it is manifest, there can not be any great quantity of any body whatsoeuer, in which fire is not intrinsecally mixed. And on the other side, we see that where fire is once mixed it is very hard to seperate it totally from thence. Againe we see it is impossible that pure fire should be conserued, without being adioyned to some other body; both because of its violent natiuity, still streaming forth with a great impetuosity; as also, because it is so easily ouercome by any obsident body when it is dilated. And therefore we may safely conclude that no simple Element can consist in any great quantity in this course of nature which we liue in and take a suruay of. Neyther doth it appeare to what purpose nature should haue placed any such storehouses of simples, seeing she can make all needefull complexions by the dissolutions of mixed bodies into other mixed bodies sauouring of the nature of the Elements, without needing their purity to beginne vpon.

But on the other side, it is as euident that the Elements must remaine pure in euery compounded body in such extreme small partes as we vse to call atomes: for if they did not, the variety of bodies would be nothing else, but so many degrees of rarity and density, or so many pure homogeneall Elements, and not bodies composed of heterogeneall partes: and consequently, would not be able to shew that variety of partes which we see in bodies, nor could produce the complicated effects which proceede from them. And accordingly we are sure that the least partes which our senses can arriue to discouer haue many varieties in them: euen so much that a whole liuing creature (whose organicall partes must needes be of exceeding different natures) may be so litle, as vnto our eyes to seeme indiuisible; we not distinguishing any difference of partes in it without the helpe of a multiplying glasse: as in the least kind of mites, and in wormes picked out of Childrens handes we dayly experience. So as it is euident that no sensible part can be vnmingled. But then againe, when we call to mind how we haue shewed that the qualities which we find in bodies do result out of the composition, and mixtion of the Elements, we must needes conclude that they must of necessity remaine in their owne essences in the mixed body. And so out of the whole discourse, determine that they are not there in any visible quantity, but in those least atomes, that are too subtile for our senses to discerne. Which position we do not vnderstand so Metaphysically as to say that their substantiall formes remaine actually in the mixed body; but onely, that their accidentall qualities are found in the compound; remitting that other question vnto Metaphysicians (those spirituall Anatomistes) to decide.

THE SEVENTEENTH CHAPTER. Of Rarefaction and Condensation the two first motions of particular bodies.

1 1.163OVr intention in this discourse, concerning the natures and motions of bodies, ayming no further then att the discouery of what is or may be done by corporeall Agents; thereby to determine what is the worke of immateriall and spirituall substances; it can not be expected att our handes that we should deliuer here an entire and complete body of naturall Philosophy. But onely that we should take so much of it in our way, as is needfull to carry vs with truth and euidence to our iourneys end. It belongeth not then to vs to meddle with those sublime contemplations which search into the nature of the vast Vniuerse, and that determine the vnity and limitation of it; and that shew by what stringes, and vpon what pinnes, and wheeles, and hinges, the whole world moueth: and that from thence do ascend vnto an awfull acknowledgment and humble admiration of the primary cause; from whence, and of which, both the being of it, and the beginning of the first motion, and the continuance of all others doth proceed and depend.

Nor in deede would it be to the purpose for anyman to sayle in this Ocean, and to beginne a new voyage of nauigation vpon it: vnlesse he were assured, he had ballast enough in his shippe to make her sinke deepe into the water and to carry her steadily through those vnruly waues; and that he were furnished with skill and prouision sufficient to go through, without eyther loosing his course by steering after a wrong compasse, or being forced backe againe with shorte and obscure relations of discoueries: since others that went out before him, are returned with a large account to such as are able to vnderstand and summe it vp. Which surely our learned countryman,* 1.164 and my best and most honoured frend, and to whom of all men liuing I am most obliged (for to him I owe that litle which I know; and what I haue, and shall sett downe in all this discourse, is but a few sparkes kindled by me att his greate fire) hath both profoundly, and acutely, and in euery regard iudiciously performed in his Dialogues of the world.

Our taske then (in a lower straine; and more proportionate to so weake shoulders) is to looke no further then among those bodies we conuerse withall. Of which, hauing declared by what course and engines nature gouerneth their common motions, that are found euen in the Elements, and from thence are deriued to all bodies composed of them; we intend now to consider such motions as accompany diuers particular

bodies, and are much admired by whosoeuer vnderstandeth not the causes of them.

To beginne from the easiest and most connexed with the actions of the Elements,2 1.165 the handsell of our labour will light vpon the motions of Rarefaction and Condensation, as they are the passions of mixed bodies. And first for Rarefaction; we may remember how it proceedeth originally from fire, and dependeth of heate; as is declared in the former chapter: and wheresoeuer we find Rarefaction, we may be confident the body which suffereth it, is not without fire working vpon it. From hence we may gather, that when the ayre imprisoned in a baloone or bladder, swelleth against what cōtaineth it; and stretcheth its case, and seeketh to breake out; this effect must proceed from fire or heate (though we see not the fire) working eyther within the very bowels of the ayre; or without, by pressing vpon what containeth it, and so making it selfe a way vnto it.

And that this latter way is able to worke this effect; may be conuinced by the contrary effect from a contrary cause: for take a bladder stretched out vnto its greatest extent by ayre shutt vp within it; and hang it in a cold place; and you will see it presently contract it selfe into a lesse roome; and the bladder will grow wrinckeled and become too bigge for the ayre within it. But for immediate proofe of this position, we see that the addition of a very small degree of heate, rarifyeth the ayre in a weather glasse, (the ayre receiuing the impression of heate, sooner then water) and so maketh it extend it selfe into a greater place; and consequently, it presseth vpon the water; and forceth it downe into a lesse roome then formerly it possessed. And likewise we see quickesyluer and other liquors, if they be shutt vp in glasses close stopped and sett in sufficient heate (and a little is sufficient for this effect) they will swell and fill their glasses; and att the last breake them, rather then not find a way to giue themselues more roome; which is then growne too straight in the glasse, by reason of the rarefaction of the liquors by the fire working vpon them.

Now againe; that this effect may be wrought by the inward heate, that is enclosed in the bowels of the substance thus shutt vp; both reason, and experience do assure vs: for, they teach vs that if a body which is not extremely compacted, but that by its loosenesse is easily diuisible into little partes (such a one as wine, or other spirittfull liquors) be enclosed in a vessell; the little atomes that perpetually moue vp and downe in euery space of the whole world, making their way through euery body, will sett on worke the little partes, in the wine for example, to play their game: so that the hoat and light partes (if they be many) not enduring to be compressed and kept in by the heauy and cold ones, do seeke to breake out with force; and till they can free themselues from the dense ones that would imprison them they carry them along with them, and make them to swell out as well as themselues.

Now if they be kept in by the vessell, so that they haue not play

enough; they driue the dense ones (like so many little hammers or wedges) against the sides of it, and att the length do breake it, and so do make themselues way, to a larger roome. But if they haue vent; the more fiery hoat spirits fly away, and leaue the other grosser partes quiett and att rest. On the other side if the hoat and light partes in a liquor be not many nor very actiue, and the vessell be so full that the partes haue not free scope to remoue and make way for one an other, there will not follow any great effect in this kind: as we see in bottled beere or ale, that worketh little, vnlesse there be some space left empty, in the bottle. And againe; if the vessell be very much too bigge for the liquor in it, the fiery partes find roome, first to swell vp the heauy ones; and att the length to gett out from them, though the vessell be close stopped; for they haue scope enough to floate vp and downe between the surface of the liquor, and the roofe of the vessell.

And this is the reason that if a little beere or small wine be left long in a great caske, be it neuer so close stopped, it will in time grow dead. And then, if att the opening of the bunge (after the caske hath beene long vnstirred) you hold a candle close to it, you shall att the instant see a flash of flame enuironing the ve••t. Which is no other thing, but the subtile spirits that parting from the beere or wine, haue left it dead; and flying abroad as soone as they are permitted, are sett on fire by the flame that they meete with in their iourney, as being more combustible (because more subtile) then that spiritt of wine which is kept in forme of liquor: and yet that likewise (though much grosser) is sett on fire by the touch of flame. And this happeneth not onely to wine, and beere, or ale, but euen to water. As dayly experience sheweth in the east Indian shippes, that hauing beene 5. or 6. yeares att sea, when they open some of their caskes of Thames water in their returne homewardes (for they keepe that water till the last; as being their best and most durable; and that groweth lighter and purer, by the often putrifyinges through violent motions in stormes, euery one of which maketh new grosse and earthy partes fall downe to the bottome, and other volatile ones ascend to the toppe;) a flame is seene about their bunges if a candle be neere, as we said before of wine.

And to proceed, with confirming this doctrine by further experience; we dayly see that the little partes of heate being agitated and brought into motiō in any body; they enter and pierce into other partes, and incorporate themselues with them, and sett them on fire if they be capable thereof: as we see in wett hay or flaxe layed together in great quantity. And if they be not capable of taking fire, then they carry them with them to the outside; and when they can transport them no further, part flyeth away, and other part stayeth with them: as we see in new beere or ale, and in must of wine; in which, a substance vsually called the mother, is wrought vp to the toppe.

Which in wine, will att the last be conuerted into Tartar; when the

spirits that are very volatile, are flowne away; and do leaue those partes from whence they haue euaporated, more grosse and earthy then the others, where the grosser and subtiler partes continue still mixed. But in beere or rather in ale; this mother, which in them we call barme, will continue longer in the same consistence, and with the same qualities; for the spirits of it are not so firy that they must presently leaue the body they haue incorporated themselues withall; nor are hoat enough to bake it into a hard consistence. And therefore, bakers make vse of it to raise their bread; which neyther it will do, vnlesse it be kept from cold; both which, are euident signes that it worketh in force of heate; and consequently, that it continueth still a hoat and light substance.

And againe we see that after wine or beere hath wrought once, a violent motion will make it worke anew. As is dayly seene in great lightninges and in thunder, and by much rocking of them; for such motion rarifyeth, and consequently heateth them: partly by separating the little partes of the liquor, which were before as glewed together, and therefore lay quietly; but now, by their pulling asunder, and by the liquors growing thereby more loose then it was, they haue freedome to play vp and downe: and partly by beating one part against an other; which breaketh and diuideth them into lesser atomes, and so bringeth some of them into the state of fire; which you may remember, is nothing else but a body brought into such a degree of littlenesse and rarity of its partes.

And this is the reason why such hard and dry bodies as haue an vnctuous substance in them, are by motion eyther easily sett on fire, or att the least, fire is easily gotten out of them. As happeneth in flintes, and in diuers other stones, which yield fire when they are strucken; and if presently after you smell vnto them, you shall perceiue an odour of brimstone and of burning which is a certaine signe that the motion did conuert into fire the naturall brimstone that was mingled with the flint, and whose denser partes were growne cold, and so stucke to the stone. And in like manner, the iuywood and diuers others, as also the Indian canes (which from thence are called firecanes) being rubbed with some other sticke of the same nature; if they be first very dry, will of themselues sett on fire: and the like will happen to coach wheeles in summer if they be ouerheated with motion.

To conclude our discourse of rarefaction,3 1.166 we may looke a little into the power and efficacity of it, which is no where to be seene so clearly as in fire. And as fire is the generall cause of rarefaction, so is it of all bodies, that which is most rarifyed. And therefore it is no maruayle if its effects be the greatest that are in nature, seeing it is the proper operatiō of the most actiue Element. The wonderfull force of it we dayly see in thunder, in gunnes, in granados, and in mines; of which, continuall experience, as well as seuerall historyes wittnesseth litle lesse then miracles. Leauing them to the remarkes of curious Persons, we will

onely looke into the way by which so maine effects do proceed from causes that appeare so slender.

It is euident that fire (as we haue said before) dilateth it selfe spherically; as nature sheweth vs manifestly in bubbles of boyling water, and of mike, and generally of such substances as are of a viscous composition; for those bubbles being round, do assure vs that the cause which made them, did equally dilate them from the center vnto all partes. Now then remembring the infinite multiplication which is in fire, we may conceiue that when a graine of gunnepouder is turned thereinto, there are so many little bubbles of a viscous substance one backing an other with great celerity, as there are partes of fire more then there were of gunnepouder. And if we make a computation of the number and of the celerity of these bubbles; we shall find that although euery one of them single do seeme to be of an inconsiderable force, yet the whole number of them together, will exceed the resistance of the body moued or broken by them: especially, if we note, that when hard substances haue not time allowed them to yield, they break the sooner. And then we shall not so much admire the extremities we see acted by these meanes.

Thus hauing looked into the nature of rarefaction, and traced the progresse of it from the motion of the sunne and fire;4 1.167 in the next place we are to examine the nature of condensation. And we shall oftentimes find it likewise an effect of the same cause otherwise working: for there being two different wayes to dry any wett thing; the one, by taking away that iuice which maketh a body liquid; the other, by putting more drought to the wett body, that it may imbibe the moisture; this latter way doth as well as the former, condense a body: for by the close sticking of wett to dry, the most part of condensation is effected in compounded bodies.

The first of these wayes, doth properly and immediately proceed from heate; for heate entering into a body, incorporateth it selfe with the moist and viscous partes it findeth there: as purging medicines do with the humors they worke vpon▪ which when the stomacke can no longer entertaine (by reason of their vnruly motions in wrestling together) they are both eiected grappling with one an other; and the place of their contention is thus, by the superuenience of a guest of a contrary nature (that will not stay long there) purged from the superaboundance of the former ones that annoyed it. Euen so the fire that is greedily drunke vp by the watry and viscous partes of a compounded body; and whose actiuity and restlesse nature will not endure to be long emprisoned there, quickly pierceth quite through ••he body it entereth into, and after a while streameth out att the opposite side, as fast as it entered on the side next to it, and carryeth away with it those glewy partes it is incorporated with: and by their absence, leaueth the body they part from, dryer then att the first it was.

Which course we may obserue in sirupes that are boyled to a consistence, and in brothes that are consumed vnto a gelly: ouer which, whiles they are making by the fire vnder them, you see a great steame; which is, the watry partes that being incorporated with fire, fly away in smoake. Likewise when the sea water is condensed into salt, you see it is an effect of the sunne or fire that exhaleth or boyleth away all the palpable moisture. And so when wett clothes are hanged eyther in the sunne or att the fire, we see a smoake about the clothes, and heate within them; which being all drawne out from them, they become dry.

And this deserueth a particular note, that although they should be not quite dry, when you take them from the fire; yet by then they are coole, they will be dry: for the fire that is in them when they are remoued from the maine stocke of fire, flying away carryeth with it the moisture that was incorporated with it: and therefore whiles they were hoat, that is, whiles the fire was in them, they must also be moist; because the fire and the moisture were growne to be one body: and could not become through dry with that measure of fire, (for more would haue dryed them, euen whiles they where hoat) vntill they were also growne through cold. And in like manner, sirupes, hydromels, gellies, and the like, grow much thicker after they are taken off from the fire, then they were vpon the fire, and much of their humidity, flyeth away with the fire, in their cooling, whereby they lessen much of their quantity, euen after the outward fire hath ceased from working vpon them.

Now if the moist partes, that remaine after the drying, be by the heate well incorporated in the dry partes; and so do occasion the dry partes to sticke close together; then that body is condensed, and will (to the proportion of it) be heauyer in a lesse bulke; as we see that mettalls are heauyer then stones.

Allthough this effect be in these examples wrought by heate,5 1.168 yet generally speaking it is more proper to cold: which is the second way of drying a moist body. As when in Greeneland, the extreme cold freeseth the whalefishers beere into yce, so that the stewardes diuide it with axes and wedges, and deliuer their portions of drink to their shippes company, and their shallopes gings, in their bare handes: but in the innermost part of the butte, they find some quantity of very strong liquor, not inferior to moderate spiritt of wine. Att the first, before custome had made it familiar vnto them, they wondered that euery time they drew att the tappe, when first it came from their shippes to the shore (for the heate of the hold would not lett it freese) no liquor would come, vnlesse they new tapped it with a longer gimlett: but they thought that paines well recompenced, by finding it in the tast to grow stronger and stronger; till att the last, their longest gimlets would bring nothing out; and yet the vessell not a quarter drawne off; which obliged them then to staue the caske, that so they might make vse of the substance that remained.

The reason of this, is euident: that cold seeking to condense the beere by mingling its dry and cold partes with it, those that would endure this mixture, were imbibed and shrunke vp by them. But the other rare and hoat partes that were squeesed out by the dense ones which entered to congeale the beere, and were forced into the middle of the vessell (which was the furthest part for them to retire vnto, from their enuironing enemies) did conserue themselues in their liquid forme, in defyance of the assaulting cold; whiles their fellowes, remaining by their departure more grosse and earthy then they were before, yielded to the conqueror, they could not shift away from, and so were dryed and condensed into yce: which when the mariners thawed, they found it like faire water, without any spirits in it or comforting heate to the stomacke.

This māner of condensation, which we haue described in the freesing of beere, is the way most practised by nature; I meane, for immediate condensation (for cōdentsation is secondarily, wheresoeuer there is rare∣faction which we haue determined to be an effect of heate.) And the course of it is: that a multitude of earthy and dry bodies being driuen against any liquor, they easily diuide it, by meanes of their density, their drynesse, and their littlenesse (all which in this case do accompany one an other; and are by vs determined to be powerfull diuiders;) and when they are gotten into it, they partly sucke into their owne pores the wett and diffused partes of the liquide body; and partly they make them (when themselues are full) sticke fast to their dry sides, and become as a glew to hold themselues strongly together. And thus they dry vp the liquor; and by the naturall pressing of grauity they contract it into a lesser roome. No otherwise then when we force much wind or water into a bottle; and by pressing it more and more, make it lye closer then of its owne nature it would do. Or rather, as when ashes being mingled with water; both those substances do sticke so close to one an other, that they take vp lesse roome then they did each apart.

This is the methode of frostes, and of snow, and of yce, both naturall and artificcall; for in naturall freesing, ordinarily the north or northeast wind by its force bringeth and driueth into our liquors, such earthy bodies as it hath gathered from rockes couered with snow; which being mixed with the light vapors whereof the wind is made, do easily find way into the liquors, and thē they dry thē into that consistēce which we call yce. Which in token of the wind it hath in it, swimmeth vpon the water, and in the vessel where it is made,, riseth higher then the water did whereof it is cōposed: and ordinarily it breaketh frō the sides of the vessell so giuing way to more wind to come in, and freese deeper and thicker.

6 1.169But because Galileus Nel discorso intorno alle cose che stanno in su l'acqua pag. 4. was of opinion that yce was water rarifyed, and not condensed; we must not passe ouer this verity, without maintaining it against the opposition of so powerfull an aduersary. His arguments are;

first that yce taketh vp more place, then the water did of which it was made; which is against the nature of condensation. Secondly, that quantity for quantity, yce is lighter then water; whereas thinges that are more dense, are proportionally more heauy. And lastly, that yce swimmeth in water, whereas we haue often taught, that the more dense descendeth in the more rare.

Now to reply to these arguments, we say first, that we would gladly know how he did to measure the quantity of the yce, with the quantity of the water of which it was made; and then when he hath shewed it, and shewed withall that yce holdeth more place then water; we must tell him that his experiment concludeth nothing against our doctrine, because there is an addition of other bodies mingled with the water to make yce of it as we touched aboue; and therefore that compound may well take vp a greater place then the water alone did, and yet be denser then it; and the water also be denser, then it was.

And that other bodies do come into the water and are mingled with it, is euident, out of the exceeding coldnesse of the ayre, or some very cold wind; one of which two neuer misseth to raigne whensoeuer the water freeseth: and both of them do argue great store of little earthy dry bodies abounding in them, which sweeping ouer all those that lye in their way and course, must of necessity be mixed with such as giue them admittance; which water doth very easily. And accordingly we see that when in the freesing of water, the yce groweth any thing deepe, it eyther shrinketh about the borders or att the least lyeth very loose; so as we can not doubt but that there is a free passage for more of such subtile bodies to gett still to the water, and freese it deeper.

To his second argument, we aske how he knoweth that yce quantity for quantity, is lighter then water? For although, of a spunge that is full of water, it be easy to know what the spunge weigheth, and what the water, that was soaked into it, because we can part the one of them from the other, and keepe each apart, to examine their weights: yet to do the like between yce and water, if yce be throughout full of ayre (as of necessity it must be) we beleeue impossible. And therefore, it may be lighter in the bulke then water, by reason of the great pores caused in it, through the shrinking vp of the partes of water together (which pores must then necessarily be filled with ayre) and yet euery part by it selfe (in which no ayre is) be heauyer then so much water.

And by this it appeareth that his last argument, (grounded vpon the swimming of yce in water) hath no more force then if he would proue that an iron or an earthen dish, were lighter, and consequently more rare, then water; because it swimmeth vpon it; which is an effect of the ayres being contained in the belly of it (as it is in yce) not a signe of the mettalls being more rare then water.

Whereas on the contrary side, the proofe is positiue and cleare for vs; for it can not be denyed, but that the mingling of the water with other

bodies more dense then it, must of necessity make the compound and also the water it selfe become more dense then it was alone. And accordingly we see, that yce halfe thawed (for then, much of the ayre is driuen out, and the water beginneth to fill the pores wherein the ayre resided before) sinketh to the bottome: as an iron dish with holes in it (whereby the water might gett into it) would do. And besides, we see that water is more diaphanous then yce, and yce more consistent then water. Therefore I hope we shall be excused, if in this particular we be of a contrary opinion to this great personage.

7 1.170But to returne vnto the thridde of our discourse. The same that passeth here before vs; passeth also in the skye with snow, haile, raine, and wind. Which that we may the better vnderstand, lett vs consider how windes are made: for they haue a maine influence into all the rest. When the sunne or by some particular occurrent, rayseth great multitudes of atomes, from some one place; and they eyther by the attraction of the sunne, by some other occasion, do take their course a certaine way; this motion of those atomes we call a wind: which according to the continuance of the matter from whence these atomes rise, endureth a longer or a shorter time, and goeth a farther or a shorter way; like a riuer, or rather, like those eruptions of waters, which in the Notherne partes of England they call Gypsies: the which do breake out att vncertaine times, and vpon vncertaine causes, and flow likewise with an vncertaine duration. So these windes, being composed of bodies in a determinate proportion heauyer then the ayre, do runne their course from their hight to the ground, where they are supported (as water is by the floore of its channell) whiles they performe their carrire; that is, vntill they be wasted, eyther by the drawing of the sunne, or by their sticking and incorporating into grosser bodies.

Some of these windes according to the complexion of the body out of which they are extracted, are dry; as those which come from barren mountaines couered with snow: others are moist; as those that come out of marishy, or watry places: others, haue other qualities; as of heate or cold, of wholesomenesse, or vnwholesomenesse, and the like; partly from the source, and partly frō the bodies they are mingled with in their way.

Such then being the nature and origine of windes; if a cold one do meete in the ayre with that moist body whereof otherwise raine would haue been made, it changeth that moist body into snow or into haile; if a dry wind meete with a wett body it maketh it more dry, and so hindereth the raine that was likely to be: but if the wett body ouercome the dry wind, it bringeth the wind downe along with it; as we see when a shoure of raine allayeth a great wind.

And that all this is so, experience will in some particulars instruct vs as well as reason, from whence the rest may be euidently inferred. For we see that those who in imitation of nature would conuert water into yce, do take snow or yce, and mingle it with some actiue dry body, that may

force the cold partes of the snow from it; and then they sett the water (in some fitt vessell) in the way that those little bodies are to take, which by that meanes entering into it, do straight incorporate themselues therewith, and of a soddaine do conuert it into yce. Which processe you may easily trye, by mingling salt armoniake with the snow; but much more powerfully, by setting the snow ouer the fire, whiles the glasse of water to be congealed standeth in it after the manner of an egg in salt. And thus, fire it selfe, though it be the enemy and destroyer of all cold, is made the instrument of freesing. And the same reason holdeth, in the cooling of wine with snow or yce, when after it hath beene a competent time in the snow, they whose charge it is, do vse to giue the vessell that containeth the wine, three or foure turnes in the snow; so to mingle through the whole body of the wine, the cold receiued first but in the outward partes of it, and by pressing, to make that without, haue a more forcible ingression.

But the whole doctrine of Meteores, is so amply, so ingeniously, and so exactely performed by that neuer enough praysed Gentleman Monsieur Des Cartes in his Meteorologicall discourses; as I should wrong my selfe, and my Reader, if I dwelled any longer vpon this subiect. And whose Physicall discourses, had they beene diuulged before I had entered vpon this worke, I am persuaded would haue excused the greatest part of my paines in deliuering the nature of bodies.

It were a fault to passe from treating of condensation,8 1.171 without noting so ordinary an effect of it as is the ioyning together of partes of the same body, or of diuers bodies. In which we see for the most part that the solide bodies which are to be ioyned together, are first eyther heated or moistened, that is, they are rarifyed: and then they are left to cold ayre, or to other cold bodies, to thicken and condense (as aboue; we mentioned of syrupes and gellies;) and so they are brought to sticke firmely together. In the like manner we see that when two mettalls are heated till they be almost brought to runninge, and then are pressed together by the hammer, they become one continued body. The like we see in glasse, the like in waxe, and in diuers other thinges. On the contrary side; when a broken stone is to be pieced together, the pieces of it must be wetted, and the ciment must be likewise moistened, and then ioyning them aptly, and drying them, they sticke fast together. Glew is moistened, that it may by drying afterwardes, hold pieces of wood together. And the spectaclemakers haue a composition which must be both heated and moistened, to ioyne vnto handles of wood the glasses which they are to grinde. And broken glasses are cimented with cheese and chalke or with garlike.

All these effects our sense euidently sheweth vs, arise out of condēsation; but to our reasō it belōgeth to examine particularly by what steppes they are performed Frst then we know that heate doth subtilise the little bodies which are in the pores of the heated body; and partly

also, it openeth the pores of the body it selfe, if it be of a nature that permitteth it; as it seemeth those bodies are, which by heate are mollifyed or are liquefactible. Againe, we know that moysture is more subtile to enter into small creekes, then dry bodies are; especially when it is pressed; for then it will be diuided into very little partes, and will fill vp euery little chinke; and neuerthesse if it be of a grosse and viscous nature, all the partes of it will sticke together. Out of these two properties we haue, that since euery body hath a kind of orbe of its owne exhalations, or vapors round about it selfe (as is before declared,) the vapors which are about one of the bodies, will more strongly and solidely (that is in more aboundant and greater partes) enter into the pores of the other body against which it is pressed, when they are opened and dilated: and thus they becoming common to both bodies, by flowing from the one, and streaming into the other, and sticking to them both will make them sticke to one an other. And then as they grow cold and dry, these litle partes shrinke on both sides; and by their shrinking draw the bodies together; and withall, do leaue greater pores by their being compressed together, then were there, when by heate and moysture they were dilated; into which pores the circumstant cold partes do enter, and thereby do as it were wedge in the others; and consequently, do make them hold firmely together the bodies, which they ioyne.

But if art or nature should apply to this iuncture any liquor or vapour, which had the nature and power to insinuate it selfe more efficaciously to one of these bodies, then the glew which was between them did; of necessity, in this case, these bodies must fall in pieces. And so it happeneth in the separation of mettalls by corrosiue waters; as also in the precipitation of mettalls or of saltes when they are dissolued in such corrosiue waters, by meanes of other mettalls or saltes of a different nature: in both which cases the enterance of a latter body that penetrateth more strongly, and vniteth it selfe to one of the ioyned bodies but not to the other, teareth them asunder, and that which the piercing body reiecteth, falleth into little pieces; and if formerly it were ioyned with the liquor, it is then precipitated downe from it in a dust.

9 1.172Out of which discourse we may resolue the question of that learned and ingenious man Petrus Gassendus; who, by experience found, that water impregnated to fullnesse with ordinary salt, would yet receiue a quantity of other salt; and when it would imbibe no more of that, would neuerthelesse take into it a proportion of a third; and so of seuerall kindes of saltes one after an other: which effect, he attributed to vacuites or porous spaces of diuers figures, that he conceiued to be in the water; whereof, some were fitt for the figure of one salt, and some, for the figure of an other. Very ingeniously; yet if I misse not my marke, most assuredly he hath missed his.

For first, how could he attribute diuers sortes of vacuites to water,

without giuing it diuers figures? And this would be against his owne discourse, by which, euery body should haue one determinate naturall figure.

Secondly; I would aske him; if he measured his water after euery salting? And if he did, whether he did not find the quantity greater, then before that salt was dissolued in it? Which if he did (as without doubt he must) then he might safely conclude, that his saltes were not receiued in vacuities; but that the very substance of the water gaue them place, and so encreased by the receiuing of them.

Thirdly, seeing that in his doctrine, euery substance hath a particular figure; we must allow a strange multitude of different shapes of vacuities to be naturally in water; if we will haue euery different substance wherewith it may be impregnated (by making decoctions, extractions, solutions, and the like) to find a fitt vacuity in the water to lodge it selfe in. What a difforme nette with a strāge variety of mashes would this be? And indeed how extremely vncapable must it be of the quantity of euery various kind of vacuity that you will find must be in it; if in euery solution of one particular substance, you calculate the proportion between it and the water that dissolueth it, and then multiply it according to the number of seuerall kindes of substances that may be dissolued in water? By this proceeding, you will find the vacuities to exceed infinitely the whole body of the water; euen so much that it could not afford subtile thriddes enough to hold it selfe together.

Fourthly, if this doctrine were true it would neuer happen that one body or salt should precipitate downe to the bottome of the water, by the solution of an other in it, which euery Alchymist knoweth, neuer fayleth in due circumstances: for seeing that the body which precipitateth, and the other which remayneth dissolued in the water, are of different figures, and therefore do require different vacuities, they might both of them haue kept their places in the water, without thrusting one an other out of it.

Lastly, this doctrine giueth no account why one part of salt is separated from an other by being putt in the water, and why the partes are there kept so separated, which is the whole effect of that motion which we call dissolution.

The true reason therefore of this effect,10 1.173 is (as I conceiue) that one salt maketh the water apt to receiue an other; for the lighter salt being incorporated with the water, maketh the water more proper to sticke vnto an heauyer, and by diuiding the small partes of it to beare them vp, that otherwise would haue sunke in it. The truth and reason of which will appeare more plaine, if att euery ioynt, we obserue the particular steppes of euery saltes solution. As soone as you putt the first salt into the water, it falleth downe presently to the bottome of it; and as the water doth by its humidity pierce by degrees the little ioyntes of this salt, so the small partes of it are by little and little separated from one an other, and

vnited to partes of water. And so infusing more and more salt, this progresse will continue, vntill euery part of water is incorporated with some part of salt: and then, the water can no longer worke of it selfe but in coniunction to the salt with which it is vnited. After which, if more salt of the same kind be putt into the water; that water so impregnated, will not be able to diuide it; because it hath not any so subtile partes left, as are able to enter between the ioyntes of a salt so closely compacted: but may be compared to that salt, as a thing of equall drynesse with it; and therefore is vnapt to moysten and to pierce it.

But if you putt vnto this compound of salt and water, an other kind of salt that is of a stronger and a dryer nature then the former, and whose partes are more grossely vnited; then the first salt dissolued in the water, will be able to gett in betwixt the ioyntes of the grosser salt, and will diuide it into little partes; and will incorporate his already composed partes of salt and water, into a decompound of two saltes and water; vntill all his partes be anew impregnated with the second grosser salt; as before, the pure water was with the first subtiler salt. And so it will proceed on, if proportionate bodies be ioyned, vntill the dissoluing composition do grow into a thicke body.

Vnto which discourse we may adde, that when the water is so fully impregnated with the first salt, as it will receiue no more, remayning in the temper it is in; yet if it be heated, it will then afresh dissolue more of the same kind. Which sheweth, that the reason of its giuing ouer to dissolue, is for want of hauing the water diuided into partes little enough to sticke vnto more salt: which, as in this case the fire doth; so peraduenture in the other, the acrimoniousnesse of the salt doth it.

11 1.174And this is sufficient to giue curious wittes occasion by making further experiments, to search out the truth of this matter. Onely we may note what happeneth in most of the experiencies we haue mentioned; to witt that thinges of the same nature do ioyne better and more easily then others that are more estranged from one an other. Which is very agreeable to reason; seeing that if nature do intend to haue thinges consist long together, she must fitt them for such consistence.

Which seemeth to proceed out of their agreement in foure qualities: first, in weight for bobies of diuers degrees in weight, if they be att liberty, do seeke diuers places; and consequently, substances of like weight, must of necessity find one an other out, and croud together; as we haue shewed, it is the natute of heate to make them do: now it is apparent that thinges of one nature, must in equall partes haue the same or a neere proportion of weight, seeing that in their composition, they must haue the same proportion of Elements.

The second reason of the consistence of bodies together, that are of the same nature is, the agreement of their liquid partes, in the same degree of rarity and density: for as it is the nature of quantity in common to

make all partes be one quantity; so it is the nature of the degrees of quantity, when two partes do meete that are of the same degree, to make them one in that degree of quantity; which is, to make them stick together in that degree of sticking, which the degree of density that is common to them both, maketh of its owne nature. Whereas, partes of different densities, can not haue this reason of sticking: though, peraduenture they may vpon some other ground, haue some more efficacious one. And in this manner, the like humide partes of two bodies, becoming one, the holes or receptacles in which those humide partes are contained must also needes be vnited.

The third reason is the agreeable proportion, which their seuerall figures haue in respect of one an other: for if any humidity be extracted out of a mixed body, especially, by the vertue of fire; it must haue left pores of such figures, as the humidity that is drawne out of them▪ is apt to be cutt into (for euery humide body not being absolutely humide, but hauing certaine dry partes mixed with it, is more apt for one kind of figure and greatnesse, then for an other;) and by consequence, whensoeuer that humidity shall meete againe with the body it was seuered from; it will easily runne through and into it all, and will fill exactly the cauities and pores it possessed before.

The last quality, in which bodies that are to consist long together, do agree, is the biggnesse of the humide and dry partes of the same body: for if the humide partes be too bigge for the dry ones, it is cleare that the dry ones must needes hang loosely together by them; because their glew is in too greate a quantity. But if the humide partes bee too little for the dry ones, then of necessity some portion of euery little dry part must be vnfurnished of glew, by meanes whereof to sticke vnto his fellow: and so the sticking partes not being conueniently proportioned to one an other, their adhesion can not be so solide as if each of them were exactly fitted to his fellow.

THE EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER. Of an other motion belonging to particular bodies, called Attraction; and of certaine operations, termed Magicall.

HAuing thus ended the two motions of rarefaction and of condensation;1 1.175 the next that offer themselues, are the locall motions which some bodies haue vnto others. These are sometimes performed by a plaine force in the body towardes which the motion is: and other whiles, by a hidden cause, which is not so easily discerned. The first, is chiefely that which is ordinarily said to be done by the force of nature to hinder Vacuum, and is much practised by nature; as in drawing our breath, in sucking, and in many other naturall

operations, which are imitated by art in making of pumpes; syphons, and such other instruments; and in that admirable experiment of taking vp a heauy marble stone meerely by an other lying flatt and smoothly vpon it, without any other connexion of the two stones together; as also by that sport of boyes, when they spread a thinne moystned leather vpon a smooth broad stone, and presse it all ouer close to it, and then by pulling of a string fastened att the middle of the leather, they draw vp likewise the heauy stone. In all which, the first cause of the motion, proceedeth from that body towardes which the motion is made. And therefore, is properly called Attraction.

For the better vnderstanding and declaring of which, lett vs suppose two marble stones, very broad and exceeding smoothly polished, to be laid one flatt vpon the other: and lett there be a ring fastened att the backe part of the vppermost stone; and exactly in the middle of it. Then, by that ring, pull it vp perpendicularly and steadily, and the vndermost will follow sticking fast to the ouermost; and though they were not very perfectly polished, yet the nethermost would follow for a while, if the ring be suddainely plucked vp; but then it will soone fall downe againe. Now this plainely sheweth that the cause of their sticking so strongly together, when both the stones are very well polished, is for that nothing can well enter between them to part them; and so, it is reduced to the shortnesse of the ayre that is betwixt them: which not being capable of so great an expansion, nor admitting to be diuided thickewayes so much as is necessary to fill the first growing distance, between the two stones till new ayre findeth a course thither, (that so, the swelling of the one, may hinder vacuity, till the other come in to the rescue;) the two stones must needes sticke together to certaine limits; which limits will depend of the proportion that is between the weight, and the continuity of the nethermost stone.

2 1.176And when we haue examined this, we shall vnderstand in what sense it is meaned that Nature abhorreth from Vacuity, and what meanes she vseth to auoyde it. For, to putt it as an enemy that nature fighteth against; or to discourse of effects that would follow from it, in case it were admitted, is a great mistake, and a lost labour; seeing it is nothing; and therefore, can do nothing: but is meerely a forme of expression to declare in short nothing else but that it is a contradiction, or implication in termes, and an impossibility in nature, for vacuity to haue, or to be supposed to haue a Being.

Thus then, since in our case, after we haue cast all about, we can pitch vpon nothing to be considered, but that the two stones do touch one an other, and that they are weighty; we must apply our selues onely to reflect vpon the effects proceeding from these two causes, their contiguity and their heauynesse; and we shall find that as the one of them, namely the weight hindereth the vndermost from following the vppermost, so, contiguity obligeth it vnto that course; and according as

the one ouercometh the other, so will this action be continued or interrupted.

Now that contiguity of substances do make one follow an other, is euident by what our Masters in Metaphysickes teach vs; when they shew that without this effect no motion att all could be made in the world, nor no reason could be giuen, for those motions we dayly see. For since the nature of quantity is such, that whensoeuer there is nothing between two partes of it, they must needes touch and adhere and ioyne to one an other, (for how should they be kept asunder when there is nothing betweene them to part them?) if you pull one part away, eyther some new substance must come to de close vnto that which remoueth; or else the other which was formerly close to it, must still be close to it, and so follow it: for if nothing do come between, it is still close to it. Thus then, it being necessary that something must be ioyned close to euery thing; vacuity, (which is nothing) is excluded from hauing any being in nature.

And when we say that one body must follow an other to auoyde vacuity; the meaning is, that vnder the necessity of a contradiction they must follow one an other, and that they can not do otherwise. For it would be a contradiction to say that nothing were between two thinges and yet that they are not ioyned close to one an other. And therefore if you should say it, you would in other wordes say, they are close together, and they are not close together. In like manner, to say that vacuity is any where, is a pure contradiction; for vacuity being nothing, hath no Being att all: and yet by those wordes it is said to be in such a place; so that they affirme it to be and not to be, att the same time.

But now lett vs examine if there be no meanes to auoyde this contradiction and vacuity,3 1.177 other then by the adhesion, and following of one body vpon the motion of an other, that is closely ioyned to it and euery where contiguous. For sense is not easily quieted with such Metaphysicall contemplations, that seeme to repugne against her dictamens; and therefore for her satisfaction we can do no lesse then giue her leaue to range about, and cast all wayes in hope of finding some one that may better content her: which when she findeth that she can not, she will the lesse repine to yield her assent to the rigourous sequeles and proofes of reason.

In this difficulty then, after turning on euery side, I for my part can discerne no pretence of probability, in any other meanes then in pulling downe the lower stone by one corner; that so there may be a gaping between the two stones, to lett in ayre by little and little. And in this case you may say that by the interuention of ayre, vacuity is hindered, aud yett the lower stone is left att liberty to follow its owne naturall inclination, and be gouerned by its weight. But indeed, if you consider the matter well; you will find that the doing this, requireth a much greater force, then to haue the lower stone follow the vpper: for it can

not gape in a straight line, to lett in ayre; since in that position, it must open at the bottome where the angle is made, at the same time that it openeth at the mouth: and then ayre requiring time to passe from the edges to the bottome, it must in the meane while fall into the contradiction of vacuity. So that if it should open to lett in ayre; the stone, to compasse that effect, must bend, in such sort as wood doth when a wedge is putt into it to cleaue it.

Iudge then what force it must be that should make hard marble of a great thicknesse bend like a wand; and whether it would not rather breake and slide off, then do so: you will allow that a much lesse, will raise vp the lower stone together with the vppermost. It must then of necessity fall out, that it will follow it, if it be moued perpendicularly vpwardes. And the like effect will be though, it should be raysed at oblique angles, so that the lowermost edge do rest all the way vpon some thing that may hinder the inferior stone from sliding aside from the vppermost.

4 1.178And this is the very case of all those other experiments of art and nature, which we haue mentioned aboue: for the reason holdeth as well in water and in liquide thinges; as in solide bodies; vntill the weight of the liquide body ouercometh the continuity of it: for then, the thridde breaketh, and it will ascend no higher.

Which height, Galileo telleth vs from the workmen in the Arsenall of Venice, is neere 40. foote; if the water be drawne vp in a close pipe, in which the aduantage of the sides helpeth the ascent. But others say that the inuention is enlarged, and that water may be drawne to what height one pleaseth. Howsoeuer, the force which nature applyeth to maintaine the continuity of quantity, can haue no limitt, seeing it is grounded vpon contradiction. And therefore Galileo was much mistaken, when he throught to make an instrument whereby to discouer the limits of this force.

We may then conclude that the breaking of the water must depend from the strength of other causes. As for example when the grauity is so great by encreasing the bulke of the water, that it will eyther ouercome the strength of the pipe, or else make the sucker of the pumpe rather yield way to ayre, then draw vp so great a weight: for which defects, if remedies be found, the art may surely be enlarged without end.

5 1.179This is particular in a syphon; that when, that arme of it which hangeth out of the water is lower then the superficies of the water; then, it will runne of it selfe; after it is once sett on running by sucking. The reason whereof is, because the weight which is in water pendant, is greater then the weight of the ascending water; and thereby supplyeth the want of a continuall sucker. But if the nose of that arme that hangeth out of the water, be but euen with the water; then the water will stand still in both pipes, or armes of the syphon, after they are filled with sucking. But if by the running out of the water, the outward pipe

do grow shorter then to reach as low as the superficies of the water in the fountaine from whence it runneth; in this case, the water in each arme of the syphon, will runne backe into the fountaine.

Withall, it is to be noted, that though the arme which is out of the water be neuer so long, yet if it reach not lower then the superficies of the fountaine; the ouer quantity and weight of the water there, more then in the other arme, helpeth it nothing to make it runne out. Which is, because the decliuity of the other arme, ouerrecompenceth this ouerweight. Not that the weight in the shorter pipe, hath so much force as the weight in the longer pipe: but because it hath more force then the greater weight doth exercise there in its running; for the greatest part of its force, tendeth an other way then to the end of the pipe; to witt, perpendicularly towardes the center. And so is hindered from effect, by the great sloaping or little decliuity of the pipe vpon which it leaneth.

But some considering how the water that is in the longer arme of the syphon is more in quantity then the water that is in the other arme of it whereat it runneth out,6 1.180 do admire why the greater quantity of water doth not draw backe the lesse into the cisterne, but suffereth it selfe to be lifted vp, and drayned away as if it runne steeply downewardes. And they imagine, that hence may be deduced, that the partes of water in the cisterne doe not weigh as long as they are within the orbe of their owne body.

Vnto when we answere; that they should consider how that to haue the greater quantity of water, which is in the longer arme of the syphon (which arme is immersed in the water of the cisterne) to draw backe into the cisterne the water which is in the other arme of the syphon that hangeth out in the ayre; it must, both raise as much of the water of the cisterne as its owne bulke is, aboue the leuell which att present the whole bulke of water hath; and withall it must att the same time pull vp the water which is in the other arme. Now it is manifest, that these two quantities of water together, are heauyer then the water in the sunke arme of the syphon; since one of them single, is equall vnto it. And by consequence, the more water in the sunke arme, can not weigh backe the lesse water in the hanging arme; since that, to do that, it must att the same time weigh vp ouer and aboue, as much more in the cisterne as it selfe weigheth.

But turning the argument; I say, that if once the arme of the syphon that is in the ayre, be supposed to draw any water, be it neuer so little, out of the cisterne (whether occasioned by sucking or by whatsoeuer other meanes) it followeth that as much water as is drawne vp, aboue the leuell of the whole bulke in the cisterne, must needes presse into the suncken arme from the next adiacent partes, (that is, from the bottome) to supply its emptying; and as much must of it selfe presse downe from aboue (according to its naturall course, when nothing violenteth it) to rest in

the place, that the ascending water (which is lower then it) leaueth att liberty for it to take possession of. And then it can not be doubted; but that, this descending water, hauing all its weight in pressing downe, applyed to driue vp the rising water in the sunke arme of the syphon; and the water in the other arme of the syphon without, hauing all its weight in running out applyed att the same time to draw vp the same water in the sunke arme; this single resistant must yield to their double and mastering force. And consequently, the water in the arme of the syphon that is in the ayre, must needes draw the water that is in the other immersed arme as long as the end of its pipe reacheth lower then the leuell of the water in the cisterne; for so long it appeareth by what we haue said, it must needes be more weighty; since part of the rising water in the sunke arme of the syphon, is counterpoysed by as much descending water in the cisterne.

And thus it is euident, that out of this experiment it can not be inferred that partes of water do not weigh within the orbe of their owne whole: but onely, that two equall partes of water in their owne orbe (namely that which riseth in the sunken arme, and that which presseth downe from the whole bulke in the cisterne) are of equall weight and do ballance one an othet. So that neuer so little oddes between the two counterpoysing parcells of water which are in the ayre must needes make the water runne out att that end of the syphon, where the ouerweight of water is.

7 1.181The attraction whose cause next to this is most manifest, is that which is made by the force of heate or of fire; for we see that fire, euer draweth ayre vnto it; so notably, that if in a close roome there be a good fire, a man that standeth att the dore or att the window (especially without) shall heare such a noise that he will thinke there is a great wind within the chamber. The reason of this attraction is, that fire rarifying the ayre which is next vnto it; and withall spending it selfe perpetually, causeth the ayre and his owne body mingled together, to fly vp through the chimney or by some other passage. Whence it followeth of necessity that the next body must succeed into the place of the body that is flowne away. This next body generally is ayre, whose mobility and fluidity beyond all other bodies, maketh it of all others the fittest to be drawne; and the more of it that is drawne the more must needes follow. Now if there be floating in this ayre any other atomes subiect to the current which the ayre taketh; they must also come with it to the fire, and by it, must be rarifyed, and be exported out of that little orbe.

Hence it is, that men (with very good reason) do hold that fire ayreth a chamber, as we terme it, that is, purifyeth it; both because it purifyeth it as wind doth by drawing a current of ayre into it that sweepeth through it, or by making it purify it selfe by motion, as a streame of water doth by running; as also, because those vapours which approach the fire, are

burned and dissolued. So that the ayre being noysome and vnwholesome by reason of its grossenesse, proceeding from its standing vnmoued (like a stagnation of dead water, in a marish place) the fire taketh away that cause of annoyance.

By this very rule we learne that other hoat thinges,8 1.182 which participate the nature of fire, must likewise (in other respects) haue a resemblance in this quality. And accordingly wee see that hoat loafes in a bakers shoppe newly drawne out of the ouen, are accounted to draw vnto them any infection which is in the ayre. The like we say of onyons, and other strong breathing substances; which by their smell shew much heate in them. In like manner it is conceiued that pigeons, and rabets, and catts easily take infection, by reason of their extraordinary warmth which they haue in themselves.

And this is confirmed by the practise of Physitians, who vse to lay warme pigeons newly killed to the feete, wristes, or heades of sicke persons; and young puppies to their stomakes, and sometimes certaine hoat gummes to their nauels; to draw out such vapors or humors as infest the body: for the same reason they hang amuletes of arsenike, sublimate, dryed toades or spiders, about their patients neckes, to draw vnto them venimous qualities from their bodies. Hence also it is, that if a man be strucken by a viper or a scorpion, they vse to breake the body of the beast it selfe that stung him (if they can gett it) vpon the wound: but if that beast be crawled out of their finding, they do the like by some other venimous creature; as I haue seene a bruised toad layed to the biting of a viper. And they manifestly perceiue the applyed body, to swell with the poyson sucked out from the wound, and the patient to be relieued and haue lesse poyson; in the same manner as by cupping glasses, the poyson is likewise drawne out from the wound: so that you may see, the reason of both, is the very same; or att the least very like one an other. Onely, we are to note, that the proper body of the beast out of which the venome was driuen into the wound, is more efficacious then any other to sucke it out.

And the like is to be obserued in all other kindes, that such vapors as are to be drawne, do come better and incorporate faster in bodies of like nature, then in those which haue onely the common conditions of heate and drynesse; the one of which serueth to attract; the other to fasten and incorporate into it selfe the moisture which the first draweth vnto it. So we see that water soaketh into a dry body, whence it was extracted, allmost inseparably, and is hidden in it; as when it raineth first after hoat weather, the ground is presently dryed after the shoure. Likewise we see that in most ciments,9 1.183 you must mingle a dust of the nature of the thinges which are to be cimented, if you will haue them bind strongly.

Out of this discourse, we may yield a reason for those magicall operations, which some attribute to the Diuels assistance; peraduenture because mans wickednesse hath beene more ingenious then his good

will; and so hath found more meanes to hurt then to helpe; nay when he hath arriued some way to helpe, those very helpes haue vndergone the same calumny; because of the likenesse which their operations haue to the others. Without doubt very vniustly, if there be truth in the effects. For where haue we any such good suggestions of the enemy of mankind proposed vnto vs, that we may with reason beleeue he would duly, settledly, and constantly concurre to the helpe and seruice of all those he so much hateth, as he must needes do if he be the Author of such effects? Or is it not a wrong to almighty God, and to his carefull instruments; rather to impute vnto the Diuell the aydes which to some may seeme supernaturall, then vnto them of whom we may iustly beleeue and expect such good officies and assistances? I meane, those operations, both good and bad, which ordinarily are called Magneticall, though peraduenture wrongfully, as not hauing that property which denomi∣nateth the loadestone.

One thing I may assure, that if the reportes be true, they haue the perfect imitation of nature in them. As for example; that the weapons salue, or the sympathetike pouder doth require in the vsing it, to be conserued in an equall and moderate temper: and that the weapon which made the wound, or the cloth vpon which the blood remaineth that issued from it, be orderly and frequently dressed; or else the wounded person will not be cured: likewise the steame or spirits, which att the giuing of the wound did enter into the pores of the weapon, must not be driuen out of it, (which will be done by fire; and so when it is heated by holding ouer coales, you may see a moysture sweate out of the blade att the opposite side to the fire, as farre as it entered into the wounded persons body; which being once all sweated out, you shall see no more the like steame vpon the sword) neyther must the blood be washed out of the bloody cloth; for in these cases, the pouder, or salue, will worke nothing. Likewise, if there be any excesse eyther of heate or of cold in keeping the medicated weapon or cloth; the patient feeleth that, as he would do, if the like excesse were in any remedy that were applyed to the wound it selfe: likewise if the medicated weapon or bloody cloth, be kept too close, no effect followeth: likewise, the natures of the thinges vsed in these cures are of themselues soueraigne for healing the like griefes though peraduenture too violent if they were applyed in body without much attenuation.

And truly if we will deny all effects of this kind, we must in a manner renounce all humane fayth: men of all sortes and qualities (and many of them such in my owne knowledge, as I can not question their prudence in obseruing, or their sincerity in relating) hauing very frequently made experience of such medicines, and all affirming after one fashion to haue found the same effects. Adde to these, the multitude of other like effects, appearing or conceited to appeare in other thinges. In some countries it is a familiar disease with kine to haue a swelling in the soales of their

feete: and the ordinary cure is, to cutt a turfe vpon which they haue troden with their sore foote, and to hang it vpon a hedge; and as that dryeth away, so will their sore amend. In other partes they obserue, that if milke newly come from the cowe, do in the boyling runne ouer into the fire; and that this do happen often, and neere together to the same cowes milke; that cowe will haue her vdder sore and inflamed: and the preuention is to cast salt immediately into the fire vpon the milke. The herbe Persicaria if it be well rubbed vpon wartes, and then be layed in some fitt place to putrify, causeth the wartes to weare away as it rotteth: some say the like of fresh beefe. Many examples also there are of hurting liuing creatures by the like meanes; which I sett not downe for feare of doing more harme by the euill inclination of some persons into whose handes they may fall; then profitt by their knowing them, vnto whom I intend this worke.

But to make these operations of nature, not incredible; lett vs remember how we haue determined that euery body whatsoeuer, doth yield some steame, or vent a kind of vapour from it selfe; and consider, how they must needes do so most of all, that are hoat and moyst, as blood and milke are, and as all woundes and sores generally are. We see that the foote of a hare or deere leaueth such an impression where the beast hath passed, as a dog can discerne it a long time after: and a foxe breatheth out so strong a vapour, that the hunters themselues can wind it a great way of, and a good while after he is parted from the place. Now ioyning this, to the experiences we haue already allowed of, concerning the attraction of heate; wee may conclude that if any of these vapours do light vpon a solide warme body, which hath the nature of a source vnto them, they will naturally congregate and incorporate there; and if those vapors be ioyned with any medicatiue quality or body, they will apply that medicament better then any surgeon can apply it. Then, if the steame of blood and spirits, do carry with it from the weapon or cloth, the balsamike qualities of the salue or pouder, and with them do settle vpon the wound; what can follow but a bettering in it? Likewise, if the steame of the corruption that is vpon the clodde, do carry the drying quality of the wind which sweepeth ouer it when it hangeth high in the ayre, vnto the sore part of the cowes foote; why is it not possible that it should dry the corruption there, as well as it dryeth it vpon the hedge? And if the steame of burned milke cā hurt by carrying fire to the dugge; why should not salt cast vpon it, be a preseruatiue against it? Or rather, why should not salt hinder the fire from being carryed thither? Since the nature of salt, alwayes hindereth and suppresseth the actiuity of fire: as we see by experience when we throw salt into the fire below, to hinder the flaming of soute in the toppe of a chimney: which presently ceaseth, when new fire from beneath doth not continue it. And thus we might proceed in sundry other effects, to declare the reason and the possibility of them; were we certaine of the truth of them: therefore we remitt this whole question, to the autority of the testimonies.

THE NINETEENTH CHAPTER. Of three other motions belonging to particular bodies Filtration, Restitution, and Electricall attraction.

1 1.184AFter these, lett vs cast our eye vpon an other motion, very familiar among Alchymistes; which they call Filtration. It is effected by putting one end of a tongue, or labell of flannen, or of cotton, or of flaxe, into a vessell of water, and letting the other end hang ouer the brimme of it. And it will by little and little draw all the water out of that vessell (so that the end which hangeth out be lower then the superficies of the water) and will make it all come ouer into any lower vessell you will reserue it in.

The end of this operation is, when any water is mingled with grosse and muddy partes (not dissolued in the water) to separate the pure and light ones from the impure. By which we are taught that the lighter partes of the water, are those which most easily do catch. And if we will examine in particular, how it is likely this businesse passeth; wee may conceiue that the body or linguet by which ••h•• water ascendeth, being a dry one, some lighter partes of the water, whose chance it is to be neere the clymbing body of flaxe, do beginne to sticke fast vnto it: and then, they require nothing neere so great force, nor so much pressing, to make them clymbe vp along the flaxe, as they would do to make them mount in the pure ayre. As you may see, if you hold a sticke in running water, sheluing against the streame: the water will runne vp along the sticke, much higher then it could be forced vp in the open ayre without any support, though the Agent were much stronger then the current of the streame. And a ball will vpon a rebound, runne much higher vp a sheluing board, then it would if nothing touched it. And I haue beene told that if an eggeshell filled with dew bee sett att ••he foote of a hollow sticke, the sunne will draw it to the toppe of the sheluing sticke, whereas without a proppe, it will not stirre it.

With much more reason then, we may conceiue that water finding as it were little steppes in the cotton to facilitate its iourney vpwardes, must ascend more easily then those other thinges do, so as it once receiue any impulse to driue it vpwardes: for the grauity both of that water which is vpon the cotton, as also, of so many of the confining partes of water as can reach the cotton; is exceedingly allayed, eyther by sticking vnto the cotton, and so weighing in one bulke with ••hat dry body; or else, by not tending downe straight to the center, but resting as it were vpon a steepe plaine (according to what we said of the arme of a syphon that hangeth very sloaping out of the water, and therefore draweth not after it a lesse proportion of water in the other arme that is more in a

direct line to the center:) by which meanes the water, as soone as it beginneth to clymbe, cometh to stand in a kind of cone; nether breaking from the water below, (its bulke, being bigge enough to reach vnto it) nor yet falling downe vnto it.

But our chiefe labour must be,2 1.185 to find a cause that may make the water beginne to ascend. To which purpose, consider how water, of its owne nature, compresseth it selfe together, to exclude any other body lighter then it is. Now in respect of the whole masse of the water, those partes which sticke to the cotton, are to be accounted much lighter then water; not, because in their owne nature they are so; but for the circumstances which accompany them, and do giue them a greater disposition to receiue a motion vpwardes then much lighter bodies, whiles they are destitute of such helpes. Wherefore, as the bulke of water weighing and striuing downewardes; it followeth that if there were any ayre mingled with it, it would, to possesse a lesser place, driue out the ayre: so here in this case, the water that is att the foote of the ladder of cotton, ready to clymbe with a very small impulse, may be after some sort compared (in respect of the water) to ayre by reason of the lightnesse of it: and consequently, is forced vp by the compressing of the rest of the water round about it. Which no faster getteth vp, but other partes att the foote of the ladder do follow the first, and driue them still vpwardes along the towe; and new ones driue the second, and others the third, and so forth. So that with ease they clymbe vp to the toppe of the filter, still driuing one an other forwardes, as you may do a fine towel through a muskett barrell: which though it be too limber to be thrust straight through; yet cramming still new partes into it att the length you will driue the first quite through.

And thus, when these partes of water are gott vp to the toppe of the vessell on which the filter hangeth, and ouer it on the other side by sticking still to the towe, and by their naturall grauity, against which nothing presseth on this side the labell; they fall downe againe by little and little, and by droppes breake againe into water in the vessell sett to receiue them.

But now if you aske why, it will not droppe vnlesse the end of the labell that hangeth,3 1.186 be lower then the water. I conceiue it is because the water which is all along vpon the flannen, is one continued body hanging together, as it were a thridde of wyre; and is subiect to like accidents as such a continued body is. Now suppose you lay a wyre vpon the edge of the basin, which the filter resteth vpon; and so make that edge the center to ballance it vpon: if the end that is outermost be heauyest, it will weigh downe the other; otherwise, not. So fareth it with this thridde of water: if the end of it that hangeth out of the pott, that is to be filtred be longer, and consequently heauyer, then that which riseth; it must needes raise the other vpwardes, and fall it selfe downewardes. Now the raising of the

other, implyeth lifting more water from the cisterne, and the sliding of it selfe further downewardes, is the cause of its conuerting into droppes. So that the water in the cisterne serueth like the flaxe vpon a distaffe, and is spunne into a thridde of water, still as it commeth to the flannen by the drawing it vp, occasioned by the ouerweight of the thridde on the other side of the center.

Which to expresse better by a similitude in a solide body: I remēber I haue oftētimes seene in a Mercers shoppe, a great heap of massy goldlace lye vpon their stall; and a little way aboue it a round smooth pinne of wood, ouer which they vse to hale their lace when they wind it into bottomes. Now ouer this pinne, I haue putt one end of the lace; and as long as it hung no lower thē the board vpō which the rest of the lace did lye, it stirred not; for as the weight of the loose end carried it one way, so the weight of the other side where the whole was, drew it the other way, and in this manner kept it in equilibrity. But as soone as I drew on the hāging end to be heauyer thē the clymbing side (for no more weigheth thē is in the ayre, that which lyeth vpon the board, hauing an other cēter) then it began to roule to the ground; and still drew vp new partes of that which lay vpon the board, vntill all was tumbled downe vpon the floore. In the same manner it happeneth to the water; in which, the thridde of it vpon the filter is to be compared fittly vnto that part of the lace which hung vpon the pinne; and the whole quantity in the cisterne, is like the bulke of lace vpon the shoppeboard; for as fast as the filter draweth it vp, it is conuerted into a thridde like that which is already vpon the filter: in like manner as the wheele conuerteth the flaxe into yarne, as fast as it draweth it out from the distaffe.

4 1.187Our next consideration, will very aptly fall vpon the motion of those thinges, which being bent, do leape with violence to their former figure: whereas others returne but a little; and others do stand in that ply, wherein the bending of them hath sett them. For finding the reason of which effects, our first reflection may be to note, that a superficies which is more long then broad, containeth a lesse floore then that whose sides are equall, or neerer being equall: and that of those surfaces whose lines and angles are all equall, that which hath most sides and angles, containeth still the greater floore. Whence it is that Mathematicians conclude a circle to be the most capacious of all figures: and what they say of lines in respect of a superficies; the same, with proportion they say of surfaces in respect of the body contained. And accordingly we see by consequence, that in the making a bagge of a long napkin, if the napkin be sowed together longwise, it holdeth a great deale lesse then if it be sowed together broadwise.

By this we see plainely, that if any body which is in a thicke and short figure, be forced into a thinner (which by becoming thinner, must likewise become eyther longer or broader; for what it looseth one way it must gett an other) then that superfieies must needes be stretched▪ which

in our case, is a Physicall outside, or materiall part of a solide body, not a Mathematicall consideration of an indiuisible Entity. We see also that this change of figures happeneth in the bending of all those bodies; whereof we are now enquiring the reason why some of them restore themselues to their originall figures, and others stand as they are bent.

Then to begin with the latter sort, we find that they are of a moist nature; as among mettalls, lead, and tinne, and among other bodies, those which we account soft. And we may determine that this effect proceedeth, partly from the humidity of the body that standeth bent; and partly from a drynesse peculiar to it that comprehendeth and fixeth the humidity of it. For by the first, they are rendred capable of being driuen into any figure, which nature or art desireth: and by the second, they are preserued from hauing their grauity putt them out of what figure they haue once receiued.

But because these two conditions, are common to all solide bodies, we may conclude, that if no other circumstance concurred, the effect arising out of them would likewise be common to all such: and therefore, where we find it otherwise, we must seeke further for a cause of that transgression. As for example, if you bend the bodies of young trees, or the branches of others, they will returne to their due figure. It is true, they will sometime leane towardes that way they haue beene bent: as may be seene, euen in great trees after violent tempestes; and generally the heades of trees, and the eares of corne, and the growne hedgerowes, will all bend one way in some countries, where some one wind hath a maine predominance and raigneth most continually, as neere the sea∣shore vpon the westerne coast of England (where the southwest wind bloweth constantly the greatest part of the yeare) may be obserued: but this effect proceeding from a particular and extraordinary cause, concerneth not our matter in hand.

We are to examine the reason of the motion of Restitution, which we generally see in yong trees, and branches of others, as we said before. In such, we see that the earthy part which maketh them stiffe (or rather, starke) aboundeth more in them then in the others that stand as they are bent: att the least in proportion to their natures; but I conceiue this is not the cause of the effect we enquire about; but that it is a subtile spirit which hath a great proportion of fire in it. For as in rarefaction, we found that fire, which was eyther within or without the body to be rarifyed, did cause the rarefaction, eyther by entering into it, or by working within it: so seeing here the question is, for a body to goe out of a lesser superficies into a greater (which is the progresse of rarefaction; and happeneth in the motion of restitution;) the worke must needes be done by the force of heate. And because, this effect proceedeth euidently, out of the nature of the thing in which it is wrought, and not from any outward cause, we may conclude it hath its origine from a heate that is

within the thing it selfe or else that was in it, and may be pressed to the outward partes of it, and would sinke into it againe.

As for example, when a yong tree is bended; both euery mans conceite is, and the nature of the thing maketh vs beleeue, that the force which bringeth the tree backe againe to its figure, cometh from the inner side that is bent; which is compressed together, as being shrunke into a circular figure from a straight one: for when solide bodies that were plaine on both sides, are bent so as on each side to make a portion of a circle, the conuexe superficies will be longer then it was before, when it was plaine, but the concaue will be shorter. And therefore we may conceiue that the spirits which are in the contracted part, (being there squeezed into lesse roome, then their nature well brooketh) do worke themselues into a greater space; or else, that the spirits which are crushed out of the conuexe side by the extension of it, but do remaine besieging it, and do striue to gett in againe, (in such manner as we haue declared when we spoke of attraction, wherein we shewed how the emitted spirits of any body will moue to their owne source, and settle againe in it, if they be within a conuenient compasse;) and accordingly do bring backe the extended partes to their former situation; or rather that both these causes do in their kindes concurre to driue the tree into its naturall figure.

5 1.188But as we see when a sticke is broken, it is very hard to replace all the splinters, euery one in its proper situation; so it must of necessity fall out in this bending, that certaine insensible partes both inward and outward are thereby displaced, and can hardly be perfectly reioynted. Whence it followeth that as you see the splinters of a halfe broken sticke, meeting with one an other do hold the sticke somewhat crooked; so these inuisible partes do the like in such bodies as after bending stand a little that way. But because they are very little ones, the tree or the branch that hath beene neuer so much bended, may (so nothing be broken in it) be sett straight againe by paines, without any notable detriment of its strength. And thus you see the reason of some bodies returning in part to their naturall figure, after the force leaueth them that did bend them.

Out of which you may proceed to those bodies that restore themselues entirely: whereof steele is the most eminent. And of it, we know that there is a fiery spirit in it, which may be extracted out of it, not only by the long operations of calcining, digesting and distilling it; but euen by grosse heating it, and then extinguishing it in wine and other conuenient liquors, as Physitians vse to do. Which is also confirmed by the burning of steele dust in the flame of a candle, before it hath beene thus wrought vpon, which afterwardes it will not do: whereby we are taught that originally there are store of spirits in steele, till they are sucked out. Being then assured, that in steele there is such aboundance of spirits; and knowing that it is the nature of spirits to giue a quicke motion; and

seeing that duller spirits in trees do make this motion of Restitution; we neede seeke no further, what it is that doeth it in steele, or in any other thinges that haue the like nature: which through the multitude of spirits that abound in them (especially steele) do returne backe with so strong a ierke, that their whole body will tremble a great while after, by the force of its owne motion.

By what is said,6 1.189 the nature of those bodies which do shrinke and stretch, may easily be vnderstood: for they are generally composed of stringy partes, vnto which, if humidity happen to arriue, they grow thereby thicker and shorter. As we see that droppes of water getting into a new roape of a welle, or into a new cable, will swell it much thicker, and by consequence, make it shorter. Galileus noteth such wetting to be of so great efficacy, that it will shrinke a new cable, and shorten it notably; notwithstanding, the violence of a tempest and the weight and ierkes of a loaden shippe, do straine it what is possible for them to stretch it. Of this nature, leather seemeth to be, and parchment, and diuers other thinges, which if they be proportionably moystned, (and no exterior force be applyed to extend them) will shrinke vp; but if they be ouerwetted, they will become flaccide. Againe, if they be soddainely dryed, they will shriuell vp; but if they be fairely dryed after moderate wetting, they will extend themselues againe to their first length.

The way hauing been opened by what we haue discoursed,7 1.190 before we came to the motion of Restitution, towardes the discouery of the manner how heauy bodies may be forced vpwardes contrary to their naturall motion, by very small meanes in outward appearance; lett vs now examine (vpon the same groundes) if like motions to this of water, may not be done in some other bodies in a subtiler manner. In which, more or lesse, needeth not trouble vs; since we know, that neyther quantity, nor the operations of it, do consist in an indiuisible, or are limited to determined periodes they may not passe. It is enough for vs to find a ground for the possibility of the operation: and then the perfecting of it and the reducing it to such a height as att the first might seeme impossible and incredibile, we may leaue to the oeconomy of wise nature. He that learneth to read, write, or to play on the lute, is in the beginning, ready to loose hart att euery steppe; when he considereth with what labour, difficulty and slownesse, he ioyneth the letters, spelleth syllabes, formeth characters, fitteth and breaketh his fingers (as though they were vpon the racke) to stoppe the right frettes and to touch the right stringes. And yet you see how strange a dexterity is gained in all these by industry and practise; and a readinesse beyond what we could imagine possible, if we saw not dayly the effects.

If then we can but arriue to decypher the first characters of the hidden Alphabet we are now taking in hand, and can but spellingly reade the first syllabes of it; we neede not doubt, but that the wise

Author of nature in the masterpiece of the creature (which was to expresse the excellency of the workeman) would with excellent cunning and art dispose all circumstances so aptly, as to speake readily a complete language rising from those Elements; and that should haue as large an extent in practise and expression, beyond those first principles, which we like children onely lispe out; as the vast discourses of wisest and most learned men, are beyond the spellinges of infantes: and yet those discourses spring from the same roote, as the others spellinges doe, and are but a raysing of them to a greater height; as the admired musike of the best player of a lute or harpe, that euer was, is deriued from the harsh twanges of course bowestringes, which are composed together, and refined, till att length they arriue to that wonderfull perfection. And so without scruple, we may in the businesse we are next falling vpon, conclude that the admirable and almost miraculous effects we see, are but the eleuating to a wonderfull height those very actions and motions which we shall produce as causes and principles of them.

8 1.191Letr vs then suppose, that there is a solide hard body, of an vnctuous nature; whose partes are so subtile and fiery, that with a little agitation they are much rarifyed, and do breath out in steames, (though they be too subtile for our eyes to discerne) like vnto the steame that issueth from sweating men or horses, or like the steame that flyeth from a candle when it is putt out: but that these steames, as soone as they come into the cold ayre, are by that cold soddainely condensed againe; and by being condensed, do shorten themselues, and by little and little do retire, till they settle themselues vpon the body from whence they sprung: in such manner as you may obserue, the little tender hornes of snailes vse to shrinke backe if any thing touch them, till they settle in little lumpes vpon their heades. If I say these stringes of bituminous vapour should in their way outwardes meete with any light and spungie body, they would pierce into it, and settle in it; and if it were of a competent biggenesse for them to wield, they would carry it with them which way soeuer they goe; so that if they shrinke backe againe to the fountaine from whence they came, they must needes carry backe with them the light spungy body they haue fixed their dartes in.

Consider then, that how much heate rarifyeth, so much cold cōdenseth: and therefore such partes as by agitatiō were spūne out into a subtile thridde of an inch long for exāple, as they coole, do grow bigger and bigger, and consequently shorter and shorter, till att length, they gather thēselues backe into their maine body; and there they settle againe in cold bitumen as they were att the first; and the light body that they sticke vnto, is drawne backe with them, and consequently sticketh to the superficies of the bitumen. As if something were tyed att one end of a lutestring extended to its vtmost capacity, and the other end were fastened to some pinne; as the string shrinketh vp, so that which is tyed att it, must needes moue neerer and neerer the pinne: which artifice of nature

iugglers do imitate, when by meanes of an vnseene haire, they draw light bodies to them. Now if all this operation be done, without your seeing the little thriddes which cause it; the matter appeareth wonderfull and strange. But when you consider this progresse that we haue sett downe, you will iudge it possible.

And this seemeth to be the case of those bodies which we call Electricall; as yellow amber, iett, and the like. All which, are of a bituminous vnctuous nature, as appeareth by their easy combustibility and smell, when they are burned. And if some do not so apparently shew this vnctuous nature, it is because eyther they are too hard, or else they haue a high degree of aqueous humidiry ioyned with their vnctuosity: and in them the operation will be duller in that proportion; for as we see that vnctuous substances are more odoriferous then others, and do send their steames further off, and more efficaciously; so we can not doubt but that such bodies as consist in a moist nature do accordingly send forth their emanations in a feebler proportion. Yet that proportion will not be so feeble, but that they may haue an Electricall effect, as well as the more efficacious Electricall bodies, which may be perceptible, if exact experience be made by an instrument like the mariners needle; as our learned countryman Doctor Gilbert teacheth.

But that in those eminent agents, the spirits, whereby they attract, are vnctuous, is plaine, because the fire consumeth them; and so if the agents be ouerheated they can not worke; but moderate heate euen of fire encreaseth their operation. Againe, they are clogged by mysty ayre, or by wetting: and likewise, are pierced through and cutt asunder by spiritt of wine or aquae ardentes; but oyle doth not hurt them. Likewise, they yield more spirits in the sunne then in the shade; and they continue longer, when the ayre is cleared by North or by Easterne windes. They require to be polished, eyther because the rubbing which polisheth them, doth take off from their surfaces the former emanations, which returning backe do sticke vpon them, and so do hinder the passage of those that are within; or else, because their outsides may be foule; or lastly, because the pores may be dilated by that smoothing. Now that hardnesse and solidity is required; doth argue that these spirits must be quicke ones, that they may returne smartly, and not be lost through their languishing in the ayre. Likewise, that all bodies which are not eyther exceeding rare, or else sett on fire, may be drawne by these vnctuous thriddes; concludeth that the quality by which they do it, is a common one that hath no particular contrarieties; such a one as we see is in grease or in pitch to sticke to any thing; from which, in like manner nothing is exempted but fire and ayre. And lastly, that they worke most efficaciously, when they are heated by rubbing, rather then by fire; sheweth that their spirits are excitated by motion, and are thereby made to flye abroad; in such manner as we see in pomanders, and in other perfumes, which must be heated if you will haue them

communicate their sent: and alike effect as in them, agitation doth in iett, yellow amber, and such other Electricall bodies; for if vpon rubbing them, you putt them presently to your nose, you will discerne a strong bituminous smell in them; all which circumstances do shew that this Electricall vertue, consisteth in a certaine degree of rarity or density of the bodies vnctuous emanations.

Now if these refined and viscous thriddes of iett or amber, do in their streaming abroad meete with a piece of straw, or of hay, or of a dryed leafe, or some such light and spungy body; it is no maruayle if they glew themselues vnto it like birdlime; and that in their shrinking backe (by being condensed againe and repulsed, through the coldnesse of the ayre) they carry it along with them to their entire body. Which they that onely see the effect, and can not penetrate into a possibility of a naturall cause thereof, are much troubled withall.

And this seemeth vnto me to beare a fairer semblance of truth, then what Cabeus deliuereth for cause of Electricall attractions.9 1.192 Whose speculation herein, though I can not allow for solide, yet I must for ingenious. And certainely euen errors are to be commended, when they are witty ones, and do proceed from a casting further about, then the beaten tracke of verball learning, or rather termes which explicate not the nature of the thing in question. He sayth that the coming of strawes and such other light bodies vnto amber, iett, and the like, proceedeth from a wind raysed by the forcible breaking out of subtile emanations from the Electricall bodies into the ayre, which bringeth those light bodies along with it to the Electricall ones.

But this discourse can not hold: for first, it is not the nature of vnctuous emanations (Generally speaking) to cause smart motions singly of themselues. Secondly, although they should rayse a wind, I do not comprehend how this wind should driue bodies directly backe to the source that raysed it; but rather any other way; and so consequently, should driue the light bodies it meeteth with in its way, rather from, then towardes the Electricall body. Thirdly, if there should be such a wind raysed, and it should bring light bodies to the Electricall ones; yet it could not make them sticke therevnto, which we see they do, turne them which way you will, as though they were glewed together.

Neyther do his experiences conuince any thing; for what he sayth that the light bodies are sometimes brought to the Electricall body with such a violence, that they rebound backe from it, and then returne againe to it, maketh rather against him: for if wind were the cause of their motion, they would not returne againe, after they had leaped backe from the Electricall body; no more then we can imagine that the wind it selfe doth.

The like is of his other experience, when he obserued that some little graines of sawdust hanging att an Electricall body, the furthermost of

them not onely fell of, but seemed to be driuen away forcibly: for they did not fall directly downe, but sidewayes; and besides did fly away with a violence and smartnesse that argued some strong impulse. The reason whereof might be, that new emanations might smite them, which not sticking and fastening vpon them, whereby to draw them neerer, must needes push them further: or it might be that the emanations vnto which they were glewed, shrinking backe vnto their maine body, the latter graines were shouldered of by others that already besieged the superficies; and then the emanations retiring swiftly the graines must breake of with a force: or else, we may conceiue it was the force of the ayre that bore them vp a little, which made an appearance of their being driuen away; as we see feathers and other light thinges descend not straight downe.

THE TWENTIETH CHAPTER. Of the Loadstones generation; and its particular motions.

THere is yet remaining,1 1.193 the great mystery of the Loadstone to discourse of. Which all Authors, both auntient and moderne, haue agreed vpon as an vndenyable example and euidence, of the shortenesse of mans reach in comprehending, and of the impossibility of his reason in penetrating into, and explicating such secrets, as nature hath a mind to hide from vs. Wherefore our reader (I am sure) will not in this subiect expect cleare satisfaction or plaine demonstrations, att our handes: but will iugde we haue fairely acquitted our selues, if what we say be any whitt plausible.

Therefore, to vse our best endeauours to content him; lett vs reflect vpon the disposition of partes of this habitable globe, whereof we are tenants for liues. And we shall find that the sunne by his constant course vnder the zodiake, heateth a great part of it vnmeasurably more then he doth the rest. And consequently, that this zodiake being in the middest betweene two (as it were) endes, which we call the Poles, these poles must necessarily be extremely cold, in respect of the torride zone; for so we call that part of the earth which lyeth vnder the zodiake.

Now looking into the consequence of this; we find that the sunne, or the sunnes heate which reflecteth from the earth in the torride zone, must rarify the ayre extremely, and according to the nature of all heate and fire, must needes carry away from thence, many partes of the ayre and of the earth sticking to that heate, in such sort as we haue formerly declared.

Whence it followeth, that other ayre must necessarily come from the regions towardes both the poles, to supply what is carryed away from the middle, as is the course in other fires, and as we haue explicated aboue:

especially cōsidering, that the ayre which cometh from the polewardes, is heauyer then the ayre of the torride zone;* 1.194 and therefore, must naturally presse to be still neerer the earth; and so, as it were shouldereth vp the ayre of the torride zone towardes the circumference, by rouling into its place: and this, in great quantities; and consequently, the polar ayre must draw a great trayne after it.

Which if we consider the great extent of the torride zone, we shall easily persuade our selues, that it must reach on each side, to the very pole: for taking from Archimedes, that the sphericall superficies of a portion of a spher••, is to the superficies of the whole sphere, according as the part of the axis of that sphere comprised within the said portion, is to the whole axis: and considering that (in our case) the part of the axis comprised within the torride zone, is to the whole axis of the earth, in about the proportion of 4. to 10; it must of necessity follow that a fire or great heate raigning in so vast an extent, will draw ayre very powerfully from the rest of the world.

Neyther lett any man apprehend that this course of the sunnes eleuating so great quantities of atomes in the torride zone, should hinder the course of grauity there: for first the medium is much rarer in the torride zone then in other partes of the earth; and therefore the force of the descending atomes, needeth not to be so great there as in other places, to make bodies descend there as fast as they do else where. Secondly, there being a perpetuall supply of fresh ayre from the polar partes, streaming continually into the torride zone; it must of necessity happen that in the ayre there come atomes to the torride zone, of that grossenesse that they can not soddainely be so much rarifyed as the subtiler partes of ayre that are there: and therefore, the more those subtiler partes are rarifyed, and thereby happen to be carried vp, the stronger and the thicker the heauyer atomes must descend. And thus this concurse of ayre from the polar partes, mainetayneth grauity vnder the zodiake; where otherwise all would be turned into fire, and so haue no grauity.

2 1.195Now, who cōsidereth the two hemispheres which by the aequator are diuided; will find that they are not altogether of equall complexions; but that our hemisphere, in which the Northpole is comprised, is much dryer then the other, by reason of the greater cōtinent of land in this, and the vaster tract of sea in the other; and therefore the supply which cometh frō the diuers hemispheres, must needes be of differēt natures; that which cometh from towardes the Southpole, being compared to that which cometh frō towardes the North, as the more wett to the more dry. Yet of how different cōplexions soeuer they be, you see they are the emanations of one and the same body. Not vnlike vnto what nature hath instituted in the ranke of animals: among whom, the male and the female are so distinguished by heate and cold, moysture and drought; that neuerthelesse all belongeth, but to one nature; and that, in degrees

though manifestly different, yet so neere together that the body of one is in a manner the same thing, as the body of the other. Euen so, the complexions of the two hemispheres are in such sort different in the same qualities, that neuerthelesse they are of the same nature▪ and are vnequall partes of the same body which we call the earth. Now Alchymistes assure vs, that if two extractions of one body do meete together they will incorporate one with the other; especially, if there be some little difference in the complexion of the extractions.

Whence it followeth that these two streames of ayre,3 1.196 making vp one continuate floud of various currents, from one end of the world to the other; each streame that cometh to the equator from its owne Pole, by the extraction of the sunne, and that is still supplyed with new matter flowing from its owne pole to the aequator, before the sunne can sufficiently rarify and lift vp the atomes that came first perpendicularly vnder its beames (as it vseth to happen in the effects of Physicall causes, which can not be rigorously aiusted, but must haue some latitude; in which, nature inclineth euer rather to aboundance then to defect,) will passe, euen to the other pole, by the conduct of his fellow, in case he be by some occasion driuen backe homewardes.

For as we see in a boule or paile full of water, or rather in a pipe, through which the water runneth along; if there be a little hole att the bottome or side of it, the water will wriggle and change its course to creepe out att that pipe; especially if there be a little spigott, or quill att the outside of the hole, that by the narrow length of it helpeth in some sort (as it were) to sucke it. So if any of the files of the army or flould of atomes sucked from one of the Poles to the aequator, do there find any gappes, or chinkes, or lanes of retiring files in the front of the other poles batalia of atomes, they will presse in there: in such manner as we haue aboue declared that water doth by the helpe of a labell of cotton▪ and as is exemplyfied in all the attractions of venime by venimous bodies whereof we haue giuen many examples aboue: and they will go along with them the course they goe. For as when a thicke short guilded ingott of siluer is drawne out into a long subtile wyre; the wyre continuing still perfectly guilded all ouer, doth manifestly shew that the outside and the inside of the ingott, do strangely meete together, and intermixe in the drawing out: so this little streame which (like an eddy current) runneth backe from the aequator towardes its owne Pole, will continue to the end still tincted with the mixture of the other Poles atomes, it was incor∣porated with att its coming to the aequator.

Now that some little riuolets of ayre and atomes should runne backe to their owne Pole, contrary to the course of their maine streame will be easily enough to conceiue; if we but consider that att certaine times of the yeare windes do blow more violently and strongly from some de∣terminate part or Rombe of the world, then they do att other times and from other partes. As for example▪ our East India Mariners tell vs of the

famous Mon••ones they find in those partes; which are strong windes that raigne constantly six monthes of the yeare from one polewardes, and the other six monthes, from the other pole, and beginne precisely about the sunnes entering into such a signe or degree of the zodiake, and continue till about its entrance into the opposite degree. And in our partes of the world certaine smart Easterly or Northeasterly windes do raigne about the end of March and beginning of Aprill; when it seemeth that some snowes are melted by the spring heates of the sunne. And other windes haue their courses in other seasons, vpon other causes. All which do euidently conuince, that the course of the ayre, and of vapors from the poles to the equator, can not be so regular and vniforme, but that many impediments and crosses, do light in the way, to make breaches in it; and thereby to force it in some places to an opposite course. In such sort as we see happeneth in eddy waters, and in the course of a tide, wherein the streame running swiftly in the middle, beateth the edges of the water to the shore, and thereby maketh it runne backe att the shore. And hence we may conclude, that although the maine course of ayre and atomes (for example from north to south, in our hemisphere) can neuer faile of going on towardes the aequator, constantly att the same rate, in grosse; neuerthlesse, in seuerall particular little partes of it (and especially att the edges of those streames that are driuen on faster then the rest, by an extraordinary and accidentall violent cause) it is variously interrupted, and sometimes entirely stopped, and other times euen driuen backe to the northwardes.

And if peraduenture any man should thinke that this will not fall out, because each streame seemeth to be alwayes coming from his owne Pole to the aequator, and therefore will oppose and driue backe any bodies that with lesse force should striue to swimme against it; or if they sticke vnto them, will carry them backe to the aequator. We answere, that we must not conceiue that the whole ayre in body doth euery where equally encroach from the polewardes vpon the torride zone; but, as it were in certaine brookes or riuolets, according as the contingency of all causes putt together doth make it fall out.

Now then out of what we haue said it will follow; that since all the ayre in this our hemisphere is as it were strewed ouer and sowed with aboundance of northerne atomes, and that some brookes of them are in station, others in a motion of retrogradation backe to their owne north pole; the southerne atomes (which coming vpon them att the equator do not onely presse in among them, wheresoeuer they can find admittance, but do also go on fowardes to the north pole in seuerall files by themselues, being driuen that way by the same accidentall causes, which make the others retire backe) seising in their way vpon the northerne ones in such manner as we described in filtration; and thereby creeping along by them wheresoeuer they find them standing still, and going along with them, wheresoeuer they find them going backe; must

of necessity find passage in great quantities towardes, and euen to the north pole; though some partes of them will euer and anone be checked in this their iourney, by the maine current preuayling ouer some accidentall one, and so be carried backe againe to the aequator, whose line they had crossed.

And this effect can not choose but be more or lesse according to the seasons of the yeare: for when the sunne is in the Tropike of Capricorne, the southerne atomes will flow in much more aboundance, and with farre greater speede, into the torride zone, then the northerne atomes can; by reason of the sunnes approximation to the south, and his distance from the north pole; since he worketh faintest, where he is furthest off: and therefore from the north no more emanations or atomes will be drawne, but such as are most subtilised, and duly prepared for that course. And since onely these selected bandes do now march towardes the aequator, their files must needes be thinner, then when the sunnes being in the aequator or Tropike of Cancer wakeneth and mustereth vp all their forces. And consequently, the quiett partes of ayre betweene their files (in which like atomes are also scattered) are the greater: whereby the aduenient southerne atomes haue the larger filter to clymbe vp by. And the like happeneth in the other hemisphere, when the sunne is in the Tropike of Cancer; as who will bestow the paines to compare them, will presently see.

Now then lett vs consider what these two streames thus incorporated must of necessity do in the surface or vpper partes of the earth.4 1.197 First it is euident they must needes penetrate a pretty depth into the earth; for so freesing persuadeth vs, and much more, the subtile penetration of diuers more spirituall bodies, of which we haue sufficiently discoursed aboue. Now lett vs conceiue that these steames, do find a body of a conuenient density to incorporate themselues in, in the way of density, as we see that fire doth in iron, and in other dense bodies: and this not for an houre or two as happeneth in fire; but for yeares: as I haue beene told that in the extreme cold hilles in the Peake in Darbyshire happeneth to the dry atomes of cold, which are permanently incorporated in water by long continuall freesing and so make a kind of chrystall.

In this case, certainely it must come to passe that this body will become in a māner wholy of the nature of these steames: which because they are drawne from the Poles that abound in cold and drynesse, (for others that haue not these qualities, do not contribute to the intended effect) the body is aptest to become a stone:5 1.198 for so we see that cold and drought, turneth the superficiall partes of the earth into stones and rockes; and accordingly, wheresoeuer cold and dry windes raigne powerfully, all such countries are mainely rocky.

Now then lett vs suppose, this stone to be taken out of the earth and hanged in the ayre, or sett conueniently vpon some little pinne, or otherwise putt in liberty, so as a small impulse may easily turne it any way:

it will in this case certainely follow that the end of the stone which in the earth lay towardes the north pole, will now in the ayre conuert it selfe in the same manner towardes the same point; and the other end which lay towardes the south, turne by consequence to the south. I speake of these countries which lye betweene the aequator and the North; in which it can not choose but that the streame going from the north to the aequator, must be stronger then the opposite one.

Now to explicate, how this is done; suppose the stone hanged east and west freely in the ayre; the streame which is drawne from the north pole of the earth rangeth along by it in its course to the aequator; and finding in the stone the south steame, (which is growne innate to it) very strong, it must needes incorporate it selfe with it; and most, by those partes of the steame in the stone which are strongest: which are they that come directly from the North of the stone; by which I meane that part of the stone that lay northward in the earth, and that still looketh to the north pole of the earth now it is in the ayre. And therefore the great flood of atomes coming from the north pole of the earth will incorporate it selfe most strongly, by the north end of the stone with the little flood of southerne atomes it findeth in the stone: for that end serueth for the coming out of the southerne atomes, and sendeth them abroad; as the south end doth the northerne steame, since the steames do come in att one end, and do go out att the opposite end.

From hence we may gather, that this stone will ioyne and cleaue to its attractiue, whensoeuer it happeneth to be within the sphere of its actiuity. Besides if by some accident it should happen that the atomes or steames which are drawne by the sunne from the Polewardes to the aequator, should come stronger from some part of the earth, which is on the side hand of the Pole, then from the very Pole it selfe; in this case the stone will turne from the Pole towardes that side. Lastly, whatsoeuer this stone will do towardes the Pole of the earth; the very same a lesser stone of the same kind will do towardes a greater. And if there be any kind of other substance that hath participation of the nature of this stone, such a substance will behaue it selfe towardes this stone, in the same manner, as such a stone behaueth it selfe towardes the earth: all the Phenomens whereof, may be the more plainely obserued, if the stone be cutt into the forme of the earth.

And thus, we haue found a perfect delineation of the loadestone from its causes: for there is no man so ignorant of the nature of a loadestone, but he knoweth that the properties of it are to tend towardes the North; to vary sometimes; to ioyne with an other loadestone; to draw iron vnto it; and such like, whose causes you see deliuered.

But to come to experimentall proofes and obseruations vpon the loadestone by which it will appeare, that these causes are well esteemed

and applyed,6 1.199 we must be beholding to that admirable searcher of the nature of the loadestone Doctor Gilbert; by meanes of whom and of Doctor Haruey, our Natiō may claime euen in this latter age as deserued a crowne for solide Philosophicall learning as for many ages together it hath done formerly for acute and subtile speculations in Diuinity. But before I fall to particulars, I thinke it worth warning my Reader, how this great man arriued to discouer so much of Magneticall Philosophy; that he likewise, if he be desirous to search into nature, may by imitation aduance his thoughts and knowledge that way.

In short then, all the knowledge he gott of this subiect, was by forming a little loadestone into the shape of the earth. By which meanes he compassed a wonderfull designe, which was, to make the whole globe of the earth maniable: for he found the properties of the whole earth, in that little body; which he therefore called a Tertella, or little earth; and which he could manage and trye experiences vpon, att his will. And in like manner, any man that hath an ayme to aduance much in naturall sciencies, must endeauour to draw the matter he enquireth of, into some small modell, or into some kind of manageable methode; which he may turne and wind as he pleaseth. And then lett him be sure, if he hath a competent vnderstanding, that he will not misse of his marke.

But to our intent; the first thing we are to proue is, that the loadestone is generated in such sort as we haue described:7 1.200 for proofe whereof, the first ground we will lay, shall be to consider how in diuers other effects it is manifest, that the differences of being exposed to the north or to the south, do cause very great variety in the same thing: as hereafter, we shall haue occasion to touch, in the barkes and graines of trees, and the like. Next, we find by experience, that this vertue of the loadestone is receiued into other bodies that resemble its nature, by heatinges and coolinges: for so it passeth in iron barres, which being throughly heated▪ and then layed to coole north and south, are thereby imbued with a Magnetike vertue; heate opening their bodies, and disposing them to sucke in, such atomes as are conuenient to their nature, that flow vnto them whiles they are cooling. So that we can not boubt, but that conuenient matter fermenting in its warme bed vnder the earth, becometh a loadestone by the like sucking in of affluent streames of a like complexion to the former.

And it fareth in like manner with those fiery instruments (as fireforkes, tonges, shouels, and the like) which do stand constantly vpwardes and downewardes; for they, by being often heated and cooled againe, do gaine a very strong verticity, or turning to the Pole: and indeede, they can not stand vpwardes and downewardes so little a while, but that they will in that short space gaine a manifest verticity; and change it att euery turning. Now since the force and vigour of this verticity, is in the end that standeth downewardes; it is euident that this effect proceedeth out

of an influence receiued from the earth.

And because in a loadestone (made into a globe, or considered so, to the end you may reckon hemispheres in it, as in the great earth) eyther hemisphere giueth vnto a needle touched vpon it, not onely the vertue of that hemisphere where it is touched, but likewise the vertue of the contrary hemisphere; we may boldly conclude that the vertue which a loadestone is impregnated with in the wombe or bed of the earth, where it is formed and groweth, proceedeth as well from the contrary hemisphere of the earth, as from that wherein it lyeth; in such sort, as we haue aboue described. And as we feele oftentimes in our owne bodies, that some cold we catch remaineth in vs a long while after the taking it, and that sometimes it seemeth euen to change the nature of some part of our body into which it is chiefely entered, and hath taken particular possession of; so that whensoeuer new atomes of the like nature, do againe range about in the circumstant ayre, that part so deepely affected with the former ones of kinne to these, doth in a particular manner seeme to rissent them, and to attract them to it, and to haue its guestes within it (as it were) wakened and roused vp by the stroakes of the aduenient ones that knocke att their dores. Euen so (but much more strongly, by reason of the longer time and lesse hinderances) we may conceiue that the two vertues or atomes proceeding from the two different hemispheres, do constitute a certaine permanent and constant nature in the stone that imbideth them: which then, we call a loadestone; and is exceeding sensible (as we shall hereafter declare) of the aduenience to it of new atomes, alike in nature and complexion to those that it is impregnated with.

And this vertue, consisting in a kind of softer and tenderer substance then the rest of the stone, becometh thereby subiect to be consumed by fire. From whence we may gather the reason why a loadestone neuer recouereth its magnetike vertue, after it hath once lost it; though iron doth: for the humidity of iron, is inseparable from its substance; but the humidity of a loadestone which maketh it capable of this effect, may be quite consumed by fire; and so the stone be left too dry, for euer being capable of imbibing any new influence from the earth, vnlesse it be by a kind of new making it.

8 1.201In the next place we are to proue that the loadestone doth worke in that manner as we haue shewed, for which end lett vs consider how the atomes, that are drawne from each Pole and hemisphere of the earth to the aequator, making vp their course by a manuduction of one an other, the hindermost can not choose but still follow on after the foremost. And as it happeneth in filtration by a cotton cloth; if some one part of the cotton, haue its disposition to the ascent of the water, more perfect and ready then the other partes haue; the water will assuredly ascend faster in that part, then in any of the rest: so, if the atomes do find a greater disposition for their passage, in any one part of the medium

they range through, then in an other, they will certainely, not faile of taking that way, in greater aboundance, and with more vigour and strength, then any other.

But it is euident, that when they meete with such a stone as we haue described, the helpes by which they aduance in their iourney, are notably encreased by the floud of atomes which they meete coming out of that stone; which being of the nature of their opposite pole, they seise greedily vpon them, and thereby do plucke themselues faster on: like a ferryman that draweth on his boate the swiftlyer, the more vigourously he tuggeth and pulleth att the rope that lyeth thwart the riuer for him to hale himselfe ouer by. And therefore we can not doubt but that this floud of atomes streaming from the pole of the earth, must needes passe through that stone with more speed and vigour then they can do any other way.

And as we see in the running of water; that if it meeteth with any lower cranies then the wide channell it streameth in; it will turne out of its straight way, to glide along there where it findeth an easier and more decliue bed to tumble in: so these atomes will infallibly deturne themselues from their direct course, to passe through such a stone as farre as their greater conueniency leadeth them.

And what we haue said of these atomes which from the Poles do range through the vast sea of ayre to the aequator; is likewise to be applyed vnto those atomes which issue out of the stone: so that we may conclude, that if they meete with any helpe which may conuey them on with more speede and vigour, then whiles they streame directly forwardes; they will likewise deturne them selues from directly forwardes, to take that course. And if the stone it selfe be hanged so nicely, that a lesse force is able to turne it about then is requisite to turne aw••y out of its course the continued streame of atomes which issueth from the stone: in this case, the stone it selfe must needes turne towardes that streame which clymbing and filtring it selfe along the stones streame, draweth it out of its course; in such sort as the nose of a weathercocke butteth it selfe into the wind. Now then; it being knowne, that the strongest streame cometh directly, from the north in the great earth, and that the souththerne streame of the Terrella or loadestone proportioned duely by nature to incorporate with the north streame of the earth, issueth out of the north end of the stone; it followeth plainely that when a loadestone is situated att liberty, its north end must necessarily turne towardes the north pole of the world.

And it will likewise follow, that whensoeuer such a stone meeteth with an other of the same nature and kind; they must comport themselues to one an other in like sort: that is, if both of them be free and equall, they must turne themselues to, or from, one an other▪ according as they are situated in respect of one an other. So that if their axes be parallele, and the south pole of the one, and the north of the other do looke the same way; then they will send proportionate, and

agreeing streames to one an other from their whole bodies, that will readily mingle and incorporate with one an other, without turning out of their way or seeking any shorter course or changing their respects to one another.

But if the poles of the same denomination do looke the same way, and the loadestone do not lye in such sort as to haue their axes parallele, but that they encline to one an other: then they will worke themselues about, vntill they grow by their opposite poles into a straight line; for the same reason as we haue shewed of a loadestone turning to the pole of the earth.

But if onely one of the loadestones be free and the other be fixed, and that they lye inclined, as in the former case; then, the free stone will worke himselfe vntill his pole be opposite to that part of the fixed stone from whence the streame which agreeth with him, issueth strongest: for that streame is to the free loadestone, as the northerne streame of the earth, is to a loadestone compared vnto the earth. But withall, we must take notice that in this our discourse, we abstract from other accidents; and particularly from the influence of the earthes streames into the loadestones: which will cause great variety in these cases, if they lye not due north and south, when they beginne to worke.

And as loadestones and other magnetike bodies, do thus of necessity turne to one an other when they are both free; and if one of them be fastened, the other turneth to it; so likewise, if they be free to progressiue motion, they must by a like necessity and for the same reason, come together and ioyne themselues to one an other. And if only one of them be free, that must remoue it selfe to the other: for, the same vertue that maketh them turne, (which is, the strength of the steame) will likewise (in due circumstances) make them come together; by reason that the steames which clymbe vp one an other by the way of filtration, and do thereby turne the bodies of the stones vpon their centers when they are only free to turne, must likewise, draw the whole bodies of the stones entirely out of their places, and make them ioyne, when such a totall motion of the body is an effect that requireth no more force, then the force of conueying vigorously the streames of both the Magnetike bodies into one an other; that is, when there is no such impediment standing in the way of the Magnetike bodies motion, but that the celerity of the atomes motion, mingling with one an other, is able to ouercome it: for then, it must needes do so; and the magnetike body by naturall coherence vnto the steame of atomes in which it is inuolued, followeth the course of the steame: in such sort as in the example we haue heretofore vpon an other occasion giuen of an eggeshell filled with deaw; the sunnebeames conuerting the deaw into smoake, and raising vp that smoake or steame, the eggeshell is likewise raised vp for company with the steame that issueth from it.

And for the same reason it is, that the loadestone draweth iron: for

iron being of a nature apt to receiue and harbour the steames of a loadestone; it becometh a weake loadestone; and worketh towardes a loadestone, in such sort as a weaker loadestone would do: and so moueth, towardes a loadestone by the meanes we haue now described. And that this conformity between iron and the loadestone, is the true reason of the loadestones drawing of iron, is cleare out of this; that a loadestone will take vp a greater weight of pure iron, then it will of impure or drossy iron; or of iron and some other mettall ioyned together: and that it will draw further through a slender long iron, then in the free open ayre: all which, are manifest signes, that iron cooperateth with the force, which the loadestone grafteth in it. And the reason why iron cometh to a loadestone more efficaciously then an other loadestone doth, is, because loadestones generally are more impure then iron is (as being a kind of oore or mine of iron) and haue other extraneous and heterogeneall natures mixed with them: whereas iron receiueth the loadestones operation in its whole substance.

THE ONE AND TWENTIETH CHAPTER. Positions drawne out of the former doctrine, and confirmed by experimentall proofes.

THe first position is,1 1.202 that the working of the loadestone, being throughout according to the tenour of the operation of bodies, may be done by bodies, and consequently is not done by occult or secret qualities. Which is euident out of this, that a greater loadestone hath more effect then a lesser: and that if you cutt away part of a loadestone, part of his vertue is likewise taken from him: and if the partes be ioyned againe, the whole becometh as strong as it was before.

Againe; if a loadestone touch a longer iron, it giueth it lesse force then if it touch a shorter iron: nay, the vertue in any part, is sensibly lesser, according as it is further from the touched part. Againe; the longer an iron is in touching, the greater vertue it getteth, and the more constant. And both an iron and a loadestone may loose their vertue, by long lying out of their due order and situation, eyther to the earth or to an other loadestone.

Besides, if a loadestone do touch a long iron in the middle of it, he diffuseth his vertue equally towardes both endes; and if it be a round plate, he diffuseth his vertue equally to all sides.

And lastly, the vertue of a loadestone, as also of an iron touched, is lost by burning it in the fire. All which symptomes agreeing exactly with the rules of bodies, do make it vndenyable that the vertue of the loadestone is a reall and solide body.

2 1.203Against this position, Cabeus obiecteth that little atomes would not be able to penetrate all sortes of bodies; as we see the vertue of the loade∣stone doth. And vrgeth, that although they should be allowed to do so, yet they could not be imagined to penetrate thicke and solide bodies so soddainely, as they would do thinne ones; and would certainely shew then some signe of facility or difficulty of passing, in the interposition and in the taking away of bodies putt betweene the loadestone and the body it worketh vpon. Secondly he obiecteth that atomes being little bodies, they can not moue in an instant; as the working of the loadestone seemeth to do. And lastly; that the loadestone, by such aboundance of continuall euaporations, would quickely be consumed.

To the first, we answere; that atomes whose nature it is to pierce iron, can not reasonably be suspected of inability to penetrate any other body: and that atomes can penetrate iron, is euident in the melting of it by fire. And indeed this obiection cometh now too late, after we haue so largely declared the diuisibility of quantity, and the subtility of nature in reducing all thinges into extreme small partes: for this difficulty hath no other auow, then the tardity of our imaginations in subtilising sufficiently the quantitatiue partes that issue out of the loadestone.

As for any tardity that may be expected by the interposition of a thicke or dense body; there is no appearance of such, since we see light passe through thicke glasses without giuing any signe of meeting with the least opposition in its passage, (as we haue aboue declared att large:) and magneticall emanations haue the aduantage of light in this, that they are not obliged to straight lines, as light is.

Lastly, as for loadestones spending of themselues by still venting their emanations; odoriferous bodies furnish vs with a full answere to that obiection: for they do continue many yeares palpably spending of themselues, and yet keepe their odour in vigour; whereas a loadestone, if it be layed in a wrong position will not continue halfe so long. The reason of the duration of both which, maketh the matter manifest and taketh away all difficulty: which is, that as in a roote of a vegetable, there is a power to change the aduenient iuice into its nature; so is there in such like thinges as these, a power to change the ambient ayre into their owne substance: as euident experience sheweth in the Hermetike salt, (as some moderne writers call it) which is found to be rapayred, and encreased in its weight, by lying in the ayre; and the like happeneth to saltpeter. And in our present subiect, experience informeth vs, that a loadestone will grow stronger by lying in due position eyther to the earth, or to a stronger loadestone, whereby it may be better impregnated, and as it were feed it selfe with the emanatiōs issuing out of them into it.

3 1.204Our next position is, that this vertue cometh to a magnetike body, from an other body; as the nature of bodies is, to require a being moued, that they may moue. And this is euident in iron; which by the touch, or by standing in due position neere the loadestone gaineth the

power of the loadestone. Againe, if a smith in beating his iron into a rodde, do obserue to lay it north and south; it getteth a direction to the north, by the very beating of it. Likewise if an iron rodde be made red hoat in the fire, and be kept there a good while together, and when it is taken out, be layed to coole iust north and south; it will acquire the same direction towardes the north. And this is true, not only of iron, but also of all other sortes of bodies whatsoeuer that endure such ignition: particularly, of pottearthes, which if they be moulded in a long forme, and when they are taken out of the kilne be layed (as we sayd of the iron) to coole north and south, will haue the same effect wrought in them. And iron, though it hath not beene heated; but only hath cōtinued long vnmoued in the same situation of north and south, in a building; yet it will haue the same effect. So as it can not be denyed, but that this vertue cometh vnto iron frō other bodies: whereof one must be a secret influēce from the north. And this is confirmed, by a loadestones loosing its vertue (as we said before) by lying a long time vnduly disposed, eyther towardes the earth, or towardes a stronger loadestone; whereby insteed of the former, it gaineth a new vertue according to that situation.

And this happeneth, not only in the vertue which is resident and permanent in a loadestone or a touched iron; but likewise, in the actuall motion or operation of them. As may be experienced; first, in this, that the same loadestone or touched irō in the south hemisphere of the world hath its operatiō strongest att that end of it which tendeth to the north; and in the north hemisphere, att the end which tēdeth to the south: each pole communicating a vigour proportionable to its owne strēgth in the climate where it is receiued. Secondly, in this, that an iron ioyned to a loadestone, or within the sphere of the loadestones working, will take vp an other piece of iron greater then the loadestone of it selfe can hold; and as soone as the holding iron is remoued out of the sphere of the loadestones actiuity, it presently letteth fall the iron it formerly held vp: and this is so true; that a lesser loadestone may be placed in such sort within the sphere of a greater loadestones operation, as to take away a piece of iron from the greater loadestone; and this, in vertue of the same greater loadestone from which it plucketh it: for, but remoue the lesser out of the sphere of the greater; and then it can no longer do it. So that it is euident, that in these cases, the very actuall operation of the lesser loadestone or of the iron; proceedeth from the actuall influence of the greater loadestone vpon and into them. And hence we may vnderstand, that whensoeuer a Magnetike body doth worke, it hath an excitation from without, which doth make it issue out and send its streames abroad; in such sort as it is the nature of all bodies to do; and as we haue giuen examples of the like done by heate, when we discoursed of Rarefaction.

But to explicate this point more clearely by entering more particularly into it; if a magnetike body lyeth north and south, it is easy and obuious to conceiue that the streames coming from north and south of the

world, and passing through the stone must needes excitate the vertue which is in it, and carry a streame of it along with them that way, they goe. But if it lyeth East and West, then the steames of north and south of the earth, streaming along by the two Poles of the stone, are sucked in by them much more weakely: yet neuerthelesse sufficiently to giue an excitation to the innate steames which are in the body of the stone, to make them moue on in their ordinarie course.

4 1.205The third position is, that the vertue of the loadestone is a double and not one simple vertue. Which is manifest in an iron touched by a loadestone, for if you touch it only with one pole of the stone, it will not be so strong and full of the magnetike vertue, as if you touch one end of it with one pole, and the other end of it with the other pole of the stone. Againe; if you touch both endes of an iron, with the same pole of the stone, the iron gaineth its vertue att that end which was last touched; and changeth its vertue from end to end, as often as it is rubbed att contrary endes. Againe; one end of the loadestone or of iron touched, will haue more force on the one side of the aequator, and the other end on the other side of it. Againe; the variation on the one side of the aequator, and the variation on the other side of it, haue different lawes according to the different endes of the loadestone, or of the needle, which looketh to those Poles.

Wherefore, it is euident, that there is a double vertue in the loadestone, the one more powerfull att the one end of it; the other more powerfull att the other end. Yet these two vertues are found in euery sensible part of the stone: for cutting it att eyther end, the vertue att the contrary end is also diminished. And the whole loadestone that is left, hath both the same vertues, in proportion to its biggnesse. Besides cutt the loadestone how you will, still the two poles remaine in that line, which lay vnder the meridian when it was in the earth. And the like is of the touched iron whose vertue still lyeth along the line,5 1.206 which goeth straight (according to the line of the axis) from the point where it was touched, and att the opposite end, constituteth the contrary pole.

The fourth position is, that though the vertue of the loadestone be in the whole body; neuerthelesse, its vertue is more seene in the poles then in any other partes. For by experience it is found that a loadestone of equall bulke, worketh better and more efficaciously if it be in a long forme; then if it be in any other.6 1.207 And from the middle line betwixt the two poles, there cometh no vertue, if an iron be touched there: but any part towardes the pole; the neerer it is to the pole, the greater vertue it imparteth. Lastly; the declination teacheth vs the same; which is so much the stronger by how much it is neerer the pole.

The fift position is, that in the loadestone there are emanations which do issue not only att the poles and about them, but also spherically, round about the whole body, and in an orbe from all partes of the superficies of it; in such sort as happeneth in all other bodies

whatsoeuer. And that these sphericall emanations, are of two kindes; proportionable to the two polar emanations. And that the greatest force of each sort of them is in that hemisphere where the pole is, att which they make their chiefe issue.

The reason of the first part of this position is, because no particular body can be exempt from the lawes of all bodies: and we haue aboue declared that euery physicall body must of necessity haue an orbe of fluours, or a sphere of actiuity about it. The reason of the second part is, that seeing these fluours do proceed out of the very substance and nature of the loadestone, they can not choose but be found of both sortes, in euery part how little soeuer it be, where the nature of the loadestone resideth. The reason of the third part is, that because the polar emanations do tend wholy towardes the poles (each of them to their proper pole) it followeth that in euery hemisphere both those which come from the contrary hemisphere, and those which are bred in the hemisphere they go out att, are all assembled in that hemisphere: and therefore, of necessity it must be stronger in that kind of fluours, then the opposite end is. All which appeareth true in experience: for if a long iron toucheth any part of that hemisphere of a loadestone which tendeth to the north; it gaineth att that end a vertue of tending likewise to the north: and the same will be if an iron but hang close ouer it. And this may be confirmed by a like experience, of an iron barre in respect of the earth which hāging downewardes in any part of our hemisphere, is imbued with the like inclination of drawing towardes the north.7 1.208

The sixt position is, that although euery part of one loadestone do in it selfe agree with euery part of an other loadestone (that is, if each of these partes were diuided from their wholes, and each of them made a whole by it selfe, they might be so ioyned together as they would agree) neuerthelesse, when the partes are in their two wholes, they do not all of them agree together: but of two loadestones, only the poles of the one do agree with the whole body of the other; that is, each pole with any part of the contrary hemisphere of the other loadestone.

The reason of this is, because the fluours which issue out of the stones, are in certaine different degrees in seuerall partes of the entire loadestones; whereby it happeneth that one loadestone can worke by a determinate part of it selfe most powerfully vpon the other, if some determinate part of that other do lye next vnto it; and not so well, if any other part lyeth towardes it. And accordingly experience sheweth that if you putt the pole of a loadestone towardes the middle of a needle that is touched att the point, the middle part of the neddle will turne away,8 1.209 and the end of it will conuert it selfe to the pole of the loadestone.

The seuenth position is, that if a touched needle and a loadestone do come together, and touch one an other in their agreeing partes (whatsoeuer partes of them those be) the line of the needles length will

bend towardes the pole of the stone (excepting, if they touch by the aequator of the stone, and the middle of the needle:) yet not so that if you draw out the line of the needles length, it will go through the pole of the stone; vnlesse they touch by the end of the one, and the pole of the other. But if they touch by the aequator of the one and the middle of the other; then the needle will lye parallele to the axis of the stone.

And the reason of this is manifest, for in that case the two poles being equidistant to the needle they draw it equally; and by consequence the needle must remaine parallele to the axis of the stone. Nor doth it import that the inequality of the two poles of the stone is materially or quantitatiuely greater then the inequality of the two poles of the needle; out of which it may att the first sight seeme to follow, that the stronger pole of the stone should draw the weaker pole of the needle neerer vnto it selfe; then the weaker pole of the stone can be able to draw the stronger pole of the needle: and by consequence that the needle should not lye parallele to the axis of the stone, but should incline somewhat to the stronger pole of it. For after you haue well considered the matter, you will find that the strength of the pole of the stone, can not worke according to its materiall greatnesse, but is confined to worke only according to the susceptibility of the needle: the which, being a slender and thinne body, can not receiue so much as a thicker body may. Wherefore, seeing that the strongest pole of the stone giueth most strength to that pole of the needle, which lyeth furthest from it; it may well happen that this superiority of strength in the pole of the needle that is applyed to the weaker pole of the stone, may counterpoise the excesse of the stronger pole of the stone, ouer its opposite weaker pole; though not in greatnesse and quantity, yet in respect of the vertue which is communicable to the poles of the needle; whereby its comportment to the poles of the stone, is determined. And indeed the needles lying parallele to the axis of the stone when the middle of it sticketh to the aequator of the stone, conuinceth that vpon the whole matter, there is no excesse in the efficacious working of eyther of the stones poles: but that their excesse ouer one an other in regard of themselues, is balanced by the needles receiuing it.

But if the needle happeneth to touch the loadestone in some part neerer one pole then the other; in this case it is manifest that the force of the stone is greater on the one side of the needles touch, then on the other side; because there is a greater quantity of the stone on the one side of the needle then on the other: and by consequence the needle will incline that way which the greater force draweth it; so farre forth as the other part doth not hinder it. Now we know that if the greater part were diuided from the rest, and so were an entire loadestone by it selfe (that is, if the loadestone were cutt of where the needle toucheth it) then the needle would ioyne it selfe to the pole, that is to the end, of that part: and by consequence, would be tending to it, in such sort as a thing

that is sucked tendeth towardes the sucker against the motion or force which cometh from the lesser part: and on the other side the lesser part of the stone which is on the other side of the point which the needle toucheth, must hinder this inclination of the needle according to the proportion of its strength; and so it followeth that the needle will hang by its end, not directly sett to the end of the greater part, but as much inclining towardes it as the lesser part doth not hinder by striuing to pull it the other way. Out of which we gather the true cause of the needles declination, to witt the proportion of working of the two vnequall partes of the stone, betweene which it toucheth and is ioyned to the stone.

And we likewise discouer their errour who iudge that the part which draweth iron is the next pole vnto the iron.9 1.210 For it is rather the contrary pole which attracteth; or to speake more properly it is the whole body of the stone as streaming in lines almost parallele to the axis, from the furthermost end, to the other end which is next to the iron: and (in our case) it is that part of the stone which beginneth from the contrary pole and reacheth to the needle. For besides the light which this discourse gaue vs, experience assureth vs that a loadestone, whose poles lye broad wayes, not long wayes the stone, is more imperfect, and draweth more weakely then if the poles lay longwayes; which would not be if the fluours did streame from all partes of the stone directly to the pole: for then, howsoeuer the stone were cast the whole vertue of it would be in the poles. Moreouer, if a needle were drawne freely, vpon the same meridian frō one pole to the other; as soone as it were passed the aequator it would leape soddainely att the very first remooue off of the aequator, where it is parallele with the axis of the loadestone, from being so parallele, to make an angle with the axis greater then a halfe right one, to the end that it might looke vpon the pole which is supposed to be the only attractiue that draweth the needle: which great change, wrought all att once, nature neuer causeth nor admitteth, but in all actions or motions, vseth to passe through all the mediums whensoeuer it goeth from one extreme to an other. Besides; there would be no variation of the needles aspect towardes the north end of the stone: for if euery part did send its vertue immediately to the poles, it were impossible that any other part whatsoeuer should be stronger then the polar part, seeing that the polar part, had the vertue euen of that particular part, and of all the other partes of the stone besides, ioyned in it selfe.

This therefore is euident; that the vertue of the loadestone goeth from end to end in parallele lines; vnlesse it be in such stones as haue their polar partes narrower then the rest of the body of the stone: for in them, the streame will tend with some little declination towardes the pole, as it were by way of refraction; because without the stone, the fluours from the pole of the earth do coarct themselues, and so do thicken their streame, to croude into the stone as soone as they are

sensible of any emanations from it, that being (as we haue said before) their readyest way to passe along: and within the stone, the streame doth the like to meete the aduenient streame where it is strongest and thickest; which is, att that narrow part of the stones end, which is most prominent out.

10 1.211And by this discourse we discouer likewise an other errour of them, that imagine the loadestone hath a sphere of actiuity round about it, equall on all sides; that is, perfectly sphericall, if the stone be sphericall. Which cleerely is a mistaken speculation: for nature hauing so ordered all her agents that where the strength is greatest, there the action must (generally speaking) extend it selfe furthest off; and it being acknowledged that the loadestone hath greatest strength in its poles and least in the aequator; it must of necessity follow, that it worketh further by its poles then by its aequator. And consequently, it is impossible that its sphere of actiuity should be perfectly sphericall.

Nor doth Cabeus his experience moue vs to conceiue the loadestone hath a greater strength to retayne an iron layed vpon it by its aequator, then by its poles: for to iustify his assertion, he should haue tried it in an iron wyre that were so short, as the poles could not haue any notable operation vpon the endes of it; since otherwise, the force of retayning it, will be attributed to the poles (according to what we haue aboue deliuered) and not to the aequator.

11 1.212The eighth position is; that the intention of nature in all the operations of the loadestone, is to make an vnion betwixt the attractiue and the attracted bodies. Which is euident out of the sticking of them together: as also out of the violence wherewith iron cometh to a loadestone; which when it is drawne by a powerfull one, is so great, that through the force of the blow hitting the stone, it will rebound backe againe, and then fall againe to the stone: and in like manner a needle vpon a pinne, if a loadestone be sett neere it, turneth with so great a force towardes the pole of the stone, that it goeth beyond it, and coming backe againe, the celerity wherewith it moueth maketh it retire it selfe too farre on the other side; and so by many vndulations, att the last it cometh to rest directly opposite to the pole. Likewise, by the declination; by meanes of which, the iron to the stone, or the stone to the earth, approacheth in such a disposition as is most conuenient to ioyne the due endes together. And lastly, out of the flying away of the contrary endes from one an other: which clearely is to no other purpose, but that the due endes may come together. And in generall; there is no doubt but ones going to an other, is instituted by the order of nature for their coming together, and for their being together, which is but a perseue∣rance of their coming together.

12 1.213The nineth position is, that the nature of a loadestone doth not sinke deeply into the maine body of the earth, as to haue the substance of its whole body, be magneticall; but only remayneth neere the surface

of it. And this is euident by the inequality in vertue of the two endes; for if this magnetike vertue were the nature of the whole body, both endes would be equally strong. Nor would the disposition of one of the endes, be different from the disposition of the other. Againe, there could be no variation of the tending towardes the north: for the bulke of the whole body would haue a strength so eminently greater, then the prominences and disparities of hils or seas; as the varieties of these would be absolutely insensible. Againe; if the motion of the loadestone came from the body of the earth, it would be perpetually from the center, and not from the poles; and so, there could be no declination, more in one part of the earth, then in an other. Nor would the loadestone tend from north to south, but from the center to the circumference; or rather from the circumference to the center.

And so we may learne the difference between the loadestone and the earth in their attractiue operations; to witt, that the earth doth not receiue its influence from an other body, nor doth its magnetike vertue depend of an other magnetike agent, that impresseth it into it: which neuerthelesse, is the most remarkable condition of a loadestone. Againe the strongest vertue of the loadestone, is from pole to pole: but the strongest vertue of the earth, is from the center vpwardes, as appeareth by fireforkes gaining a much greater magnetike strength in a short time, then a loadestone in a longer. Neyther can it be thence obiected, that the loadestone should therefore receiue the earthes influences more strongly from the centerwardes, then from the poles of the earth, (which by its operation, and what we haue discoursed of it, is certaine it doth not;) since the beds where loadestones lye and are formed be towardes the bottome of that part or barke of the earth which is imbued with magnetike vertue. Againe, this vertue which we see in a loadestone, is substantiall to it; whereas the like vertue is but accidentall to the earth, by meanes of the sunnes drawing the northerne and souththerne exhalations to the aequator.

The last positiō is,13 1.214 that the loadestone must be found ouer all the earth, and in euery country. And so we see it is: both because iron mines are found (in some measure) almost in all countries: and because, att the least other sortes of earth (as we haue declared of pottearths) can not be wanting in any large extent of country; which when they are baked and cooled in due positions, haue this effect of the loadestone, and are of the nature of it. And Docteur Gilbert sheweth, that the loadestone is nothing else but the oore of steele or of perfectest iron; and that it is to be found of all colours, and fashions, and almost of all consistences.

So that we may easily conceiue,14 1.215 that the emanations of the loadestone being euery where, as well as the causes of grauity; the two motions of magnetike thinges and of weighty thinges, do both of them deriue their origine from the same source; I meane, from the very same emanations coming from the earth; which by a diuers ordination of nature, do make

this effect in the loadestone, and that other in weighty thinges. And who knoweth but that a like sucking to this which we haue shewed in magnetike thinges, passeth also in the motion of grauity? In a wold; grauity beareth a faire testimony in the behalfe of the magnetike fo••ce; and the loadestones working, returneth no meane verdict for the causes of grauity, according to what we haue deliuered of them.

THE TWO AND TWENTIETH CHAPTER. A solution of certaine Problemes concerning the loadestone, and as hort summe of the whole doctrine touching it.

OVt of what is said vpon this subiect, we may proceed to the solution of certaine questions or problemes,1 1.216 which are or may be made in this matter. And first, of that which Doctour Gilbert disputeth against all former writers of the loadestone; to witt which is the North, and which the South pole of a stone? Which seemeth vnto me, to be only a question of the name: for if by the name of north and south, we vnders••ād that end of the stone which hath that vertue that the north or south pole of the earth haue▪ then it is certaine, that the end of the stone which looketh to the south pole of the earth, is to be called the north pole of the loadestone; and conrrariwise, that which looketh to the north, is to be called the south pole of it. But if by the names of north and south pole of the stone, you meane those endes of it, that lye and point to the north and to the south poles of the earth; then you must reckon their poles contrariwise to the former account. So that the termes being once defined, there will remaine no further controuersye about this point.

Doctor Gilbert seemeth also to haue an other controuersy with all writers; to witt whether any bodies besides magneticall ones, be attractiue?2 1.217 Which he seemeth to deny; all others to affirme. But this also being fairely putt, will peraduenture proue no controuersy: for the question is eyther in common, of attraction; or else in particular, of such an attraction as is made by the loadestone. Of the first part, there can be no doubt; as we haue declared aboue; and as is manifest betwixt gold and quickesiluer, when a man holding gold in his mouth, it draweth vnto it the quickesiluer that is in his body. But for the attractiue to draw a body vnto it selfe, not wholy, but one determinate part of the body drawne, vnto one determine part of the drawer; is an attraction which for my part I can not exemplify in any other bodies but magne∣ticall ones.

A third question is,3 1.218 whether an iron that standeth long time vnmoued in a window, or any other part of a building, perpendicularly to the earth, doth contract a magneticall vertue of drawing or pointing towardes the north in that end which looketh downewardes. For Cabeus (who wrote since Gilbert) affirmeth it out of experience: but eyther his experiment or his expression was defectiue. For assuredly if the iron standeth so, in the northerne hemisphere, it will turne to the north; and if in the southerne hemisphere; it will turne to the south: for seeing the vertue of the loadestone proceedeth from the earth, and that the earth hath different tempers towardes the north, and towardes the south pole (as hath beene already declared) the vertue which cometh out of the earth in the northerne hemisphere, will giue vnto the end of the iron next it an inclination to the north pole; and the earth of the southerne hemisphere will yield the contrary disposition vnto the end which is neerest it.

The next question is, why a loadestone seemeth to loue iron better then it doth an other loadestone?4 1.219 The answere is, because iron is indifferent in all its partes to receiue the impression of a loadestone; whereas an other loadestone receiueth it only in a determinate part: and therefore a loadestone draweth iron more easily then it can an other loadestone; because it findeth repugnance in the partes of an other loadestone, vnlesse it be exactly situated in a right position. Besides, iron seemeth to be compared to a loadestone, like as a more humide body to a dryer of the same nature; and the difference of male and female sexes in animals do manifestly shew the great appetence of coniunction between moysture and drynesse, when they belong to bodies of the same species.

An other question,5 1.220 is that great one; why a loadestone capped with steele, taketh vp more iron then it would do if it were without that capping? An other conclusion like vnto this, is that if by a loadestone you take vp an iron, and by that iron a second iron, and then you pull away the second iron; the first iron (in some position) will leaue the loadestone to sticke vnto the second iron, as long as the second iron is within the sphere of the loadestones actiuity; but if you remoue the second out of that sphere, then the first iron remaining within it, though the other be out of it, will leaue the second, and leape backe to the loadestone. To the same purpose, is this other conclusion; that the greater the iron is, which is entirely within the compasse of the loadestones vertue, the more strongly the loadestone will be moued vnto it; and the more forcibly it will sticke to it.

The reasons of all these three, wee must giue att once; for they hang all vpon one string. And in my conceite neyther Gilbert nor Galileo haue hitt vpon the right. As for Gilbert; he thinketh that in iron there is originally the vertue of the loadestone; but that it is as it were a sleepe vntill by the touch of the loadestone it be awaked and sett on worke:

and therefore the vertue of both ioyned together, is greater then the vertue of the loadestone alone.

But if this were the reason, the vertue of the iron would be greater in euery regard, and not only in sticking or in taking vp: whereas himselfe confesseth, that a capped stone draweth no further, then a naked stone, nor hardly so farre. Besides, it would continue its vertue out of the sphere of actiuity of the loadestone, which it doth not. Againe; seeing that if you compare them seuerally, the vertue of the loadestone is greater, then the vertue of the iron; why should not the middle iron sticke closer to the stone then to the further iron which must of necessity haue lesse vertue?

6 1.221Galileo yieldeth the cause of this effect, that when an iron toucheth an iron, there are more partes which touch one an other, then when a loadestone toucheth the iron: both because the loadestone, hath generally much impurity in it, and therefore diuers partes of it haue no vertue; whereas iron, by being melted hath all its partes pure: and secondly, because iron can be smoothed and polisked more then a loadestone can be: and therefore its superficies toucheth in a manner with all its partes; whereas diuers partes of the stones superficies can not touch, by reason of its ruggednesse.

And he confirmeth his opinion by experience: for if you putt the head of a needle to a barestone, and the point of it to an iron; and then plucke away the iron; the needle will leaue the iron, and sticke to the stone: but if you turne the needle the other way, it will leaue the stone and sticke to the iron. Out of which he inferreth that it is the multitude of partes, which causeth the close and strong sticking. And it seemeth he found the same in the capping of his loadestones: for he vsed flatt irons for that purpose; which by their whole plane did take vp other irons: whereas Gilbert capped his with cōuexe irons; which not applying themselues to other iron, so strongly or with so many partes as Galileos did, would not by much take vp so great weightes as his.

Neuerthelesse, it seemeth not to me that his answere is sufficient, or that his reasons conuince; for we are to consider that the vertue which he putteth in the iron must (according to his owne supposition) proceed from the loadestone: and then, what importeth it, whether the superficies of the iron which toucheth an other iron, be so exactly plaine or no? Or that the partes of it be more solide then the partes of the stone? For all this conduceth nothing to make the vertue greater then it was: since no more vertue can go from one iron to the other, then goeth from the loadestone to the first iron: and if this vertue can not tye the first iron to the loadestone; it can not proceed out of this vertue that the second iron be tyed to the first. Againe; if a paper be putt betwixt the cappe and an other iron, it doth not hinder the magneticall vertue from passing through it to the iron; but the vertue of taking vp more weight then the naked stone was able to do, is thereby rendered quite vselesse.

Therefore it is euident, that this vertue must be putt in something else, and not in the application of the magneticall vertue.

And to examine his reasons particularly, it may very well fall out that whatsoeuer the cause be, the point of a needle may be too little to make an exact experience in; and therefore a new doctrine ought not lightly be grounded vpon what appeareth in the application of that. And likewise, the greatnesse of the surfaces of the two irons, may be a condition helpefull to the cause whatsoeuer it be: for greater and lesser, are the common conditions of all bodies, and therefore do auayle all kindes of corporeall causes; so that, no one cause can be affirmed more then an other, meerely out of this that great doth more, and little doth lesse.

To come then to our owne solution:7 1.222 I haue considered, how fi•••• hath in a manner the same effect in iron, as the vertue of the loadestone hath by meanes of the cappe: for I find that fire coming through iron red glowing hoat, will burne more strongly, then if it should come immediately through the ayre; as also we see that in pittecoale the fire is stronger then in charcoale. And neuerthelesse, the fire will heat further if it come immediately from the source of it, then if it come through a red iron that burneth more violently where it toucheth; and likewise charcoale will heat further then pittcoale, that neere hand burneth more fiercely. In the same manner, the loadestone will draw further without a cappe then with one; but with a cappe it sticketh faster then without one. Whence I see that it is not purely the vertue of the loadestone; but the vertue of it being in iron; which causeth this effect.

Now this modification, may proceed eyther from the multitude of partes which come out of the loadestone, and are as it were stopped in the iron; and so the sphere of their actiuity becometh shorter but stronger: or else from some quality of the iron ioyned to the influence of the loadestone. The first seemeth not to giue a good account of the effect; for why should a little paper take it away, seeing we are sure that it stoppeth not the passage of the loadestones influence? Againe; the influence of the loadestone, seemeth in its motion to be of the nature of light, which goeth in an insensible time as farre as it can reach: and therefore, were it multiplyed in the iron, it would reach further then without it; and from it, the vertue of the loadestone would beginne a new sphere of actiuity. Therefore, we more willingly cleaue to the latter part of our determination.

And there vpon enquiring what quality there is in iron, whence this effect may follow; we find that it is distinguished from a loadestone, as a mettall is from a stone. Now we know that mettalls haue generally more humidity then stones; and we haue discoursed aboue, that humidity is the cause of sticking▪ especially when it is little and dense. These qualities must needes be in the humidity of iron: which of all

mettalls is the most terrestriall: and such humidity as is able to sticke to the influence of the loadestone, as it passeth through, the body of the iron, must be exceeding subtile and small; and it seemeth necessary that such humidity should sticke to the influence of the loadestone, when it meeteth with it, considering that the influence is of it selfe dry and that the nature of iron is akinne to the loadestone: wherefore, the humidity of the one, and the drought of the other, will not faile of incorporating together. Now then, if two irons, well polished and plaine, be vnited by such a glew as resulteth out of this composition, there is a manifest appearance of much reason for them to sticke strongly together. This is confirmed by the nature of iron in very cold countries and very cold weather: for the very humidity of the ayre in times of frost, will make vpon iron, sooner then vpon other thinges, such a sticking glew as will pull off the skinne of a mans hand that toucheth it hard.

And by this discourse, you will perceiue that Galileos arguments do confirme our opinion as well as his owne; and that according to our doctrine, all circumstances must fall out iust as they do in his experiences. And the reason is cleare why the interposition of an other body, hindereth the strong sticking of iron to the cappe of the loade∣stone; for it maketh the mediation between them greater, which we haue shewed to be the generall reason why thinges are easily parted.

Lett vs then proceed to the resolution of the other cases proposed. The second is already resolued: for if this glew be made of the influence of the loadestone, it can not haue force further then the loadestone it selfe hath: and so farre, it must haue more force, then the bare influence of the loadestone. Or rather the humidity of two irons maketh the glew of a fitter temper to hold, then that which is betweene a dry loadestone and iron; and the glew entereth better when both sides are moist, then when only one is so.

8 1.223But this resolution though it be in part good, yet it doth not euacuate the whole difficulty, since the same case happeneth betweene a stronger and a weaker loadestone, as betweene a loadestone and iron: for the weaker loadestone, whilst it is, within the sphere of actiuity of the greater loadestone, draweth away an iron sett betwixt them as well as a second iron doth. For the reason therefore of the little loadestones drawing away the iron, we may consider that the greater loadestone hath two effects vpon the iron, which is betwixt it and a lesser loadestone, and a third effect vpon the little loadestone it selfe. The first is that it impregnateth the iron, and giueth it a permanent vertue by which it worketh like a weake loadestone. The second is, that as it maketh the iron worke towardes the lesser loadestone by its permanent vertue; so also it accompanyeth the steame that goeth from the iron towardes the little loadestone with its owne steame, which goeth the same way: so that both these steames do in company clymbe vp the steame of the little loadestone which meeteth them; and that steame

clymbeth vp the enlarged one of both theirs together. The third effect which the greater loadestone worketh, is that it maketh the steame of the little loadestone become stronger by augmenting its innate vertue in some degree.

Now then, the going of the iron to eyther of the loadestones, must follow the greater and quicker coniunction of the two meeting steames, and not the greatnesse of one alone. So that if the coniunction of the two steames between the iron and the little loadestone be greater and quicker then the coniunction of the two steames which meete between the greater loadestone and the iron, the iron must sticke to the lesser loadestone. And this must happen more often then otherwise: for the steame which goeth from the iron to the greater loadestone will for the most part be lesse then the steame which goeth from the lesser loadestone to the iron. And though the other steame be neuer so great yet it can not draw more then according to the proportion of its Antagonists coming from the iron. Wherefore seeing the two steames betwixt the iron and the little loadestone, are more proportionable to one an other, and the steame coming out of the little loadestone is notably greater, then the steame going from the iron to the greater loadestone; the coniunction must be made for the most part to the little loadestone. And if this discourse doth not hold in the former part of the Probleme betwixt a second iron and a loadestone, it is supplyed by the former reason which we gaue for that particular purpose.

The third case dependeth also of this solution▪ for the bigger an iron is, so many more partes it hath to sucke vp the influence of the loade∣stone; and consequently, doth it thereby the more greedily: and there∣fore the loadestone must be carried to it more violently, and when they are ioyned,9 1.224 sticke more strongly.

The sixt question is, why the variations of the needle from the true north, in the northerne hemisphere, are greater, the neerer you go to the Pole, and lesser the neerer you approach to the Aequator. The reason whereof is plaine in our doctrine; for, considering that the magnetike vertue of the earth, streameth from the north towardes the aequator; it followeth of necessity, that if there be two streames of magnetike fluours issuing from the north, one of them, precisely from the pole, and the other from a part of the earth neere the pole; and that the streame coming from the point by side the pole, be but a little the stronger of the two; there will appeare very little differencies in their seuerall operations, after they haue had a long space to mingle their emanations together; which thereby do ioyne, and grow as it were into one streame. Whereas the neerer you come to the pole, the more you will find them seuered, and each of them working by its owne vertue. And very neere the point which causeth the variation, each streame worketh singly by it selfe; and therefore here, the point of variation must be master, and will

carry the needle strongly vnto his course from the due north, if his streame be neuer so little more efficacious then the other.

Againe; a line drawne from a point of the earth wyde of the pole, to a point of the meridian neere the aequator, maketh a lesse angle, then a line drawne from the same point of the earth to a point of the same meridian neerer the pole: wherefore, the variation being esteemed by the quantities of the said angles, it must needes be greater neere the pole, then neere the aequator, though the cause be the same.

Which a little figure will presently explicate. Lett the point A, be

[illustration]

the pole; and the line AB, the meridian; and the point B, the intersection of it, with a parallele neere the aequator; and the point C, the intersection of the meridian with the Tropike; and D, a point in the earth neere the pole, vnto which in the said intersection the needle tendeth, in steed of looking directly to the pole, whereby it maketh variation from due north. I say then, thar the variation of a needle neere the aequator in the point B, looking vpon the point D; can not be so great and sensible, as the variation of a needle in the Tropike C, looking vpon the same point; since the angle DBA, which is made by the variation of the first, is lesse then the angle DCA, which is made by the variation of the latter needle, neerer the pole.

But because it may happen, that in the partes neere the aequator, the variation may proceed from some piece of land, not much more northerly then where the needle is; but that beareth rather easterly or westerly from it; and yet Gilberts assertion goeth vniuersally, when he sayth the variations in southerne regions are lesse, then in northerne ones: we must examine what may be the reason thereof. And presently the generation of the loadestone sheweth it plainely: for seeing the nature of the loadestone proceedeth out of this, that the sunne worketh more vpon the torride zone, then vpon the poles; and that his too strong operation, is contrary to the loadestone, as being of the nature of fire; it followeth euidently that the landes of the torride zone can not be so magneticall (generally speaking) as the polar landes are; and by conse∣quence that a lesser land neere the pole, will haue a greater effect, then a larger continent neere the aequator: and likewise a land further off towardes the pole, will worke more strongly then a neerer land which lyeth towardes the aequator.10 1.225

The seuenth question is, whether in the same part of the world a touched needle may att one time vary more from the true north point, and att an other time lesse? In which Gilbert was resolute for the nega∣tiue part: but our latter Mathematiciens are of an other mind. Three experiences were made neere London in three diuers yeares. The two first, 42 yeares distant from one an other; and the third 12 yeares distant from the second. And by them it is found that in the space of 54 yeares,

he loadestone hath att London diminished his variation from the north, the quantity of 7 degrees and more. But so that in the latter yeares the diminution hath sensibly gone faster then in the former.

These obseruations peraduenture are but little credited by strangers; but we who know the worth of the men that made them, can not mistrust any notable errour in them: for they were very able mathematicians, and they made their obseruations with very greate exactnesse; and there were seuerall iuditious wittnesses att the making of them; as may be seene in M^r. Gillebrand his print concerning this subiect. And diuers other particular persons do confirme the same▪ whose creditt, though each single might peraduenture be slighted, yet all in body make a great accession.

We must therefore cast about to find what may be the cause of an effect so paradoxe to the rest of the doctrine of the loadestone: for seeing that no one place, can stand otherwise to the north of the earth att one time then att an other; how is it possible that the needle should receiue any new variation, since all variation proceedeth out of the inequality of the earth? But when we consider that this effect proceedeth not out of the maine body of the earth; but only out of the barke of it; and that its barke, may haue diuers tempers not as yet discouered vnto vs; and that out of the variety of these tempers, the influence of the earthy partes may be diuers in respect of one certaine place; it is not impossible but that such variation may be; especially in England: which Iland lying open to the north, by a great and vast ocean; may receiue more particularly then other places, the speciall influences and variation of the weather, that happen in those northeasterne countries from whence this influence cometh vnto vs. If therefore there should be any course of weather, whose periode were a hundred yeares (for example) or more or lesse, and so might easily passe vnmarked; this variation might grow out of such a course.

But in so obscure a thing, we haue already hazarded to guesse too much. And vpon the whole matter of the loadestone, it serueth our turne, if we haue proued (as we conceiue we haue done fully) that its motions which appeare so admirable, do not proceed from an occult quality; but that the causes of them may be reduced vnto locall motion; and that all they may be performed by such corporeall instruments and meanes (though peraduenture more intricately disposed) as all other effects are among bodies. Whose ordering and disposing and particular progresse, there is no reason to despaire of finding out; would but men carefully apply themselues to that worke, vpon solide principles and with diligent experiences.

But because this matter hath beene very long,11 1.226 and scatteringly diffused in many seuerall branches; peraduenture it will not be displeasing to the Reader to see the whole nature of the loadestone summed vp in short. Lett him then cast his eyes vpon one effect of it, that is very easy to

be tryed and is acknowledged by all writers; though we haue not as yet mentioned it. And it is, that a knife drawne from the pole of a loadestone towardes the aequator, if you hold the point towardes the pole, it gaineth a respect to one of the poles: but contrawise, if the point of the knife be held towardes the aequator, and be thrust the same way it was drawne before (that is, towardes the aequator) it gaineth a respect towardes the contrary pole.

It is euident out of this experience, that the vertue of the loadestone is communicated by way of streames; and that in it, there are two contrary streames: for otherwise the motion of the knife this w••y or that way, could not change the efficacity of the same partes of the loadestone. It is likewise euident, that these contrary streames, do come from the conrrary endes of the loadestone. As also, that the vertues, of them both, are in euery part of the stone. Likewise that one loadestone, must of necessity turne certaine partes of it selfe, to certaine partes of an other loadestone; nay that it must goe and ioyne to it, according to the lawes of attraction which we haue aboue deliuered: and consequently that they must turne their disagreeing partes away from one an other; and so, one loadestone seeme to fly from an other, if they be so applyed that their disagreeing partes be kept still next to one an other: for in this case, the disagreeing and the agreeing partes of the same loadestone, being in the same straight line; one loadestone seeking to draw his agreeing part neere to that part of the other loadestone which agreeth with him, must of necessity turne away his disagreeing partes to giue way vnto his agreeing part to approach neerer.

And thus you see that the flying from one an other of two endes of two loadestones, which are both of the same denomination (as for example the two south endes, or the two north endes) doth not proceed from a pretended antipathy between those two endes, but from the attraction of the agreeing endes.

Furthermore, the earth, hauing to a loadestone the nature of a loadestone; it followeth that a loadestone must necessarily turne it selfe to the poles of the earth by the same lawes. And consequently, must tend to the north, must vary from the north, must incline towardes the center, and must be affected with all such accidents as we haue deduced of the loadestone.

And lastly; seeing that iron is to a loadestone, a fitt matter for it to impresse its nature in, and easily retaineth that magnetike vertue; the same effects that follow betweē two loadestones, must necessarily follow between a loadestone, and a peece of iron fittly proportionated in their degrees: excepting some litle particularities, which proceed out of the naturalnesse of the magnetike vertue to a loadestone, more then to iron.

And thus you see the nature of the loadestone summed vp in grosse; the particular ioyntes and causes whereof, you may find treated att large in the maine discourse. Wherein we haue gouerned our selues

chiefely by the experiences that are recorded by Gilbert and Cabeus; to whom, we remitt our reader for a more ample declaration of particulars.

THE THREE AND TWENTIETH CHAPTER. A description of the two sortes of liuing creatures; Plants, and Animals: and how they are framed in common to performe vitall motion.

HItherto we haue endeauoured to follow by a continuall thridde,1 1.227 all such effects as we haue mett with among bodies, and to trace thē in all their windinges, and to driue them vp to their very roote and originall source: for the nature of our subiect hauing beene yet very common, hath not exceeded the compasse and power of our search and enquiry, to descend vnto the chiefe circumstances and particulars belonging vnto it. And indeede, many of the conueyances whereby the operations we haue discoursed of, are performed, be so secret and abstruse, as they that looke into them with lesse heedefullnesse and iudgment then such a matter requireth, are too apt to impute them to mysterious causes aboue the reach of humane nature to comprehēd, and to calumniate them of being wrought by occult and specifike qualities; whereof no more reason could be giuen, then if the effects were infused by Angelicall handes without assistance of inferiour bodies: which vseth to be the last refuge of ignorant men, who not knowing what to say, and yet presuming to say something, do fall often vpon such expressiōs, as neyther themselues nor their hearers vnderstand; and that if they be well scanned, do imply contradictions Therefore we deemed it a kind of necessity to straine ourselues to prosecute most of such effects, euen to their notionall connexions with rarity and density. And the rather because it hath not been our lucke yet to meet with any that hath had the like designe, or hath done any considerable matter to ease our paines. Which can not but make the readers iourney somewhat tedious vnto him to follow all our stepps, by reason of the ruggednesse, and vntrodenesse of the pathes we haue walked in.

But now the effects we shall hence forward meedle withall, do grow so particular, and do swarme into such a vast multitude of seuerall little ioyntes, and wreathy labyrinthes of nature, as were impossible in so summary a treatise, as we intend, to deliuer the causes of euery one of them exactly; which would require, both large discourses and aboun∣dance of experiences to acquitt our selues as we ought of such a taske. Nor is there a like neede of doing it as formerly, for as much as concerneth our designe; since the causes of them are palpably materiall, and the admirable artifice of them, consisteth only in the Daedalean and wunderfull ingenious ordering and ranging them one with an other.

We shall therefore entreat our Reader from this time forwardes to expect only the common sequele of those particular effects, out of the principles already layed. And when some shall occurre, that may peraduenture seeme att the first sight to be enacted immediately by a vertue spirituall, and that proceedeth indiuisibly, in a different straine from the ordinary processes which we see in bodies and in bodily thinges (that is by the vertues of rarity and density, working by locall motion) we hope he will be satisfyed att our handes, if we lay downe a methode, and trace out a course, whereby such euents and operations may follow out of the principles we haue layed. Though peraduenture we shall not absolutely conuince that euery effect is done iust as we sett it downe in euery particular, and that it may not as well be done by some other disposing of partes, vnder the same generall scope: for it is enough for our turne if we shew that such effects may be performed by corporeall agents, working as other bodies do; without confining ourselues to an exactnesse in euery linke of the long chaine that must be wound vp in the performance of them.

2 1.228To come then to the matter; the next thing we are to employ ourselues about, now that we haue explicated the natures of those motions by meanes whereof bodies are made and destroyed; and in which they are to be considered chiefely as passiue, whiles some exteriour agent working vpon them causeth such alterations in them, and bringeth them to such passe as wee see in the changes that are dayly wrought among substances; is, to take a suruay of those motions which some bodies haue, wherein they seeme to be not so much patients as agents; and do containe with in themselues the principle of their owne motion; and haue no relation to any outward obiect, more then to stirre vp that principle of motion, and sett it on worke: which when it is once in act, hath as it were within the limits of its owne kingdome, and seuered from commerce with all other bodies whatsoeuer, many other subalterne motions ouer which it presideth.

To which purpose we may consider that among the compounded bodies whose natures we haue explicated; there are some, in whom the partes of different complexions are so small and so well mingled together, that they make a compound, which to our sense seemeth to be all of it quite through, of one homogeneous nature; and howsoeuer it be diuided, each part retaineth the entire and cōplete nature of the whole. Others againe there are, in which it is easy to discerne that the whole is made vp of seuerall great partes of very differing natures and tēpers.

And of these, there are two kindes: the one, of such, as their differing partes seeme to haue no relation to one an other, or correspondence together to performe any particular worke, in which all of them are necessary; but rather they seeme to be made what they are, by chance and by accident; and if one part be seuered from an other, each is an entire thing by it selfe, of the same nature as it was in the whole; and no

harmony is destroyed by such diuision. As may be obserued in some bodies digged out of mines, in which one may see lūpes of mettall, oore, stone, and glasse, and such different substances, in their seuerall distinct situations, perfectly compacted into one continuate body; which if you diuide, the glasse remaineth what it was before, the Emerald is still an Emerald, the syluer is good syluer, and the like of the other subs••āces: the causes of which, may be easily deduced out of what we haue formerly said. But there are other bodies in which this manifest and notable diffe∣rence of partes, carrieth with it such a subordinatiō of one of them vnto an other; as we can not doubt but that nature made such engines (if so I may call them) by designe; and intended that this variety should be in one thing; whose vnity and being what it is, should depend of the harmony of the seuerall differing partes, and should be destroyed by their seperation. As we see in liuing creatures; whose particular partes and members being once seuered there is no longer a liuing creature to be found among them.

Now of this kind of bodies,3 1.229 there are two sortes. The first is of those that seeme to be one continuate substance, wherein we may obserue one and the same constant progresse throughout, from the lowest vnto the highest part of it; so that, the operation of one part is not att all different from that of an other: but the whole body seemeth to be the course and through fare of one constant action, varying it selfe in diuers occasions, and occurrences, according to the disposition of the subiect.

The bodies of the secōd sort, haue their partes so notably seperated one frō the other; and each of them haue such a peculiar motion proper vnto them, that one might conceiue they were eue••y one of them a complete distinct totall thing by it selfe, and that all of them were artificially tyed together; were it not, that the subordination of these partes to one an other is so great, and the correspondence betweene them so strict, (the one not being able to subsist without the other, from whom he deriueth what is needefull for him; and againe being so vsefull vnto that other and hauing its action and motion so fitting and necessary for it, as without it that other can not be;) as plainely conuinceth that the compound of all these senerall partes must needes be one indiuiduall thing.

I remember that when I trauailed in spaine, I saw there two engines that in some sort do expresse the natures of these two kindes of bodies.4 1.230 The one att Toledo, the other att Segouia: both of them sett on worke by the current of the riuer, in which the foundation of their machine was layed. That att Toledo, was to force vp water a great hieght from the riuer Tagus to the Alcazar (the King his pallace) that standeth vpon a high steepe hill or rocke, almost perpendicular ouer the riuer. In the bottome, there was an indented wheele, which turning round with the streame, gaue motion att the same time to the whole engine: which consisted of a multitude

of little troughes or square ladles sett one ouer an other, in two parallele rowes ouer against one an other, from the bottome to the toppe, and vpon two seuerall diuided frames of tymber. These troughes were closed att one end with a trauerse bord to retaine the water from running out there; which end being bigger then the rest of the trough, made it somewhat like a ladle: and the rest of it, seemed to be the handle with a channell in it, the little end of which channell or trough was open to lett the water passe freely away. And these troughes were fastened by an axeltree in the middle of them, to the frame of tymber that went from the bottome vp to the toppe: so that they could vpon that center moue att liberty eyther the shutt end downewardes, or the open end; like the beame of a ballance.

Now att a certaine position of the roote wheele (if so I may call it) all one side of the machine sunke downe a little lower towardes the water, and the other was raised a little higher. Which motion was changed, as soone as the ground wheele had ended the remnant of his reuolution: for then, the side th••t was lowest before, sprung vp, and the other sunke downe. And thus, the two sides of the machine, were like two legges that by turnes trode the water; as in the vintage, men presse grapes in a watte. Now the troughes that were fastened to the tymber which descended, turned that part of them downewardes which was like a boxe shutt to hold the water: and consequently, the open end was vp in the ayre, like the arme of the ballance vnto which the lightest scale is fastened: and in the meane time, the troughes vpon the ascēding timber, were moued by a contrary motion; keeping their boxe endes aloft, and letting the open endes incline downewardes: so that if any water were in them, it would lett it runne out; whereas the others retained any that came into them.

When you haue made an image of this machine in your fantasie, cōsider what will follow out of its motion. You will perceiue that when one legge sinketh downe towardes the water, that trough which is next to the superficies of it, putting downe his boxe end, and dipping it a little in the water; must needes bring vp as much as it can retaine, when that legge ascendeth: which when it is att its height, the trough moueth vpon his owne center; and the boxe end, which was lowest, becometh now highest, and so the water runneth out of it. Now the other legge descending att the same time; it falleth out that the trough on its side, which would be a steppe aboue that which hath the water in it, if they stood in equilibrity, becometh now a steppe lower then it: and is so placed, that the water which runneth out of that which is aloft, falleth into the head or boxe of it; which no sooner hath receiued it, but that legge on which it is fastened, springeth vp, and the other descendeth: so that the water of the second legge, runneth now into the boxe of the first legge, that is next aboue that which first laded the water out of the riuer. And thus, the troughes of the two legges deliuer their water by

turnes from one side to the other; and att euery remooue, it getteth a steppe vpwardes, till it cometh to the toppe; whiles att euery ascent and descent of the whole side, the lowest ladle or trough taketh new water from the riuer; which ladefull followeth immediately in its ascent, that which was taken vp the time before. And thus, in a little while, all the troughes from the bottome to the toppe are full; vnlesse there happen to be some failing in some ladle: and in that case the water breaketh out there; and all the ladles aboue that, are dry.

The other engine,5 1.231 or rather multitude of seuerall engines, to performe sundry different operations, all conducing to one worke (whereas, that of Toledo, is but one tenour of motion, from the first to the last;) is in the minte at Segouia. Which is so artificially made, that one part of it, distendeth an ingott of siluer or gold into that breadth and thicknesse as is requisite to make coyne of. Which being done, it deliuereth the plate it hath wrought, vnto an other that printeth the figure of the coyne vpon it. And from thence it is turned ouer to an other that cutteth it according to the print, into due shape and weight. And lastly, the seuerall peeces fall into a reserue, in an other roome; where the officer, whose charge it is, findeth treasure ready coyned; without any thing there, to informe him of the seuerall different motions that the siluer or the gold passed before they came to that state. But if he goe on the other side of the wall, into the roome where the other machines stand and are att worke, he will then discerne that euery one of them, which considered by it selfe might seeme a distinct complete engine, is but a seruing part of the whole; whose office is, to make money: and that for this worke, any one of them seperated from the rest, ceaseth to be the part of a minte, and the whole is maymed and destroyed.

Now lett vs apply the consideration of these different kindes of engines,6 1.232 to the natures of the bodies we treate of. Which I doubt not, would fitt much better, were they liuely and exactly described. But it is so long since I saw them, and I was then so very young, that I retaine but a confufed and clowdy remembrance of them: especially of the minte att Segouia, in the which there are many more particulars then I haue touched; as conueniency for refining the oore or mettall; and then casting it into ingots; and driuing them into roddes; and such like: vnto all which, there is little helpe of handes requisite, more then to apply the matter duly att the first. But what I haue said of them, is enough to illustrate what I ayme att: and though I should erre in the particulars, it is no great matter; for I intend not to deliuer the history of them: but only out of the remembrance of such note full and artificiall Masterpeeces, to frame a modell in their fancies that shall reade this, of something like them; whereby they may with more ease, make a right conception of what we are handling.

Thus then all sortes of plants, both great and small, may be compared to our first engine of the waterworke att Toledo, for in them, all the

motion we can discerne, is of one part transmitting vnto the next to it, the iuice which it receiued from that immediately before it: so that it hath one constant course from the roote (which sucketh it from the earth) vnto the toppe of the highest sprigge: in which, if it should be intercepted and stopped by any mayming of the barke (the channell it ascendeth by) it would there breake out and turne into droppes, or gumme, or some such other substance as the nature of the plant requireth: and all that part of it vnto which none of this iuice can ascend would drye and wither and grow dead.

But sensible liuing creatures, we may fittly compare to the second machine of the minte att Segouia. For in them, though euery part and member, be as it were a complete thing of it selfe, yet euery one, requireth to be directed and putt on in its motion by an other; and they must all of them (though of very different natures and kindes of motion) conspire together to effect any thing that may be, for the vse and seruice of the whole. And thus we find in them perfectly the nature of a mouer and a moueable; each of them mouing differently from one an other, and framing to themselues their owne motions, in such sort as is most agreeable to their nature, when that part which setteth them on worke hath stirred them vp.

And now because these partes (the mouers, and the moued) are partes of one whole; we call the entire thing Automatum or se mouens; or a liuing creature. Which also may be fittly compared to a ioyner, or a painter, or other crafte••man, that had his tooles so exactly fitted about him, as when he had occasion to do any thing in his trade, his toole for that action were already in the fittest positiō for it, to be made vse of; so as without remouing himselfe frō the place where he might sitt enuironed with his tooles, he might, by only pulling of some little chordes, eyther apply the matter to any remote toole, or any of his tooles to the matter he would worke vpon, according as he findeth the one or the other more conuenient for performance of the action he intendeth.

Whereas in the other, there is no variety of motions; but one and the same, goeth quite through the body frō one end of it to the other. And the passage of the moysture through it, from one part to an other next (which is all the motion it hath) is in a manner but like the rising of water in a stille, which by heate is made to creepe vp by the sides of the glasse; and from thence runneth through the nose of the limb••ke, and falleth into the receiuer. So that, if we will say that a plant liueth, or that the whole moueth it selfe, and euery part moueth other; it is to be vnderstood in a farre more imperfect manner, then when we speake of an animall: and the same wordes are attributed to both, in a kind of aequiuocall sense. But by the way I must note, that vnder the title of plants I include not zoophytes or plantanimals: that is such creatures as though they goe not from place to place, and so cause a locall motion of their whole substance, yet in their partes, they haue a distinct and articu∣late motion.

But to leaue comparisons,7 1.233 and come to the proper nature of the thinges: lett vs frame a conception, that not farre vnder the superficies of the earth, there were gathered together diuers partes of little mixed bodies, which in the whole summe were yet but little: and that this little masse had some excesse of fire in it, such as we see in wett hay, or in muste of wine, or in woort of beere: and that withall the drought of it were in so high a degree, as this heate should not find meanes (being too much compressed) to play his game: and that, lying there in the bosome of the earth, it should after some little time receiue its expected and desired drinke through the beneuolence of the heauen; by which it being moystened, and thereby made more pliable, and tender and easy to be wrought vpon, the little partes of fire should breake loose; and they finding this moysture a fitt subiect to worke vpon, should driue it into all the partes of the little masse, and digesting it there should make the masse swell. Which action, taking vp long time for performance of it, in respect of the small encrease of bulke made in the masse by the swelling of it; could not be hindered by the pressing of the earth, though lying neuer so weightily vpon it: according to the maxime we haue aboue deliuered, that any little force, be it neuer so little; is able to ouercome any great resistance, be it neuer so powerfull; if the force do multiply the time it worketh in, sufficiently to equalife the proportions of the agent and the resistant. This encrease of bulke and swelling of the litle masse, will of its owne nature be towardes all sides, by reason of the fire and heate that occasioneth it (whose motion is on euery side, from the center to the circumference:) but it will be most efficacious vpwardes, towardes the ayre, because the resistance is least that way; both by reason of the litle thicknesse of the earth ouer it; as also by reason that the vpper part of the earth lyeth very loose and is exceeding porous, through the continuall operation of the sunne and falling of raine vpon it. It can not choose therefore but mount to the ayre; and the same cause that maketh it do so, presseth att the same time the lower partes of the masse, downewardes. But what ascendeth to the ayre, must be of the hoater and more moist partes of the fermenting masse; and what goeth downewardes must be of his harder and dryer partes proportionate to the contrary motiōs of fire and of earth, which predominate in these two kindes of partes. Now this that is pushed vpwardes, coming aboue ground, and being there exposed to sunne and wind, contracteth thereby a hard and rough skinne on its outside; but within is more tender; in this sort it defendeth it selfe from outward iniuries of weather whiles it mounteth: and by thrusting other partes downe into the earth, it holdeth it selfe steadfast, that although the wind may shake it, yet it can not ouerthrow it. The greater this plant groweth, the more iuice is dayly accrewed vnto it, and the heate is encreased; and consequently, the greater aboundance of humors is continually sent vp. Which when it

beginneth to clogge att the toppe, new humour pressing vpwardes, forceth a breach in the skinne; and so a new piece, like the maine stemme, is thrust out and beginneth on the sides, which we call a branch. Thus is our plāt amplifyed, till nature not being able still to breede such strong issues, falleth to workes of lesse labour, and pusheth forth the most elaborate part of the plants iuice into more tender substances: but especially, att the endes of the branches; where, aboundant humour, but att the first, not well concocted, groweth into the shape of a button; and more and better concocted humour succeding, it groweth softer and softer (the sunne drawing the subtilest partes outwardes) excepting what the coldnesse of the ayre and the roughnesse of the wind do harden into an outward skinne. So then the next partes to the skinne, are tender; but the very middle of this button must be hard and dry, by reason that the sunne from without, and the naturall heate within, drawing and driuing out the moysture and extending it from the center, must needes leaue the more earthy partes much shrūcke vp and hardened by their euaporating out from them: wh••ch hardening, being an effect of fire within and without, that baketh this hard substance, incorporateth much of it selfe with it, as we haue formerly declared in the making of salt by force of fire. This button, thus dilated, and brought to this passe, we call the fruite of the plant: whose harder part, encloseth oftentimes, an other not so hard as dry. The reason whereof is because the outward hardenesse permitteth no moysture to soake in any aboundance through it; and then, that which is enclosed in it, must needes be much dryed; though not so much, but that it still retaineth the common nature of the plant. This drought, maketh these inner partes to be like a kind of dult; or att the least, such as may be easily dryed into dust, when they are brused out of the huske that encloseth them. And in euery parcell of this dust, the nature of the whole resideth; as it were contracted into a small quantity; for the iuice which was first in the button, and had passed from the roote through the manifold varieties of the diuers partes of the plant, and had suffered much concoction, partly from the sunne and partly from the inward heate imprisoned in that harder part of the fruite; is by these passages, strainings, and concoctions, become att the length to be like a tincture extracted out of the whole plant; and is att the last dryed vp into a kind of magistery. This we call the seede: which is, of a fitt nature, by being buried in the earth and dissolued with humour, to renew and reciprocate the operation we haue thus described. And thus, you haue the formation of a Plant.

But a sensiue creature, being compared to a plant, as a plant is to a mixed body;8 1.234 you can not but conceiue that he must be compounded as it were of many plantes, in like sort as a plant is of many mixed bodies. But so, that all the plants which concurre to make one animal, are of one kind of nature and cognation: and besides; the matter, of which such

diuersity is to be made, must of necessity be more humid and figurable, then that of an ordinary plant: and the artificer which worketh and mouldeth it, must be more actiue. Wherefore we must suppose that the masse, of which an animal is to be made, must be actually liquid: and the fire that worketh vpon it, must be so powerfull that of its owne nature, it may be able to conuert this liquide matter into such breathes and steames, as we see do vse to rise from water, when the sunne or fire worketh vpon it. Yet if the masse were altogether as liquide as water, it would vanish away by heate boyling it, and be dryed vp: therefore it must be of such a conuenient temper, that although in some of its partes it be fluide and apt to runne; yet by others it must be held together; as we see that vnctuous thinges for the most part are; which will swell by heate, but not flye away.

So then if we imagine a great heate to be imprisoned in such a liquour; and that it seeketh by boyling, to breake out; but that the solidenesse and viscousnesse of the substance will not permitt it to euaporate: it can not choose but comport it selfe in some such sort as we see butter or oyle in a frying panne ouer the fire, when it riseth in bubbles: but much more efficaciously; for their body is not strong enough to keepe in the heate; and therefore those bubbles fall againe; whereas if it were, those bubbles would rise higher and higher, and stretch themselues longer and longer (as when the soape boylers do boyle a strong vnctuous lye into soape;) and euery one of them would be as it were a litle brooke, whereof the channell would be the enclosing substance; and the inward smoake that extendeth it, might be compared to the water of it: as when a glasse is blowne out by fire and ayre into a long figure.

Now we may remember, how we haue said, where we treated of the production and resolution of mixed bodies, that there are two sortes of liquide substantiall partes, which by the operation of fire are sent out of the body it worketh vpon; the watry, and the oyly partes. For though there appeare some times some very subtile and aethereall partes of a third kind (which are the aquae ardentes, or burning spirits;) yet in such a close distilling of circulation as this is, they are not seuered by themselues, but do accompagny the rest; and especially the watry partes: which are of a nature, that the rising Ethereall spirits easily mingle with, and extend themselues in it; whereby the water becometh more effica∣cious, and the spirits lesse fugitiue.

Of these liquide partes which the fire sendeth away, the watry ones are the first, as being the easiest to be raysed: the oyly partes, rise more difficultly; and therefore do come last. And in the same manner it happeneth in this emission of brookes, the watry and oyly steames will each of them flye into different reserues; and if there arriue vnto them, aboundance of their owne quality, each of them must make a substance of its owne nature by settling in a conuenient place, and by due

concoction. Which substance after it is made and confirmed, if more humidity and heate do presse it, will againe break forth into other litle channels. But when the watry and oyly partes are boyled away, there remaine yet behind other more solide and fixed partes, and more strongly incorporated with fire then eyther of these: which yet can not drye vp into a fiery salt, because a continuall accessiō of humour keepeth them alwayes flowing: and so they become like a couldron of boyling fire. Which must propagate it selfe as wide as eyther of the others; since the actiuity of it must needes be greater then theirs (as being the source of motion vnto them) and that there wanteth not humidity for it to extend it selfe by.

And thus you see three rootes of three diuers plants, all in the same plant, proceeding by naturall resolution from one primitiue source. Whereof that which is most watry, is fittest to fabricate the body and common outside of the triformed plant; since water is the most figurable principle that is in nature, and the most susceptible of multiplication; and by its cold is easyest to be hardened, and therefore fittest to resist the iniuries of enemy bodies that may infest it. The oyly partes, are fittest for the continuance and solidity of the plant: for we see that viscosity and oylinesse, hold together the partes where they abound; and they are slowly wasted by fire, but do conserue and are an aliment to the fire that consumeth them. The partes of the third kind, are fittest for the conseruation of heate: which though in them it be too violent; yet it is necessary for working vpon other partes, and for maine∣taining a due temper in them.

And thus we haue armed our plant with three sortes of riuers or brookes to runne through him, with as many different streames; the one of a gentle balsamike oyle; an other, of streaming fire; and the third of a connaturall and cooler water to irrigate and temper him. The streames of water, (as we haue said) must runne through the whole fabrike of this triformed plant: and because it is not a simple water, but warme in a good degree, and as it were a middle substance betwixt water and ayre (by reason of the ardent volatile spiritt that is with it) it is of a fitt nature to swell as ayre doth; and yet withall to resist violence in a conuenient degree, as water doth. Therefore, if from its source, nature sendeth aboundance into any one part; that part must swell and grow thicker and shorter; and so, must be contracted that way which nature hath ordered it. Whence we perceiue a meanes, by which nature may draw any part of the outward fabrike, which way soeuer she is pleased by sett instruments for such an effect. But when there is no motion, or but litle in these pipes, the standing streame that is in a very litle, though long channell, must needes be troubled in its whole body, if any one part of it be pressed vpon, so as to receiue thereby any impression: and therefore, whatsoeuer is done vpon it, though att the very furthest end of it; maketh a commotion and sendeth an impression vp to its very source.

Which appearing by our former discourse to be the origine of particular and occasionall motions; it is obuious to conceiue how it is apt to be moued and wrought by such an impression to sett on foote the beginning of any motion; which by natures prouidence is conuenient for the plant, when such an impression is made vpon it.

And thus you see this plant hath the vertue both of sense or feeling; that is, of being moued and affected by externe obiects, lightly striking vpon it; as also, of mouing it selfe, to or from such an obiect; according as nature shall haue ordained. Which in summe is; that this plant is a sensitiue creature, composed of three sources; the heart, the braine, and the liuer: whose offspringes are the arteries, the nerues, and the veines; which are filled with vitall spirits, with animal spirits, and with blood: and by these, the animal is heated, nourished, and made partaker of sense and motion.

Now referring the particular motions of liuing creatures, to an other time: we may obserue that both kindes of them, as well vegetables as animals do agree in the nature of sustaining themselues in the three common actions of generation, nutrition, and augmentation; which are the beginning, the progresse, and the conseruing of life. Vnto which three we may adde the not so much action as passion of death; and of sicknesse or decay, which is the way to death.

THE FOVRE AND TWENTIETH CHAPTER. A more particular suruay of the generation of Animals; in which is discouered what part of the animal is first generated.

TO beginne then with examining how liuing creatures are ingendered:1 1.235 our maine question shall be; whether they be framed entirely att once; or successiuely, one part after an other? And if this later way; which part first? Vpon the discussion of which, all that concerneth generation will be explicated, as much as concerneth our purpose in hand. To deduce this from its origine: we may remember how our Masters tell vs, that when any liuing creature is passed the heate of its augmentation or growing; the superfluous nourishment settleth it selfe in some appoynted place of the body to serue for the production of some other. Now it is euident that this superfluity cometh from all partes of the body, and may be said to containe in it, after some sort, the perfection of the whole liuing creature. Be it how it will, it is manifest that the liuing creature is made, of this superfluous moysture of the parent: which according to the opinion of some, being compounded of seuerall partes deriued from the seuerall limbes of the parent; those partes when they come to be fermented in conuenient heate and moysture, do take their posture, and

situation, according to the posture and disposition of partes that the liuing creature had, from whence they issued: and then they growing dayly greater and solider, (the effects of moysture and of heate;) do att the length become such a creature as that was, from whence they had their origine.

Which, an accident that I remember, seemeth much to confirme. It was of a catt that had its tayle cutt of when it was very yong: which catt happening afterwardes to haue yong ones, halfe the kittlinges proued without tayles, and the other halfe had them in an ordinary manner; as if nature could supply but on the partners side, not on both. And an other particular that I saw when I was att Argiers, maketh to this purpose, which was, of a woman that hauing two thumbes vpon the left hand; foure daugthers that she had, did all resemble her in the same accident, and so did a litle child, a girle of her eldest daugthers; but none of her sonnes. Whiles I was there I had a particular curiosity to see them all: and though it be not easily permitted vnto Christians to speake familiarly with Mahometan women; yet the condition I was in there, and the ciuility of the Bassha, gaue me the opportunity of full view and discourse with them: and the old woman told me, that her mother and Grandmother had beene in the same manner. But for them, it resteth vpon her creditt: the others I saw my self.

2 1.236But the opinion which these accidents seeme to support; though att the first view it seemeth smoothly to satisfy our inquiry, and fairely to compasse the making of a liuing creature: yet looking further into it, we shall find it fall exceeding short of its promising; and meete with such difficulties, as it can not ouercome. For first, lett vs cast about how this compound of seuerall partes, that serueth for the generation of a new liuing creature, can be gathered from euery part and member of the parent; so to carry with it in litle the complete nature of it. The meaning hereof must be, that this superfluous aliment, eyther passeth through all and euery litle part and particle of the parents body, and in its passage receiueth something from them: or else, that it receiueth only from all similar and great partes.

The former seemeth impossible, for how can one imagine that such iuice should circulate the whole body of an animall, and visit euery atome of it, and retire to the reserue where it is kept for generatiō; and no part of it remaine absolutely hehind, sticking to the flesh or bones that it bedeaweth; but that still some part returneth backe from euery part of the animall? Besides; consider how those partes that are most remote from the channels which conuey this iuice; when they are fuller of nourishment then they neede, the iuice which ouerfloweth from them, cometh to the next part, and settling there and seruing it for its due nourishment, driueth backe into the channell, that which was betwixt the channell and it selfe: so that here, there is no returne att all from some of the remote pattes; and much of that iuice which is reiected,

neuer went farre from the channell it selfe. We may therefore safely conclude, that it is impossible, euery litle part of the whole body should remitt something impregnated and imbued with the nature of it.

But then you may peraduenture say that euery similar part doth. If so I would aske, how it is possible that by fermentation only, euery part should regularly goe to a determinate place, to make that kind of animal; in which, euery similar part is diffused to so great an extent? How should the nature of flesh, here become broad, there round, and take iust the figure of the part it is to couer? How should a bone, here be hollow, there be blady, and in an other part take the forme of a ribbe, and those many figures which we see of bones? And the like we might aske of euery other similar part, as of the veines and the rest. Againe; seeing it must of necessity happen, that att one time more is remitted from one part then from an other; how cometh it to passe, that in the collection the due proportion of nature is so punctually obserued? Shall we say that this is done by some cunning artificer whose worke it is to sett all these partes in their due posture; which Aristotele attributeth to the seede of the Male? But this is impossible; for all this diuersity of worke, is to be done att one time, and in the same occasions: which can no more be effected by one agent, then multiplicity can immediately proceed from vnity.

But besides that there can be no Agent to dispose of the part••s when they are gathered; it is euident that a sensitiue creature may be made without any such gathering of partes beforehand from an other of the same kind: for else how could vermine breed out of liuing bodies, or out of corruption? How could ratts come to fill shippes, into which neuer any were brought? How could froggs be ingendred in the ayre? Eeles of deewy turfes, or of mudde? Toades of duckes? Fish, of hernes? And the like. To the same purpose; when one species or kind of animal is changed into an other; as when a catarpiller or a silkeworme becometh a flye; it is manifest that there can be no such precedent collection of partes.

And therefore,3 1.237 there is no remedy; but we must seeke out some other meanes and course of generation, thē this. Vnto which we may be ledd, by considering how a liuing creature is nourished and augmented: for why should not the partes be made in generation of a matter like to that which maketh thē in nutritiō? If they be augmēted by one kind of iuice that after seuerall changes, turneth att the length into flesh and bone; and into euery sort of mixed body or similar part, whereof the sensitiue crea∣ture is compounded; and that ioyneth it selfe to what it findeth already made, why should not the same iuice, with the same progresse of heate and moysture, and other due temperamēts; be conuerted att the first into flesh and bone though none be formerly there to ioyne it selfe vnto?

Lett vs then conclude that the iuice which serueth for nourishmēt of the animal, being more then is requisite for that seruice; the superfluous part of it, is drained from the rest, and is reserued in a place fitt for it: where by litle and litle through digestion, it gaineth strength and vigour

and spirits to it selfe, and becometh an homogeneall body, such as other simple compoundes are; which by other degrees of heate and moysture, is changed into an other kind of substance: and that againe; by other temperaments, into an other. And thus; by the course of nature, and by passing successiuely many degrees of temper, and by receiuing a totall change in euery one of them; att the length an animal is made of such iuice as afterwardes serueth to nourish him.4 1.238

But to bring this to passe a shorter way, and with greater facility; some haue beene of opimon, that all similar thinges of whatsoeuer substance, are vndiscernably mixed in euery thing that is: and that to the making of any body out of any thing; there is no more required but to gather together those partes which are of that kind, and to seperate, and cast away from them, all those which are of a nature differing from them.

But this speculation will appeare a very ayry and needelesse one, if we consider into how many seuerall substances the same species of a thing may be immediately changed; or rather, how many seuerall substances may be encreased immediately from seuerall equall indiuiduals of the same thing; and then take an account how much of each indiuiduall is gone into each substance which it hath so encreased. For if wee summe vp the quantities that in the seuerall substances are thereby encreased; we shall find that they do very much exceed the whole quantity of any one of the indiuiduals; which should not be if the supposition were true; for euery indiuiduall shonld be but one totall made vp of the seuerall different similar partes, which encrease the seuerall substances, that extract out of them what is of their owne nature.

This will be better vnderstood by an example: suppose that a man, a horse, a cowe, a sheepe, and 500 more seuerall species of liuing creatures, should make a meale of lettuce: to auoyde all perplexity in conceiuing the argument, lett vs allow that euery one did eate a pound; and lett vs conceiue an other pound of this herbe to be burned; as much to be putrifyed vnder a Cabage roote; and the like vnder 500 plantes more of diuers species. Then cast how much of euery pound of lettuce is turned into the substances that are made of them, or that are encreased by them; as, how much ashes, one pound hath made; how much water hath beene distilled out of an other pound; how much a man hath beene encreased by a third; how much a horse by a fourth; how much earth by the putrefaction of a fifth pound, how much a cabage hath beene encreased by a sixth: and so goe ouer all the poundes that haue beene turned into substances of different specieses (which may be multiplyed as much as you please.) And when you haue summed vp all these seuerall quantities, you will find them farre to exceed the quantity of one pound: which it would not do, if euery pound of lettuce were made vp of seuerall different similar partes actually in it, that are extracted by different substances of the natures of those partes; and that no substance could be encreased by it, vnlesse partes of its nature were originally in the lettuce.

On the other side,5 1.239 if we but cast our eye backe vpon the principles we haue layed where we discourse of the composition of bodies, we shall discerne how this worke of changing one thing into an other; eyther in nutrition, in augmentation, or in generation; will appeare not only possible, but easy to be effected. For out of them, it is made euident how the seuerall varieties of solide and liquide bodies; all differences of naturall qualities, all consistences, and whatsoeuer else belongeth to similar bodies; resulteth out of the pure and single mixture of rarity and density; so that to make all such varieties as are necessary, there is no neede of mingling, or of seperating any other kindes of partes: but only an art or power to mingle in due manner, plaine rare and dense bodies one with an other. Which very action and none other (but with excellent methode and order, such as becometh the great Architect that hath designed it) is performed in the generation of a liuing creature: which is made of a substance, att the first, farre vnlike what it afterwardes groweth to be.

If we looke vpon this change in grosse, and consider but the two extremes (to witt, the first substance, of which a liuing creature is made; and it selfe in its full perfection) I confesse, it may well seeme incredible how so excellent a creature can deriue its origine from so meane a principle, and so farre remote and differing from what it groweth to be. But if we examine it in retayle, and go along anatomising it in euery steppe and degree that it changeth by; we shall find, that euery immediate change is ••o neere, and so palpably to be made by the concurrent causes of the matter prepared; as we must conclude, it can not possibly become any other thing then iust what it doth become.

Take a beane, or any other seede, and putt it into the earth, and lett water fall vpon it; can it then choose but that the beane must swell? The beane swelling, can it choose but breake the skinne? The skinne broken can it choose (by reason of the heate that is in it) but push out more matter, and do that action which we may call germinating? Can these germes choose but pierce the earth in small stringes, as they are able to make their way? Can these stringes choose but be hardened, by the compression of the earth, and by their owne nature, they being the heauyest partes of the fermented beane? And can all this be any thing else but a roote? Afterwardes the heate that is in the roote, mingling it selfe with more moysture, and according to its nature, springing vpwardes; will it not follow necessarily, that a tender greene substance twhich we call a budd, or leafe) must appeare a litle aboue the earth; since (endernesse, greenenesse, and ascent, are the effects of those two principles, heate and moysture? And must not this greene substance change from what it was att the first, by the sunne and ayre working vpon it, as it groweth higher; till att the length it hardeneth into a stalke? All this while, the heate in the roote sublimeth vp more moysture, which maketh the stalke att the first grow ranke and encrease in length.

But when the more volatile part of that warme iuice, is sufficiently depured and sublimed, will it not attempt to thrust it selfe out beyond the stalke with much vigour and smartnesse? And as soone as it meeteth with the cold ayre in its eruption, will it not be stopped and thickned? And new partes flocking still from the roote, must they not clogge that issue, and grow into a button, which will be a budd? This budde being hardened att the sides, by the same causes which hardened the stalke, and all the while the inward heate still streaming vp, and not enduring to be long enclosed, (especially when by its being stopped, it multiplyeth it selfe) will it not follow necessarily that the tender budde must cleaue, and giue way to that spirituall iuice; which being purer then the rest (through its great sublimation) sheweth it selfe in a purer and nobler substance then any that is yet made; and so becometh a flower? From hence, if we proceed as we haue begunne, and do weigh all circumstances; we shall see euidently, that an other substance must needes succeed the flower, which must be hollow and containe a fruite in it: and that this fruite must grow bigger and harder. And so, to the last periode of the generation of new beanes.

Thus by drawing the thridde carefully along through your fingers, and staying att euery knott to examine how it is tyed; you see that this difficult progresse of the generation of liuing creatures, is obuious enough to be comprehended; and that the steppes of it are possible to be sett downe; if one would but take the paines and afford the time that is necessary (lesse then that Philosopher, who for so many yeares gaue himselfe wholy vp to the single obseruing of the nature of bees) to note diligently all the circumstances in euery change of it. In euery one of which the thing that was, becometh absolutely a new thing; and is endewed with new properties and qualities different from those it had before, as Physitians from their certaine experience, do assure vs. And yet euery change is such, as in the ordinary and generall course of nature (wherein nothing is to be considered, but the necessary effects following out of such Agents working vpon such patients, in such circumstances) it is impossible that any other thing should be made of the precedent, but that which is immediately, subsequent vnto it.

Now if all this orderly succession of mutations be necessarily made in a beane, by force of sundry circumstances and externall accidents; why may it not be conceiued that the like is also done in sensible creatures; but in a more perfect manner, they being perfecter substances? Surely the progresse we haue sett downe is much more reasonable, then to conceiue that in the meale of the beane, are contained in litle, seuerall similar substances; as, of a roote, of a leafe, a stalke, a flower, a codde, fruite, and the rest; and that euery one of these, being from the first still the same that they shall be afterwardes, do but sucke in, more moysture from the earth, to swell and enlarge themselues in quantity. Or, that in the seede of the male, there is already in act, the substance of flesh, of

bone, of sinewes, of veines, and the rest of those seuerall similar partes which are found in the body of an animall; and that they are but extended to their due magnitude, by the humidity drawne from the mother, without receiuing any substantiall mutation from what they were originally in the seede.

Lett vs then confidently conclude, that all generation is made of a fitting, but remote, homogeneall compounded substance: vpon which, outward Agents working in the due course of nature, do change it into an other substance, quite different from the first, and do make it lesse homogeneall then the first was. And other circumstances and agents, do change this second into a thirde; that thirde, into a fourth; and so onwardes, by successiue mutations (that still make euery new thing become lesse homogeneall, then the former was, according to the nature of heate, mingling more and more different bodies together) vntill that substance be produced, which we consider in the periode of all these mutations.

And this, is euident out of many experiences: as for example in trees; the barke which is opposed to the north wind, is harder and thicker then the contrary side which is opposed to the south, and a great difference will appeare in the graine of the wood; euen so much, that skilfull people, will by feeling and seeing a round piece of the wood after the tree is felled, tell you in what situation it grew, and which way each side of that peece looked. And Iosephus Acosta writeth of a tree in America, that on the one side being situated towardes great hills, and on the other being exposed to the hoat sunne; the one halfe of it flourisheth att one time of the yeare, and the other halfe att the opposite season. And some such like may be the cause of the strāge effects we sometimes see of trees, flourishing or bearing leafes att an vnseasonable time of the yeare; as in particular, in the famous oake in the Newforest; and in some others in our Iland: in which peraduenture the soyle they grow in, may do the same effect, as the windes and sunne did in the tree that Acosta maketh mention of. For we dayly see how some soyles are so powerfull ouer some kind of corne, that they will change the very nature of it; so that, you shall reape oates or rye, after you haue sowen wheate there.

Which sheweth euidently that since the outward circumstances can make the partes or the whole of any substance, become different from what they were att the first; generation is not made by aggregation of like partes to presupposed like ones: nor by a specificall worker within; but by the compounding of a seminary matter, with the iuice which accreweth to it from without, and with the steames of circumstant bodies; which by an ordinary course of nature, are regularly imbibed in it by degrees; and which att euery degree, do change it into a different thing, such an one as is capable to result out of the present compound,6 1.240 (as we haue said before) vntill it arriue to its full perfection.

Which yet is not the vtmost periode of natures changes; for from

that; for example, from corne or an animal, it carryeth it on (still changing it) to be meale or a cadauer: from thence to be bread or durte: after that to be bloud or grasse. And so, still turning about her wheele (which suffereth nothing to remaine long in the state it is in) she changeth all substances from one into an other. And by reiterated reuolutions, maketh in time euery thing of euery thing: as when of mudde she maketh tadpoles, and frogges, of them; and afterwardes, mudde againe of the frogges: or when she runneth a like progresse; from earth to wormes; and from them, to flyes; and the like: so changing one animal into such an other; as in the next precedent steppe, the matter in those circumstances is capable of being changed into; or rather (to say better) must necessarily be changed into.

To confirme this by experience; I haue beene assured, by one who was very exact in noting such thinges; that he once obserued in Spaine, in the spring season, how a sticke lying in a moyst place, grew in tract of time to be most of it a rotten durty matter; and that att the durty end of the sticke, there began a rude head to be formed of it by litle and litle; and after a while some litle legges began to discouer themselues neere this vnpolished head, which dayly grew more and more distinctly shaped. And then, for a pretty while (for it was in a place where he had the conue∣niencye, to obserue dayly the progresse of it, and no body came neere to stirre it in the whole course of it) he could discerne where it ceased to be a body of a liuing creature, and where it began to be dead stiche or durt; all in one continuate quantity or body. But euery day the body grew longer and longer, and more legges appeared, till att the length, when he saw the animal almost finished, and neere seperating it selfe from the rest of the sticke, he stayed then by it, and saw it creepe away in a catarpillar, leauing the sticke and durt, as much wanting of its first length, as the wormes body tooke vp. Peraduenture the greatest part of such creatures maketh their way by such steppes into the world. But to be able to obserue their progresse thus distinctly as this Gentleman did, happeneth not frequently.

7 1.241Therefore, to satisfy our selues herein it were well we made our remarkes in some creatures that might be continually in our power to obserue in them the course of nature euery day and houre. Sir Ihon Heydon, the Lieutenant of his Maiesties ordinance (that generous and knowing Gentleman; and consummate souldier both in theory and practise) was the first that instructed me how to do this, by meanes of a furnace so made as to imitate the warmeth of a sitting henne. In which you may lay seuerall egges to hatch; and by breaking them at seuerall ages you may distinctly obserue euery hourely mutation in them, if you please. The first will bee, that on one side you shall find a great resplendent clearnesse in the white. After a while, a litle spott of red matter like bload, will appeare in the middest of that clearnesse fastened to the yolke: which will haue a motion of opening

and shutting; so as sometimes you will see it, and straight againe it will vanish from your sight; and indeede att the first it is so litle, that you can not see it, but by the motion of it; for att euery pulse, as it openeth, you may see it, and immediately againe, it shutteth in such sort, as it is not to be discerned. Frō this red specke, after a while there will streame out, a number of litle (almost imperceptible) red veines. Att the end of some of which, in time there will be gathered together, a knotte of matter which by litle and litle, will take the forme of a head; and you will ere long beginne to discerne eyes and a beake in it. All this while the first red spott of blood, groweth bigger and solider: till att the length, it becometh a fleshy substance; and by its figure, may easily be discerned to be the hart: which as yet hath no other enclosure but the substance of the egge. But by litle and litle the rest of the body of an animal is framed out of those red veines which streame out all aboute from the hart. And in processe of time, that body incloseth the heart within it by the chest, which groweth ouer on both sides, and in the end meeteth, and closeth it selfe fast together. After which this litle creature soone filleth the shell, by conuerting into seuerall partes of itselfe all the substance of the egge. And then growing weary of so straight an habitation, it breaketh prison, and cometh out, a perfectly formed chicken.

In like manner: in other creatures; which in latin are called Viuipara (because their yong ones are quicke in their mothers wombe) we haue, by the relation of that learned and exact searcher into nature, Doctor Haruey: that the seede of the male after his accoupling with the female, doth not remaine in her wombe in any sensible bulke: but (as it seemeth) euaporateth and incorporateth it selfe, eyther into the body of the wombe, or rather into some more interior part, as into the seminary vessells. Which being a solide substance, much resembling the nature of the females seede, is likely to sucke vp, by the mediation of the females seede, the male seede incorporated with it, and by incorporation, turned (as it were) into a vapour: in such sort as we haue formerly explicated how the body of a scorpion or viper, draweth the poyson out of a wound. And after a certaine time (Doctor Haruey noted the space of sixe weekes or two months in does or hindes) these seedes distill againe into the wombe; and by litle and litle do clarify in the middest, and a litle red specke appeareth in the center of the bright clearnesse: as we said before of the egge.

But we should be too blame to leaue our Reader without clearing that difficulty,8 1.242 which can not, choose but haue sprung vp in his thoughts, by occasion of the relations we made att the entrance into this point concerning the catte whose kittlinges were halfe with tayles, and halfe without: and the womans daughters att Argires, that had as well as their mother excrescences vpon their left thumbes, imitating an other lesser thumbe: and the like effects whensouer they happen, which they do frequently enough.

Lett him therefore remember, how we haue determined that generation is made of the bloud, which being dispersed into all the partes of the body to irrigate euery one of them; and to conuey fitting spirits into them frō their source or shoppe where they are forged; so much of it as is superaboundant to the nourishing of those partes is sent backe againe to the hart to recouer the warmeth and spirits it hath lost by so long a iourney. By which perpetuall course of a continued circulation, it is euident that the bloud in running thus through all the partes of the body must needes receiue some particular concoction or impression from euery one of them. And by consequence, if there be any specificall vertue in one part which is not in an other, then the bloud returning from thence must be endewed with the vertue of that part. And the purest part of this bloud, being extracted like a quintessence out of the whole masse, is reserued in conuenient receptacles or vessels till there be vse of it: and is the matter or seede, of which a new animal is to be made; in whom, will appeare the effect of all the specificall vertues drawne by the bloud in its iterated courses, by its circular motion, through all the seuerall partes of the parents body.

Whence it followeth, that if any part be wanting in the body whereof this seede is made, or be superaboundant in it; whose vertue is not in the rest of the body, or whose superaboundance is not allayed by the rest of the body; the vertue of that part, can not be in the bloud, or will be too strong in the blood, and by consequence, it can not be at all, or it will be, too much in the seede. And the effect proceeding from the seede, that is, the yong animal will come into the world sauouring of that origine; vnlesse the mothers seede, do supply or temper, what the fathers was defectiue or superaboundant in; or contrariwise the fathers do correct the errors of the mothers.9 1.243

But peraduenture the Reader will tell vs, that such a specificall vertue can not be gotten by concoction of the bloud, or by any pretended impression in it; vnlesse some litle particles of the nourished part do remaine in the bloud, and returne backe with it according to that maxime of Geber: Quod non ingreditur, non immutat; no body can change an other, vnlesse it enter into it, and mixing it selfe with it do become one with it. And that so in effect, by this explication we fall backe into the opinion which we reiected.

To this I answere, that the difference is very great betweene that opinion and ours; as will appeare euidently, if you obserue the two following assertions of theirs. First, they affirme that a liuing creature is made meerely by the assembling together of similar partes, which were hidden in those bodies from whence they are extracted in generation: whereas we say that bloud coming to a part to irrigate it, is by its passage through it, and some litle stay in it, and by its frequent returnes thither, att the length transmuted into the nature of that part: and thereby the specificall vertues of euery part, do grow greater, and are more diffused and extended.

Secondly, they say that the embroyn is actually formed in the seede, though in such litle partes as it can not be discerned, vntill each part haue enlarged and encreased it selfe, by drawing vnto it from the circumstant bodies more substance of their owne nature. But we say, that there is one homogeneall substance; made of the bloud, which hath beene in all partes of the body; and this is the seede: which containeth not in it, any figure of the animal from which it is refined, or of the animal into which it hath a capacity to be turned (by the addition of other substances) though it haue in it the vertues of all the partes it hath often runne through.

By which terme of specifike vertues, I hope we haue said enough in sundry places of this discourse to keepe men from conceiuing that we do meane any such vnconceiueable quality, as moderne Philosophers too frequently talke of, when they know not what they say or think, nor can giue any account of. But that it is such degrees and such numbers, of rare and dense partes mingled together, as constitute a mixed body of such a temper and nature: which degrees and proportions of rare and dense partes and their mixture together, and in corporating into one homogeneall substance, is the effect resulting from the operations of the exteriour agent, that cutteth, imbibeth, kneadeth, and boyleth it to such a temper: which exteriour agent in this case, is each seuerall part of the animals body, that this iuice or bloud runneth through; and that hath a particular temper belonging to it, resulting out of such a proportion of rate and dense partes, as we haue euen now spoken of; and can no more be withheld from communicating its temper to the bloud that first soaketh into it, and soone after drayneth away againe from it (according as other succeeding partes of bloud driue it on;) then a minerall channell can choose, but communicate its vertue vnto a streame of water that runneth through it, and is continually grating of some of the substance of the minerall earth, and dissoluing it into it selfe.

But to goe on with our intended discourse.10 1.244 The seede, thus imbued with the specificall vertues of all the seuerall partes of the parents body, meeting in a fitt receptacle the other partners seede; and being there duly concocted, becometh first a hart: which hart in this tender beginning of a new animal containeth the seuerall vertues of all the partes that afterwardes will grow out of it, and be in the future animal; in the same manner as the hart of a complete animal containeth in it the specifike vertues of all the seuerall partes of its owne body, by reason of the bloudes continuall resorting to it in a circle from all par••es of its body, and its being nourished by that iuice to supply the continuall consumption which the extreme heate of it must needes continually occasion in its owne substance; whereby the hart becometh in a manner the compendium or abridgement of the whole animal.

Now this hart in the growing Embryon, being of the nature of fire▪

as on the one side it streameth out its hoat partes; so on the other, it sucketh oyle or fewell to nourish it selfe out of the adiacent moist partes▪ which matter aggregated vnto it, being sent abroad together with the other hoat partes that steame from it; both of them together, do stay and settle as soone as they are out of the reach of that violent heate that would not permitt them to thicken or to rest. And there they grow into such a substance as is capable to be made of such a mixture, and are linked to the hart by some of those stringes that steame out from it (for those steames do likewise harden, as we shewed more particularly when we discoursed of the tender stalkes of plantes) and in a word, this becometh some other part of the animal. Which thus encreaseth by order, one part being made after an other, vntill the whole liuing creature be completely framed.

So that now you see; how mainely their opinion differeth from ours; since they say that there is actually in the seede, a complete liuing creature: for what else is a liuing creature, but bones in such partes, nerues in such others, bloud and humors contained in such and such places, all, as in a liuing creature? All which they say. But we make the seede to be nothing else, but one mixed body, of one homogeneall nature throughout; consisting of such a multiplicity of rare and dense partes; so ballanced and proportioned, in number and in magnitude of those partes; which are euenly shuffled, and alike mingled in euery litle parcell of the whole substance: in such sort, that the operation of nature vpon this seede, may in a long time and with a dew processe, bring out such figures, situation, and qualities, (as fluidity, consistence, drynesse, and the like) which by much mixtion and consequent alteration, may in the end become such as constitute a liuing creature of such a kind. And thus it appeareth, that although other substances, and liquours, and steames are from time to time mingled with the seede, and then with the hart, and afterwardes with the other partes, as they grow on and encrease; yet the maine vertue of the ensuing animal, is first in the seede and afterwardes in the hart.

Whence the reason is euident, why both defects and excrescences, do passe sometimes from the parents to the children; to witt, when nothing supplyeth the defect or correcteth the exorbitancy. Rather after this which we haue said, the difficulty will appeare greater, in that such accidents are not alwayes hereditary from the parents; but happen only now and then, some rare times. But the same groundes we haue layed will likewise solue this obiection; for seeing that the hart of the animal, from whence the seede receiueth its proper nature (as we haue declared) is impregnated with the specifike vertue of each seuerall part of the body; it can not be doubted but that the hart will supply for any defect happened in any part, after it hath been imbued with that vertue, and is growne to a firmenesse, and vigorous consistence with that vertue moulded, and deepely imbibed into the very substance of it. And

although the hart should be tincted from its first origine with an vndew vertue from some part (as it seemeth to haue been in the mother of those daugthers that had two thumbes vpon one hand:) yet it is not necessary that all the offspring of that parent should be formed after that modell; for the other partners seede may be more efficacious, and predominate in the geniture, ouer the faulty seede of the other parent; and then it will supply for, and correct, the others deuiation from the generall rule of nature. Which seemeth to be the case of that womans male children; for in them, the fathers seede being strongest, all their fingers imitated the regularity of their fathers: whereas the daughters (whose sexe implyeth that the fathers seede was lesse actiue) carried vpon some of theirs, the resemblance of their mothers irregularity.

And in confirmation of this doctrine, we dayly see that the children of parents, who haue any of their noble partes much and long distempered, whereby there must be a great distemper in the bloud (which is made and concocted by their assistance) do seldome faile of hauing strong inclinations to the distempers and diseases that eyther of their parents were violently subiect vnto. Scarce any father or mother dyeth of the consumption of the lunges, but their children inherite that disease in some measure: the like is of the stone; the like of the gowte; the like of diseases of the braine, and of sundry others; when they infested the parents with any notable eminency. For the bloud coming continually to the hart from such ill affected partes by its circulation through the whole body must needes in processe of time alter, and change the temper of the hart: and then; both the hart giueth a tainted impression to the bloud that must be boyled into seede; and the partes themselues do communicate their debilities, and distempers vnto it: so that it is no wonder, if the seede do partake of such depraued qualities; since it is a maxime among Physitians, that subsequent concoctions, can neuer amend or repaire the faultes of the precedent ones.

Hauing waded thus farre into this matter; and all experience agreeing that the whole animal is not formed att once:11 1.245 I conceiue there can be no great difficulty in determining what parte of it is first generated: which we haue already said to be the hart; but peraduenture the reader may expect some more particular and immediate proofe of it. It is euident that all the motions and changes, which we haue obserued in the egge and in the Doe, do proceed from heate: and it is as certaine that heate is greatest in the center of it; from whence it disperseth it selfe to lesse and lesse. It must then necessarily follow, that the part in which heate doth most abound; and which is the interiour fountaine of it, from whence (as from a stocke of their owne) all the other partes deriue theirs; must be formed first and th•• others successiuely after it, according as they par∣take more or lesse, of this heate; which is the Architect that mouldeth and frameth them all. Vndoubtedly this can be none other, but the hart: whose motion and manner of working, euidently appeareth in the

twinckling of the first red spotte (which is the first change) in the egge, and in the first matter of other liuing creatures. Yet I do not intend to say, that the hart is perfectly framed, and completely made vp, with all its partes and instruments, before any other part be begunne to be made: but only the most vertuous part; and as it were the marrow of it; which serueth as a shoppe or a hoat forge, to mould spirits in: from whence they are dispersed abroad to forme and nourish other partes that stand in neede of them to that effect.

The shootings or litle red stringes that streame out from it, must surely be arteries; through which, the bloud issuing from the hart, and there made and imbued with the nature of the seede, doth runne; till encountring with fitt matter, it engrosseth it selfe into braine, liuer, lightes &c. From the braine cheifely groweth the marrow, and by consequent the bones containing it, (which seeme to be originally, but the outward part of the marrow, baked and hardened into a strong cruste by the great heate that is kept in:) as also the sinnewes; which are the next principall bodies of strength, after the bones. The marrow being very hoat, dryeth the bones; and yet with its actuall moysture, it humecteth and nourisheth them too, in some sort. The spirits that are sent from the braine, do the like to the sinewes. And lastly; the arteries and veines by their bloud to cherish and bedew the flesh. And thus, the whole liuing creature is begunne, framed, and made vp.

THE FIVE AND TWENTIETH CHAPTER▪ How a Plant or Animal cometh to that figure it hath.

1 1.246BVt before we goe any further, and search into the operations of this animall, a wonderfull effect calleth our consideration vnto it: which is how a plant or animal, cometh by the figure it hath, both in the whole and in euery part of it? Aristotle after he had beaten his thoughts as farre as he could vpon this question, pronunced that this effect could not possibly be wrought by the vertue of the first qualites; but that it sprung from a more diuine origine. And most of the contemplators of nature since him, do seeme to agree that no cause can be rendered of it; but that it is to be referred meerely to the specificall nature of the thing. Neyther do we intend to derogate from eyther of these causes; since that both diuine prouidence is eminently shewne in contriuing all circumstances necessary for this worke; and likewise the first temperament that is in the seede, must needes be the principall immediate cause of this admirable effect.

This latter then being supposed▪ our labour and endeauour will be, to vnfold (as farre as so weake and dimme eyes can reach) the excellency and exactnesse of Gods prouidence, which can not be enough adored, when

it is reflected vpon, and marked in the apt laying of adequate causes to produce such a figure out of such a mixture first layed. From them so artificially ranged, we shall see this miracle of nature to proceed; and not from an immediate working of God or nature without conuenient and ordinary instruments to mediate and effect this configuration, through the force and vertue of their owne particular natures. Such a necessity to interest the cheife workeman att euery turne, in particular effects, would argue him of want of skill and prouidence, in the first laying of the foundations of his designed machine: he were an improuident clockemaker, that should haue cast his worke so, as when it were wound vp and going, it would require the masters hand att euery houre to make the hammer strike vpon the bell. Lett vs not then too familiarly, and irreuerently ingage the Almighty Architect his imme∣diate handy worke in euery particular effect of nature; Tali non est dignus vindice nodus.

But lett vs take principles within our owne kenning;2 1.247 and consider how a body hath of its owne nature three dimensions, (as Mathema∣ticians vse to demonstrate:) and that the variety which we see of figures in bodies, proceedeth out of the defect of some of these dimensions in proportion to the rest. As for example; that a thing be in the forme of a square tablette; is, for that the cause which gaue it length and breadth, could not also giue it thickenesse in the same proportion: for had it beene able to giue profundity as well as the other two, it had made a cube instead of a tablette. In like manner, the forme of a lamine, or very long square is occasioned by some accident which hindereth the cause from giuing breadth and thickenesse proportionable to the length. And so, other figures are made, by reason that their causes are somewayes bound to giue more of some dimension to one part then to an other.

As for example; when water falleth out of the skye, it hath all the litle corners or extancies of its body grated of by the ayre as it rouleth and tumbleth downe in it; so that it becometh round; and continueth in that forme, vntill that settling vpon some flatt body, as grasse or a leafe, it receiueth a litle plainenesse, to the proportion of its weight mastering the continuity of it. And therefore, if the droppe be great vpon that plaine body, it seemeth to be halfe a sphere, or some lesse portion of one: but if it be a litle droppe then the flatt part of it (which is that next vnto the grasse) is very litle and vndiscernable▪ because it hath not weight enough to presse it much and spread it broad vpon the grasse; and so the whole, seemeth in a manner to be a sphere: but if the externe causes had pressed vpon this droppe, only broadwayes and thickewayes (as when a turner maketh a round pillar of a square one) then it would haue proued a cylinder, nothing working vpon it to grate off any of its length, but only the corners of the breadth and thickenesse of it.

And thus you see, how the fundamentall figures (vpon which all the rest are grounded) are contriued by nature; not by the worke of any

particular Agent that immediately imprinteth a determinate figure into a particular body, as though it wrought it there att once, according to a foreconceiued designe or intelligent ayme of producing such a figure in such a body: but by the concurrence of seuerall accidentall causes, that do all of them ioyne in bringing the body they file and worke vpon, into such a shape.

Only we had like to haue forgotten the reason and cause of the concaue figure in some partes of plantes: which in the ordinary course of nature we shall find to grow from hence; that a round outside being filled with some liquor which maketh it grow higher and higher, it happeneth that the succeeding causes do contract this liquor, and do harden the outside: and then, of necessity there must be a hollow cylinder remayning in lieu of the iuice which before did fill it. As we see euery day in corne, and in reedes, and in canes, and in the stalkes of many herbes: which whilst they are tender and in their first groweth, are full of iuice; and become afterwardes hollow and drye.

3 1.248But because this discourse, may peraduenture seeme too much in common: it will not be amisse to apply it to some particulars that seem•• very strange. And first, lett vs examine how the rocking of concrete iuices (which seemeth to be such an admirable mystery of nature) is performed. Alume falleth downe in lumpes, saltpeter in long ycickles, and common salt in squares; and this, not once, or sometimes now and then; but alwayes constantly in the same order.

The reason of these effects will easily be reduced out of what we haue said▪ for if all three be dissolued in the same water, alume being the grossest falleth first and fastest: and being of an vnctuous nature, the first part which falleth doth not harden, till the second cometh to it; whereby this second sticketh to the first and crusheth it downe; and this is serued in the same manner by the third; and so goeth on, one part squeezing an other, till what is vndermost grow hard enough to resist the weight of new falling partes; or rather till no more do fall, but the liquor they were dissolued in, is deliuered of them all; and then they harden in that figure they were compressed into.

As for salt, which descendeth in the second place: that swimmeth first vpon the water; and there, getteth its figure; which must be equally long and broad, because the water is indifferent to those two positions; but its thickenesse is not equall to its other two dimensions, by reason that before it can attaine to that thicknesse, it groweth too heauy to swimme any longer; and after it is encreased to a certaine bulke, the weight of it carrieth it downe to the bottome of the water, and consequently it can encrease no more: for it encreaseth by the ioyning of litle partes vnto it as it swimmeth on the toppe of the water.

The saltpeter falleth last: which being more difficult to be figured then the other two, because it is more dry then eyther of them (as consisting chiefely of earthy and of fyry partes,) is not equally

encreased, neyther in all three, nor in two dimensions, but hath its length exceeding both its breadth and thicknesse: and its lightnesse, maketh it fall last, because it requireth least water to sustaine it.

To giue the causes of the figures of diuers mixtes, and particularly of some pretious stones, (which seeme to be cast by nature in exactest mouldes) would oblige vs to enter into the particular manner of their generation: which were exceeding hard, if not impossible, for vs to do, by reason that Authors haue not left vs the circumstances vpon which we might ground our iudgement concerning them, so particularly described as were necessary; nor our selues haue mett with the commo∣dity of making such experiences, and of searching so into their beds as were requisite, to determine solidely the reasons of them. And indeede I conceiue that oftentimes the relations which others haue recorded of their generation, would rather misseleade then assist vs: since it is very familiar in many men, to magnify the exactenesse of nature in framing effects they fansye to themselues, when to make their wonder appeare more iust; they will not fayle to sett of their story, with all aduantageous circumstances, and helpe out what wanteth a litle or cometh but neere the marke.

But to come closer to our purpose; that is, to the figures of liuing thinges;4 1.249 we see that rootes in the earth, are all of them figured almost in the same fashion: for the heate residing in the middest of them, pusheth euery way, and therevpon, some of them do become round, but others more long then round, according to the temper of the ground, or to the season of the yeare, or to the weather that happeneth: and this, not only in diuers kindes of rootes, but euē in seuerall of the same kinde. That part of the plant which mounteth vpwardes, is for the most part round and long; the cause whereof is euident, for the iuice which is in the middle of it working vpwardes (because the hardnesse of the barke will not lett it out att the sides) and coming in more and more aboundance (for the reasons we haue aboue deliuered) encreaseth that part equally euery way but vpwardes; and therefore, it must be equally thicke and broad, and consequently round: but the length will exceed eyther of the other dimensions; because the iuice is driuen vp with a greater force and in more quantity then it is to the sides. Yet the broadnesse and thickenesse are not so exactly vniforme, but that they exceede a little more att the bottome then att the toppe; which is occasioned partly by the contracting of the iuice into a narrower circuite the further it is from the source; and partly by reason of the branches; which shooting forth, do conuey away a great part of the iuice from the maine stocke.

Now if we consider the matter well;5 1.250 we shall find, that what is done in the whole tree the very same is likewise done in euery litle leafe of it; for a leafe consisteth of litle branches shooting out from one greater branch, which is in the middle: and againe, other lesser branches are deriued from those second branches: and so still lesser and lesser, till they

weaue themselues into a close worke, as thicke as that which we see women vse to fill vp with silke or crewell, when in tenteworke they embroader leafes or flowers vpon canneuas: and this againe; is couered and as it were glewed ouer, by the humour which sticking to these litle thriddes, stoppeth vp euery litle vacuity, and by the ayre is hardened into such a skinne as we see a leafe consisteth of.

And thus it appeareth how an account may be giuen of the figure of the leafes, as well as of the figure of the maine body of the whole tree: the litle branches of the leafe, being proportionate in figure to the branches of the tree it selfe (so that each leafe seemeth to be the tree in litle;) and the figure of the leafe depending of the course of these litle branches, so that if the greatest branch of the tree be much longer then the others, the leafe will be a long one: but if the lesser branches spread broadwayes; the leafe will likewise be a broad one; so farre, as euen to be notched att the outsides, round about it, in great or litle notches, according to the proportion of the trees branches. These leafes, when they first breake out, are foulded inwardes, in such sort as the smallnesse and roundnesse of the passage in the wood through which they issue, constrayneth them to be; where neuerthelesse the drynesse of their partes, keepe them asunder; so that one leafe doth not incorporate it selfe with an other: but as soone as they feele the heate of the sunne (after they are broken out into liberty) their tender branches by litle and litle grow more straight; the concaue partes of them drawing more towardes the sunne, because he extracteth and sucketh their moysture from their hinder partes into their former, that are more exposed to his beames; and thereby the hinder partes are contracted and grow shorter, and those before grow longer. Which if it be in excesse, maketh the leafe become crooked the contrary way; as we see in diuers flowers, and in sundry leafes during the summers heate: wittenesse, the yuy, roses full blowne, tulipes, and all flowers in forme of bells; and indeede all kindes of flowers whatsoeuer; when the sunne hath wrought vpon them to that degree we speake of, and that their ioyning to their stalke, and the next partes thereunto, allow them scope to obey the impulse of those outward causes. And when any do vary from this rule; we shall as plainely see other manifest causes producing those different effects, as now we do these working in this manner.

As for fruites though we see that when they grow att liberty vpon the tree, they seeme to haue a particular figure alloted them by nature: yet in truth, it is the ordered series of naturall causes and not an intrinsecall formatiue vertue which breedeth this effect, as is euident by the great power which art hath to change their figures att pleasure; whereof you may see examples enough in Campanella; and euery curious gardner can furnish you with store.6 1.251

Out of these, and such like principles a man that would make it his study with lesse trouble or tediousnesse, then that patient contemplator

of one of natures litle workes (the Bees) whom we mentioned a while agone, might without all doubt trace the causes in the growing of an Embryon, till he discouered the reason of euery bones figure; of euery notable hole or passage that is in them; of the ligaments by which they are tyed together; of the membranes that couer them; and of all the other partes of the body. How, out of a first masse, that was soft, and had no such partes distinguishable in it, euery one of thē came to be formed, by contracting that masse in one place, by dilating it in an other, by moystening it in a third, by drying it here, hardening it there;

Vt his exordia primis, Omnia, & ipse tener hominis concreuerit orbis.

till in the end this admirable machine and frame of mans body, was composed and fashioned vp by such litle and almost insensible steppes and degrees. Which when it is looked vpon in bulke, and entirely formed, seemeth impossible to haue beene made, and to haue sprung meerely out of these principle, without an Intelligence immediately working and moulding it att euery turne, from the beginning to the end.

But withall,7 1.252 we can not choose but breake out into an extasye of admiration and hymnes of prayse (as great Galen did vpon the like occasion) when we reuerently consider the infinite wisedome; and deepe farrelooking prouidence of the allseeing Creator and orderer of the world, in so punctually adapting such a multitude and swarme of causes to produce by so long a progresse so wonderfull an effect: in the whole course of which, if any one, the very least of them all, went neuer so litle awry, the whole fabrike would be discomposed and changed from the nature it is designed vnto.

Out of our short suruay of which (answerable to our weake talents, and slender experience) I persuade my selfe it appeareth euident enough, that to effect this worke of generation, there needeth not be supposed a forming vertue or Vis formatrix of an vnknowne power and operation, as those that consider thinges soddainely and but in grosse, do vse to putt. Yet, in discourse, for conueniency and shortenesse of expression we shall not quite banish that terme from all commerce with vs; so that what we meane by it, be rightly vnderstood; which is, the complexe, assemblement, or chayne of all the causes, that concurre to produce this effect; as they are sett on foote, to this end by the great Architect and Moderator of them, God almighty, whose instrument nature is: that is, the same thing, or rather the same thinges so ordered as we haue declared, but expressed and comprised vnder an other name.

THE SIX AND TWENTIETH CHAPTER. How motion beginneth in liuing creatures. And of the motion of the hart; circulation of the bloud; Nutrition; Augmentation; and corruption or death.

1 1.253BVt we must not take our leaue of this subiect, vntill we haue examined, how motion beginneth in liuing thinges; as well plants as sensitiue creatures. We can readily pitch vpon the part we are to make our obseruations in, for retriuing the origine of this primary motion: for hauing concluded that the rootes of plants, and the harts of animals are the partes of them, which are first made, and from which the forming vertue is deriued to all the rest, it were vnreasonable to seeke for their first motion any where else.

But in what manner, and by what meanes, doth it beginne there? For rootes, the difficulty is not great; for the moysture of the earth, pressing vpon the seede, and soaking into it; the hoat partes of it which were imprisoned in cold and dry ones, are thereby stirred vp and sett on worke: then they mingling themselues with that moysture, do ferment and distend the whole seede; till making it open, and breake the skinne more iuice cometh in: which incorporating it selfe with the heate, those hoat and now moyst partes will not be contained in so narrow a roome as att the first; but struggling to gett out on all sides, and striuing to enlarge thēselues; they thrust forth litle partes: which, if they stay in the earth, do grow white and make the roote: but those which ascēd, and make their way into the ayre, being lesse compressed, and more full of heate and moysture, do turne greene: and as fast as they grow vp, new moysture coming to the roote, is sent vp through the pores of it: and this faileth not, vntill the heate of the roote it selfe doth faile. For it being the nature of heate to rarify and eleuate, there must of necessity be caused in the earth a kind of sucking in of moysture into the roote frō the next partes vnto it to fill those capacities which the dilating heate hath made that else would be empty, and to supply the roomes of those which the heate continually sendeth vpwardes: for the moysture of the roote, hath a continuity with that in the earth, and therefore, they adhere together (as in a pumpe; or rather, as in filtration) and do follow one an other when any of them are in motion, and still the next must needes come in, and fill the roome, where it findeth an empty space immediate to it. The, like of which happeneth to the ayre when we breath; for our lunges being like a bladder; when we open them the ayre must needes come in, to fill that capacity which else would be empty: and when we shutt them againe; as in a paire of bellowes we putt it out.

This may suffice,2 1.254 concerning the primary motion of rootes: but in that of the hart; we shall find the matter not altogether so plaine Monsieur des Cartes following herein the steppes of the learned and ingenious Haruey, who hath inuented and teacheth that curious and excellent doctrine of the circulation of the bloud; (as indeede, what secret of nature can be hidden from so sharpe a witt, when he applyeth himselfe to penetrate into the bottome of it:) explicateth the matter much after this sort. That the hart, within, in the substance of it, is like a hollow cauerne; in whose bottome, were an hoat stone; on which should droppe as much liquour as the fiery stone could blow into smoake; and this smoake or steame, should be more then the caue could containe; wherefore it must breake out; which to do, it presseth on all sides to gett an issue or dore to lett it out: it findeth of two sortes; but only, one kind of them, will serue it for this purpose; for the one sort of these dores, openeth inwardes, the other, outwardes: which is the cause that the more it striueth to gett out, the faster it shutteth the doores of the first kinde; but by the same meanes, it beateth backe the other dores; and so getteth out.

Now when it is gone quite out of this cauerne; and consequently leaueth it to its naturall disposition; whereas before it violently stretched it out; and by doing so kept close the dores that open inwardes: then all the partes of it beginne to slacken; and those dores giue way vnto new liquour to droppe in anew; which the heate in the bottome of the hart, rarifyeth againe into smoake as before. And thus he conceiueth the motion of the hart to be made: taking the substance of it to be (as I may say) like vnto limber leather, which vpon the filling of it with bloud and steame, openeth and dilateth it selfe; and att the going of it out, it shrinketh together like a bladder.

But I doubt,3 1.255 this explication will not go through the difficulty, for first both Galen and Doctor Haruey do sh••w, that as soone as the bloud is come into the hart, it contracteth it selfe: which agreeth not with Monsieur des Cartes his supposition; for in his doctrine, there appeareth no cause why it should contract it selfe when it is full: but contrariwise, it should goe on dilating it selfe, vntill enough of the bloud which droppeth into the hart, were conuerted into steame, to force the dores open▪ that so, it may gaine an issue thence, and a passage into the body.

Next; Monsieur des Cartes supposeth that the substance of the hart is like a bladder, which hath no motion of it selfe; but openeth and shutteth, according as what is within it, stretcheth it out, or permitteth it to shrinke and fall together againe. Whereas, Doctor Haruey prooueth that when it is full, it compresseth it selfe by a quicke and strong motion, to expell that which is in it: and that when it is empty, it returneth to its naturall dilatation, figure and situation, by the ceasing of that agents working, which caused its motion. Whereby it appeareth to be of such a fibrous substance, as hath a proper motion of its owne.

Thirdly; I see not how this motion can be proportionall: for the hart must needes open and be dilated, much faster then it can be shutt and shrinke together; there being no cause putt to shutt it and to bring it to its vtmost periode of shrinking; other then the going out of the vapour, whereby it becometh empty: which vapour not being forced by any thing but by its owne inclination; it may peraduenture, att the first when there is aboundance of it, swell and stretch the hart forcibly out; but after the first impulse and breach of some part of it out of the cauerne that enclosed it; there is nothing to driue out the rest, which must therefore steame very leisurely out.

Fourthly; what should hinder the bloud from coming in, before the hart be quite empty and shrunke to its lowest pitch? For as soone as the vapour yeildeth within, new bloud may fall in from without; and so keepe the hart continually dilated, without euer suffering it to be perfectly and completely shutt.

Fifthly; the hart of a viper layed vpon a plate in a warme place will beate 24 houres; and much longer, if it be carefully taken out of its body, and the weather be warme and moyst: and it is cleare, that this is without successiō of bloud to cause the pulses of it. L••kewise, the seuered mēbers of liuing creatures, will stirre for some time after they are parted from their bodies: and in them, we can suspect no such cause of motion.

Sixthly; in Monsieur des Cartes his opinion, the hart should be hardest when it is fullest; and the eruption of the steame out of it, should be strongest att the beginning: whereas experience sheweth, that it is softest when it is att the point of being full; and hardest when it is att the point of being empty; and the motion strongest, towardes the end.

Seuenthly; in Monsieur des Cartes his way, there is no agent or force strong enough to make bloud gush out of the hart: for if it be the steame only that openeth the dores, nothing but it will goe out; and the bloud will still remaine behind, since it lyeth lower then the steame, and further from the issue that letteth it out: but Doctor Haruey findeth by experience (and teacheth how to make this experience) that when a wound is made in the hart, bloud will gush out by spurtes att euery shooting of the hart.

And lastly; if Monsieur des Cartes his supposition were true, the arteries would receiue nothing but steames; whereas it is euident that the chiefe filler of them is bloud.

4 1.256Therefore we must enquire after an other cause of this primary motion of a sensitiue creature, in the beatings of its hart. Wherein, we shall not be obliged to looke farre; for seeing we find this motion and these pulsations, in the hart when it is seperated from the body: we may boldely and safely conclude, that it must of necessity be caused by something that is within the hart it selfe. And what can that be else, but heate or spirits imprisoned in a tough viscous bloud; which it can not so presently breake through to gett out; and yet can stirre within it, and lift it vp?

The like of which motion may be obserued, in the heauing vp, and sinking downe againe of loose moulde throwne into a pitte, into which much ordure hath been emptied. The same cause, of heate in the earth▪ maketh mountaines and sandes to be cast vp in the very sea: so, in frying, when the panne is full of meate, the bubbles rise and fall att the edges: treacle, and such strong compounded substances; whiles they ferment, do lift themselues vp, and sinke downe againe, after the same manner as the vipers hart doth: as also do the bubbles of barme, and muste of wine: and short endes of lute stringes baked in a iuicy pye, will att the opening of it mooue in such sort, as they who are ignorant of the feate will thinke there are magots in it: and a hoat loafe, in which quicke-syluer is enclosed, will not only moue thus▪ but will also leape about, and skippe from one place to an other, like the head or limbe of an animal (very full of spirits) newly cutt off from its whole body.

And that this is the true cause of the harts motion, appeareth euidently. First, because this vertue of mouing, is in euery part of the hart; as you will plainely see if you cutt into seuerall pieces a hart, that conserueth its motion long after it is out of the animals belly▪ for euery piece will moue; as Doctor Haruey assureth vs by experience, and I my selfe haue often seene, vpon occasion of making the greate antidote, in which vipers harts is a principall ingredient. Secondly the same is seene in the auricles and the rest of the hart; whose motions are seuerall; though so neere together, that they can hardly be distinguished. Thirdly; Doctor Haruey seemeth to affirme that the bloud which is in the eares of the hart, hath such a motion of it selfe, precedent to the motion of the eares it is in: and that this vertue remaineth in it for a litle space after the eares are dead. Fourthly; in touching a hart which had newly left mouing, with his fingar wetted with warme spittle, it began to moue againe, as testifying that heate and moysture, made this motion. Fifthly; if you touch the vipers hart ouer with vinegar, with spiritt of wine, with sharpe white wine, or with any piercing liquour; it presently dyeth: for the acutenesse of such substances, pierceth through the viscous bloud, and maketh way for the heate to gett out.

But this first mouer of an animal, must haue something from without to stirre it vp; else, the heate would lye in it, as if it were dead; and in time would become absolutely so. In egges, you see this exteriour mouer, is the warmeth of the henne hatching thē. And in Embryōs; it is the warmeth of the mothers wombe. But when in either of them, the hart is cōplete∣ly formed, and is enclosed in the brest; much heate is likewise enclosed there, in all the partes neere about the hart; partly made by the hart it selfe; and partly caused by the outward heate, which helped also to make that in the hart: and then although the warmeth of the henne or of the mothers wombe, do forsake the hart; yet this stirreth vp the natiue h••••te within the hart and keepeth it in motion, and maketh it feede still vpon now fewell, as fast as that which it worketh vpon decayeth.

5 1.257But to expresse more particularly how this motion is effected; we are to note, that the hart hath in the ventricles of it, three sortes of fibers: the first go long wayes or are straight ones, on the sides of the ventricles from the thicke basis of the hart, towardes the litle tippe or cone of it: the second, go crosse or roundwayes about the ventricles within the hart: and the third, are transuersall or thwart ones. Next we are to remember, that the hart is fixed to the body by its base; and hangeth loose att the cone. Now then, the fibers being of the nature of such thinges as will swell and grow thicker by being moistened, and consequently shrinke vp in length and grow shorter, in proportion to their swelling thicker (as you may obserue in a loosewrought hempen roape) it must of necessity follow, that when the bloud falleth into the hart (which is of a kind of spungye substance) the fibers being there∣with moystened, they will presently swell in roundnesse and shrinke in length.

Next we are to note, that there is a double motion in the hart: the one of opening, which is called, Diastole; the other, of shutting, which is termed Systole. And although Doctor Haruey seemeth to allow the opening of the hart to be no motion; but rather a relenting from motion; neuerthelesse (me thinketh) it is manifest, that it is not only a cōplete motion, but in a manner the greater motion of the two, though indeede the lesse sensible; because it is performed by litle and litle; for in it the hart is drawne by violence frō its naturall positiō; which must be (as it is of all heauy thinges) that by which it approacheth most to the cēter of grauity; and such a position we see it gaineth by the shutting of it.

Now to declare how both these motions are effected, we are to consider how att the end of the systole the hart is voyded and cleansed of all the bloud that was in it; whence it followeth, that the weight of the bloud which is in the auricles, pressing vpon the Valuulas or dores that open inwardes, maketh its way by litle and litle into the ventricles of the hart where it must necessarily swell the fibers; and they being swelled must needes draw the hart into a roundish and capacious figure; which the more it is done, the more bloud cometh in; and with greater violence. The following effect of which must be, that the weight of the bloud ioyned to the weight of the hart it selfe, and particularly of the conus or tippe (which is more solide and heauy in proportion to its quantity, then the rest of the hart) must necessarily sett the hart into the naturall motion of descending according to its grauity: the which consequently, is performed by a liuely ierke, whereby it cometh to passe that the tippe of our hart, doth as it were spring vp towardes our brest: and the bloud is spurted out by other Voluulae (that open outwardes) which are aptly disposed to be opened vpon such a motion, and do conuey it to the arteries.

In the course of which motion, we may note how the figure of our hart contributeth to its springing vp towardes our brest; for the line of

distance which is betweene the basis and the tippe being longer on that side which is towardes the backe, then on the other which is towardes the brest,; it must happen that when the hart shutteth and straighteneth it selfe, and thereby extendeth it selfe to its length, the tippe will butte out forewardes towardes the brest.

Against this doctrine of the motion,6 1.258 and of the systole and diastole of the hart, it may be obiected, that beasts harts do not hang like a mans hart, straight downewardes; but rather horizontally, and therefore this motion of grauity can not haue place in them: neuerthelesse, we are sure they beate, and do open and shutt, regularly. Besides, if there were no other cause but this of grauity for the motion of a mans hart, it would follow that one who were sett vpon his head or hung by his heeles, could not haue the motion of his hart: which, posture neuerthelesse, we see men remaine in for a pretty while, without any extreme preiudice.

But these difficulties are easily answered; for whether beasts harts do lye directly horizontally, or whether, the basis be fastened some what higher then the tippe reacheth, and so maketh their hart hang inclining downewardes; still the motion of grauity hath its effect in them. As wee may perceiue in the hart of a viper lying vpon a plate, and in any other thing that of it selfe swelleth vp, and straight againe sinketh downe: in which we can not doubt, but that the grauity fighting against the heate, maketh the eleuated partes to fall, as the heate maketh them rise.

And as for the latter; it is euident that men can not stay long in that posture without violent accidents; and in any litle while we see that the bloud cometh into their face and other partes which naturally are situated higher; but by this position become lower then the hart: and much time is not required, to haue them quite disordered and suffocated; the bloud passing through the hart with too much quickenesse, and not receiuing due concoction there; and falling thence in too great aboundance into places that can not with conueniency entertayne it.

But you will insist, and aske, whether in that posture the hart doth moue or no, and how? And to speake by guesse in a thing I haue not yet made experiences enough to be throughly informed in; I conceiue without any great scrupule that it doth moue. And that it happeneth thus; that the hart hanging somwhat loose, must needes tūble ouer, and the tippe of it leane downewardes some way or other; and so lye in part like the hart of a beast; though not so conueniently accommodated: and then the heate which maketh the viscous bloud that is in the substance of the hart to ferment will not faile of raising it vp: where∣vpon, the weight of that side of the hart, that is lifted vp, will presently presse it downe againe. And thus, by the alternatiue operations of these causes, the hart will be made to open, and shutt it selfe, as much as is necessary for admitting and thrusting out, that litle and disorderly

coming bloud, which maketh its course through it, for that litle space wherein the man continueth in that position.

7 1.259Now from these effects wrought in the hart by the moystening of the fibers; two other effects do proceed: the one is, that the bloud is pushed out of euery corner of the hart with an impetuousnesse or velocity. The other is, that by this motion the spirits, which are in the ventricles of the hart, and in the bloud that is euen then heated there, are more and deeper pressed into the substance of the hart; so that you see, the hart imbibeth fresh vigour, and is strengthned with new spirits, whiles it seemeth to reiect that which should strengthen it.

Againe, two other effects follow this violent eiection of the bloud out of the hart. The one is, that for the present, the hart is entirely cleansed of all remainders of bloud none being permitted to fall backe to annoy it. The other is, that the hart finding it selfe dry; the fibers do relent presently into their naturall positiō and extensiō, and the valuulae that open inwardes, fall flatt to the sides of the ventricles, and conse∣quently, new bloud droppeth in. So that in conclusiō, we see, the motion of the hart, dependeth originally of its fibers irrigated by the bloud: and not from the force of the vapour as Monsieur des Cartes supposeth.

This motion of the hart, driueth the bloud (which is warmed and spiritualised, by being boyled in this furnace) through due passages into the arteries, which frō thē runneth into the veines, and is a maine cause of making and nourishing other partes; as the liuer, the lūgs, the braines, and whatsoeuer else dependeth of those veines and arteries through which the bloud goeth. Which being euer freshly heated, and receiuing the tincture of the harts nature by passing through the hart; wheresoeuer it stayeth and curdleth, it groweth into a substance of a nature confor∣mable to the hart, though euery one of such substances, be of exceeding different conditions in themselues, the very grossest excrements, not being excluded from some participation of that nature.

But if you desire to follow the bloud all along euery steppe, in its progresse from the hart round about the body, till it returne backe againe to its center, Doctor Haruey who most acutely teacheth this doctrine, must be your guide. He will shew you how it issueth from the hart by the arteries; from whence it goeth on warming the flesh, vntill it arriue some of the extremities of the body: and by then it is growne so coole (by long absence from the fountaine of its heate; and by euaporating its owne stocke of spirits, without any new supply) that it hath neede of being warmed a new; it findeth it selfe returned backe againe to the heart, and is there heated againe, which returne is made by the veines, as its going forwardes, is performed only by the arteries.

And were it not for this continuall circulation of the bloud and this new heating it in its proper cauldron, the hart; it could not be auoyded, but that the extreme partes of the body would soone grow cold and dye. For flesh, being of it selfe of a cold nature (as is apparent in dead flesh)

and being kept warme, meerely by the bloud that bedeweth it; and the bloud likewise being of a nature that soone groweth cold, and congealeath, vnlesse it be preserued in due temper by actuall heate working vpon it: how can we imagine that they two singly, without any other assistance, should keepe one an other warme (especially in those partes, that are farre distant from the hart) by only being together? Surely, we must allow the bloud, (which is a substance fitt for motion) to haue recourse backe to the hart, (where only it can be supplyed with new heate and spirits) and from thence be driuen out againe by its pulses or stroakes; which are his shuttinges. And as fast as it flyeth out, (like a reeking thicke steame, which riseth from perfumed water falling vpon a heated panne) that which is next before it, must fly yet further on, to make way for it; and new arteriall blould still issuing forth att euery pulse, it must still driue on what issued thence the last precedent pulse, and that part must presse on what is next before it. And thus it fareth with the whole masse of blould; which hauing no other course, but in the body, it must att length runne round, and by new vessels (which are the veines) returne backe vnto the place from whence it issued first: and by that time it cometh thither, it is growne coole and thicke, and needeth a vigorous restauration of spirits and a new rarifying; that then, it may warme the flesh, it passeth againe through: without which it would soddainely grow stone cold; as is manifest, if by tying or cutting the arteries, you intercept the blould, which is to nourish any part: for then that part, groweth presently cold and benummed.

But referring the particulars of this doctrine vnto Doctor Haruey (who hath both inuented and perfected it) our taske in hand calleth vpon vs to declare in common the residue of motions that all liuing creatures agree in.8 1.260 How generation is performed, we haue determined in the past discourse. Our next consideration then ought to be of Nutrition and Augmentation. Betweene which there is very litle difference in the nature of their action; and the difference of their names is grounded more vpon the different result in the periode of them, then vpon the thing it selfe: as will by and by appeare. Thus then is the progresse of this matter: as soone as a liuing creature is formed, it endeauoureth straight to augment it selfe; and employeth it selfe only about that; the partes of it being yet too yong and tender▪ to performe the other functions which nature hath•• produced them for. That is to say; the liuing creature, att its first production, is in such a state and condition as it is able to do nothing else, but (by meanes of the greate heate that is in it) to turne into its owne substance the aboundance of moysture that ouerfloweth it.

They who are curious in this matter, do tell vs that the performance of this worke consisteth in fiue actions; which they call, Attraction, Adhesion, Concoction, Assimilation and Vnition. The nature of attraction, we haue already declared when we explicated, how the hart

and the roote sendeth iuice into the other partes of the animal or plant: for they abounding in themselues with inward heate, and besides that, much other circumstant heate working likewise vpon them; it can not be otherwise, but that they must needes sucke and draw into them, the moysture that is about them.

As for adhesion, the nature of that is likewise explicated, when we shewed, how such partes as are moyst, but especially aereall or oyly ones (such as are made by the operation of a soft and continuall heate) are catching and do easily sticke vnto any body they happen to touch: and how a litle part of moysture betweene two dry partes, ioyneth them together. Vpon which occasion, it is to be noted that partes of the same kind do ioyne best together: and therefore the pouder of glasse is vsed to cimēt broken glasse with all (as we haue touched some where aboue:) and the pouder of marble to ciment marble with; and so of other bodies: in like manner, Alchymistes find no better expedient to extract a small proportion of siluer mixed with a great one of gold, then to putt more siluer to it; nor any more effectuall way to gett out the hart, or tincture, or spirits of any thing they distill or make an extract of, then to infuse its owne flegme upon it, and to water it with that. Now whether the reason of this be, that continuity, because it is an vnity, must be firmest betweene parts that are most conformable to one an other, and consequently, are most one among th••mselues; or whether it be for some other hidden cause, belongeth not to this place to discourse: but in fine so it is. And the adhesion is strongest of such partes as are most conformable to that which needeth encrease and nourishment; and that is made vp by the other three actions.

Of which, concoction is nothing else but a thickening of that iuice which already sticketh to any part of the animals body, by the good digestion that heate maketh in it. And assimilation, is the effect of concoction: for this iuice being vsed in the same manner, as the first iuice was, that made the part, wherevnto this is to be ioyned; it can not choose but become like vnto it in substance. And then, there being no other substance betweene, it is of it selfe vnited vnto it without any further helpe.9 1.261

Hitherto, this action belongeth to nutrition. But if on the one side, the heate and spirituality of the bloud; and on the otherside the due temper and disposition of the part be such, as the bloud is greedily sucked into the part, which thereby swelleth to make roome for it, and will not lett it go away, but turneth it into a like substance as it selfe is; and in greater quantity then what is consumed and decayeth continually by transpiration: then this action is called likewise augmentation Which Galen explicateth by a sport the boyes of Ionia vsed; who were accustomed to fill a bladder with wind; and when they could force no more into it, they would rubbe the bladder, and after rubbing of it, they found it capable of receiuing new breath: and so they would proceed

on, vntill their bladder were as full as by vse they knew it could be made. Now (saith he) nature doth the like, by filling our flesh, and other partes with bloud; that is to say, it stretcheth the fibers: but she hath ouer and aboue a power which the boyes had not; namely to make the fibers as strong after they are stretched to their vtmost extension, as they were before they were extended: whence it happeneth that she can extend them againe, as well as att the first; and this without end, as farre as concerneth that part.

The reason whereof is, because she extendeth them by meanes of a liquour which is of the same nature, as that whereof they were made att the first: and from thence it followeth, that by concoction that liquour settleth in the partes of the fibers which haue most neede; and so maketh those partes as great in the length they are extended vnto, as they were in their shortnesse, before they were drawne out. Whereby the whole part of the animal, wherein this happeneth, groweth greater: and the like being done in euery part, as well as in any one single one, the whole animal becometh bigger; and is in such sort augmented.

Out of all which discourse,10 1.262 we may collect that in the essentiall composition of liuing creatures, there may peraduenture be a physicall possibility for them to continue alwayes without decay; and so, become immortall, euen in their bodies, if all hurtfull accidents coming from without might be preuented. For seeing that a man, besides the encrease which he maketh of himselfe, can also impart vnto his children a vertue, by which they are able to do the like, and to giue againe vnto theirs as much as they receiued from their fathers: it is cleare, that what maketh him dye, is no more the want of any radicall power in him, to encrease or nourish himselfe; then in fire, it is the want of power to burne, which maketh it goe out. But it must be some accidentall want, which Galen attributeth chiefely to the drynesse of our bones, and sinewes &c. as you may in him see more att large; for drynesse, with density, alloweth not easy admittance vnto moysture: and therefore, it causeth the heate which is in the dry body, eyther to euaporate or to be extinguished: and want of heate, is that, from whence the failing of life proceedeth: which he thinketh can not be preuented by any art or industry.

And herein, God hath expressed his great mercy and goodnesse towardes vs: for seeing that by the corruption of our owne nature, we are so immersed in flesh and bloud as we should for euer delight to wallow in their myre without raysing our thoughts att any time aboue that low and brutall condition: he hath engaged vs by a happy necessity, to thinke of and to prouide for a nobler and farre more excellent state of liuing that will neuer change or end.

In pursuance of which ineuitable ordinance; man (as if he were growne weary and out of loue with this life; and scorned any terme in his farme here, since he can not purchase the fee simple of it) hasteneth on his death by his vnwary and rash vse of meates, which poyson his

bloud: and then, his infected bloud passing through his whole body, must needes in like manner, taynt it all att once. For the redresse of which mischiefe, the assistance of Physike is made vse of: and that, passing likewise the same way purifyeth the bloud, and recouereth the corruption occasioned by the peccant humour; or other whiles gathering it together, it thrusteth and carryeth out that euill guest by the passages contriued by nature to bisburden the body of vnprofitable or hurtfull superfluities.

THE SEVEN AND TWENTIETH CHAPTER. Of the motions of sense; and of the sensible qualities in generall; and in particular of those which belong to Touch, Tast, and Smelling.

1 1.263HAuing thus brought on the course of nature as high as liuing creatures (whole chiefe specieses or diuision, is those that haue sense) and hauing declared the operations which are common to the whole tribe of them, which includeth both plants and animals: it is now time we take a particular view of those, whose action, and passion, is the reason why that chiefe portion of life is termed sensitiue; I meane the senses, and the qualities, by which the outward world cometh into the liuing creature, through his senses. Which when we shall haue gone through, we shall scarcely haue left any qualities among bodies, to pleade for a spirituall manner of being or working; that is, for a selfe entity, and instantaneous operation: which kind of thinges and properties, vulgar Philosophy is very earnest to attribute vnto ou•• senses: with what reason, and vpon what ground lett vs now consider.

2 1.264These qualities are reduced to fiue seuerall heades; answerable to so many different wayes, whereby we receiue notice of the bodies that are without vs. And accordingly, they constitute a like number of different senses: of euery one of which, we will discourse particularly, when we haue examined the natures of the qualities that effect them. But now, all the consideration we shall need to haue of them, is only this; that it is manifest the organes in vs by which sensible qualities do worke vpon us, are corporeall, and are made of the like ingredients as the rest of our body is: and therefore, must of necessity be lyable to suffer euill and to receiue good (in such sort as all other bodies do) from those actiue qualities which make and marre all thinges within the limits of nature. By which termes of Euill and Good; I meane, those effects that are ••uerse or conformable to the particular nature of any thing: and thereby do tend to the preseruation or destruction, of that Indiuiduall.

Now we receiuing from our senses, the knowledge that we haue of thinges without vs; do giue names vnto them according to the

passions and affections, which those thinges cause in our senses: which being the same in all mankind (as long as they are considered in cōmon, and that their effects are looked vpon in grosse) all the world agreeth in one notion and in one name of the same thing; for euery man liuing is affected by it, iust as his neighbour is, and as all men else in the world are. As for example; heate or cold worketh the same feeling in euery man composed of flesh and bloud; and therefore, whosoeuer should be asked of them, would returne the same answere, that they cause such and such effects in his sense, pleasing or displeasing to him, according to their degrees, and as they tend to the good or euill of his whole body.

But if we descend to particulars, we shall find, that seuerall men of differing constitutions, do frame different notions of the same thinges, according as they are conformable or disagreeing to their natures: and accordingly they giue them different names. As when the same liquor is sweete to some mens taste; which to an others appeareth bitter: one man taketh that for a purfume; which to an other, is an offensiue smell: in the Turkesh bathes; (where there are many degrees of heate in diuers roomes, through all which the same person vseth to passe, and to stay a while in euery one of them, both att his entrance and going out, to season his body by degrees, for the contrary excesse he his going vnto) that seemeth chilly cold att his returne; which appeared melting hoat att his going in; as I my selfe haue often made experience in those countries: beauty and louelinesse will shine to one man, in the same face, that will giue auersion to an other. All which proclaymeth, that the sensible qualities of bodies, are not any positiue reall thing, consisting in an indiuisible, and distinct from the body it selfe; but are meerely the very body, as it affecteth our senses: which to discouer how they do it, must be our labour here.

Lett vs therefore beginne, with considering the difference, that is betweene sensible and insensible creatures. These latter, do lye exposed the mercy of all outward agents that frō time to time (by the cōtinuall motion which all thinges are in) do come within distance of working vpon them: and they haue no power to remoue themselues from what is auerse to their nature; nor to approach neerer vnto what comforteth it. But the others hauing within themselues a principle of motion (as we haue already declared) whensoeuer such effects are wrought vpon them, as vpon the others; they are able, vpon their owne account and by their owne action, to remoue themselues from what beginneth to annoy them, and to come neerer vnto what they find a beginning of good by.

These impressions, are made vpon those partes of vs, which we call the organes of our senses; and by them, do giue vs seasonable aduertis∣sements and knowledges whereby we may gouerne and order to the best aduantage, our litle charge of a body, according to the tune or warninges of change in the great circumstant body of the world, as

farre as it may concerne ours. Which how it is done, and by what steppes it proceedeth, shall be in the following discourse layed open.

Of this great machine that enuironneth vs, we who are but a small parcell, are not immediately concerned in euery part of it. It importeth not vs, for the conseruation of our body, to haue knowledg of other partes then such as are within the distance of working vpon vs: those only within whose sphere of actiuity we are planted, can offend or aduantage vs: and of them; some are neere vs; others, further from vs. Those that are next vnto vs; we discerne (according as they are qualifyed) eyther by our touch, or by our tast, or by our smelling; which three senses, do manifestly appeare to consist in a meere gradation of more or lesse grosse; and their operations are leuelled to the three Elements that presse vpon vs; earth, water, and ayre. By our other two senses (our hearing and our seeing) we haue notice of thinges further off: and the agents which worke vpon them, are of a more refined nature.

3 1.265But we must treat of them all in particular: and that which we will beginne with, shall be the touch, as being the grossest of them, and that which conuerseth with none, but the most materiall and massye obiects. We see it dealeth with heauy consistent bodies; and iudgeth of them by coniunction vnto them, and by immediate reception of something from them. And according to the diuers impressions they make in it; it distinguisheth them by diuers names; which (as we said of the qualities of mixed bodies) are generally reduced to certaine payres; as hoat and cold, wett and drye, soft and hard, smooth and rough, thicke and thinne, and some others of the like nature; which were needelesse to enumerate, since we pretend not to deliuer the science of them, but only to shew that they and their actions, are all corporeall.

And this is sufficiently euident, by meere repeating but their very names; for it is plaine, by what we haue already said; that they are nothing else but certaine affections of quantity, arising out of different degrees of rarity and density compounded together. And it is manifest by experience, that our sense receiueth the very same impressions from them, which an other body doth; for our body, or our sense will be heated by fire; and will also be burned by it, if the heate be too great, as well as wood: it will be constipated by cold water, moystened by humide thinges, and dryed by dry bodies, in the same manner as any other body whatsoeuer; likewise, it may in such sort as they, be wounded and haue its continuity broken by hard thinges; be pleased and polished, by those that are soft and smooth; be pressed by those that are thicke and heauy; and be rubbed by those that are rugged &c.

So that those masters, who will teach vs that the impressions vpon sense are made by spirituall or spiritelike thinges or qualities; which they call intentionall specieses, must labour att two workes: the one to make it appeare that there are in nature such thinges as they would persuade vs; the other to proue that these materiall actions we speake of are not

able to performe those effects, for which the senses are giuen vnto liuing creatures. And vntill they haue done that, I conceiue we should be much too blame to admitt such thinges, as we neyther haue ground for in reason, nor can vnderstand what they are. And therefore, we must resolue to rest in this beliefe, which experience breedeth in vs: that these bodies worke vpon our senses no other wayes then by a corporeall operation; and that such a one is sufficient for all the effects we see proceede from them: as in the processe of this discourse we shall more amply declare.

The element immediately next to earth in grossenesse,4 1.266 is water. And in it is the exercise of our tast, our mouth being perpetually wett within: by meanes of which moysture, our tongue receiueth into it, some litle partes of the substance which we chewe in our teeth, and which passeth ouer it. You may obserue how, if we take any herbe or fruite; and hauing chopped or beatē it small, we thē putt it into a wooden dish of water and do squeese it a litle; the iuice, communicating and mingling it selfe with; the water, infecteth it with the tast of it selfe, and remaining a while in the bowle sinketh by litle and litle into the very pores of the wood: as is manifest, by its retaining a long time after, the tast and smell of that herbe. In like manner, nature hath taught vs, by chewing our meate, and by turning it into our mouthes and pressing it a litle (that we may the more easily swallow it) to imbue our spittle with such litle partes as easily diffuse themselues in water. And then our spittle being continuate to the moysture, which is within our tongue, (in such sort as we declared of the moysture of the earth, that soaketh into the roote of a plant) and particularly in the sinewes of it; must of necessity affect those litle sensible stringes with the qualities which these petty bodies, mixed euery where with the moysture, are themselues imbued withall.

And if you aske what motions or qualities these be: Physitians (vnto whom it belongeth most particularly to looke into them) will tell you, that some dilate the tongue more, and some lesse; as if some of these litle bodies had an aereall, and others a watry disposition: and these two, they expresse by the names of sweete and fatty. That some, do contract and draw the tongue together; as choaky and rough thinges do most; and next to them, crabby and immature sharpenesse. That some do corrode and pierce the tongue; as salt and soure thinges. That bitter thinges do search the outside of it, as if they swept it: and that other thinges, do as it were pricke it; as spices and hoat drinkes. Now all these are sensible materiall thinges; which admitt to be explicated clearely, by the varieties of rarity and density concurring to their compositions: and are so proportionable to such materiall instruments as we can not doubt but that they may be throughly declared by our former principles.

The next element aboue water,5 1.267 is ayre; which our nosethrilles, being our instrument to sucke in, we can not doubt but what affecteth a man by his nose, must come vnto him in breath or ayre. And as humidity

receiueth grosser and weightier partes; so those which are more subtile and light, do rise vp into the ayre: and these we know attaine vnto this lightnesse, by the commixtion of fire, which is hoat and dry. And therefore, we can not doubt, but that the nature of smell is more or lesse tending to heate and drought: which is the cause that their commixtion with the braine, proueth comfortable vnto it; because of its owne dispo∣sition it is vsually subiect to be too moyst and too cold.

Whether there be any immediate instrument of this sense, to receiue the passion or effect, which by it, other bodies make vpon vs; or whether the sense it selfe, be nothing but a passage of these exhalations and litle bodies vnto the braine, fittly accommodated to discerne, what is good, or hurtfull for it, and accordingly to moue the body to admitt or reiect them; importeth not vs att present to determine: lett Physitians and Anatomistes resolue that question; whiles it sufficeth vs to vnderstand, that the operations of bodies by odours vpon our sense, are performed by reall and solide partes of the whole substance; which are truly materiall, though very litle, bodies; and not by imaginary qualities.

6 1.268And those bodies, when they proceed out of the same thinges that yield also tastiue particles, (although without such materiall violence, and in a more subtile manner) must of necessity haue in them the same nature, which those haue that affect the taste; and they must both of them, affect a man much alike, by his taste and by his smell: and so, are very proportionate to one an other; excepting in those properties which require more cold or liquidity, then can well stand with the nature of a smell. And accordingly, the very names which men haue imposed, to expresse the affections of both do many times agree: as sauour, which is common both to the smell and to the taste; and sweete likewise: the strongest of which, we see oftentimes do make themselues knowne, as well by the one as by the other sense: and eyther of them in excesse, will turne a mans stomake. And the Physitians that write of these senses find them very conformable: and therefore it happeneth that the loosing of one of them, is the losse also of the other.

And experience teacheth vs in all beastes, that the smell is giuen vnto liuing creatures, to know what meates are good for them, and what are not. And accordingly, we see them still smell for the most part, att any vnknowne meate before they touch it; which seldome fayleth of informing them rightly: nature hauing prouided this remedy against the gluttony, which could not choose but follow the conuenient disposition and temper of their partes and humors; through which they often swallow their meate greedily and soddainely without expecting to trye it first by their taste. Besides that many meates are so strong, that their very tasting them after their vsuall manner, would poyson or att the least greately annoy them: and therefore nature hath prouided this sense to preuent their taste; which being farre more subtile

then their taste; the small atomes by which it is performed, are not so very noxious to the health of the animal, as the other grosser atomes are.

And doubtlessely, the like vse men would make of this sense,7 1.269 had they not on the one side better meanes then it to know the qualities of meates: and therefore, this is not much reflected vpon. And on the other side, were they not continually stuffed and clogged with grosse vapours of steamy meates, which are dayly reeking from the table and their stomakes; and permitt not purer atomes of bodies, to be discerned; which require cleare and vninfected organes to take notice of them. As we see it fare with dogges; who haue not so true and sensible noses, when they are high fed, and lye in the kitchin amiddest the steames of meate; as when they are kept in their kennell, with a more spare diett fitt for hunting.

One full example, this age affordeth vs in this kind, of a man whose extremity of feare, wrought vpon him to giue vs this experiment. He was borne in some village of the country of Liege: and therefore among strangers, he is knowne by the name of Iohn of Liege. I haue beene informed of this story by seuerall (whom I dare confidently beleeue) that haue had it from his owne mouth; and haue questioned him with great curiosity, particularly about it.

When he was a litle boy, there being warres in the country (as that State is seldome without molestations from abroad, when they haue no distempers att home, which is an vnseparable effect of a countries situation vpon the frontiers of powerfull neigbouring Princes that are att variance) the village of whence he was, had notice of some vnruly scattered troopes that were coming to pillage them: which made all the people of the village fly hastily with what they could carry with them, to hide themselues in the woods: which were spacious enough to afford them shelter, for they ioyned vpon the forest of Ardenne. There they lay, till some of their scoutes brought them word, that the souldiers of whom they were in such apprehension, had fired their towne and quitted it. Then all of them returned home, excepting this boy; who, it seemeth, being of a very timorous nature, had images of feare so strong in his fansie; that first, he ranne further into the wood then any of the rest; and afterwardes apprehended that euery body he saw through the thickets, and euery voyce he heard was the souldiers: and so hidd himselfe from his parents, that were in much distresse seeking him all about, and calling his name as loud as they could. When they had spent a day or tw•• in vaine, they returned home without him, and he liued many yeares in the woods, feeding vpon rootes, and wild fruites, and maste.

He said that after he had beene some time in this wild habitation, he could by the smell iudge of the tast of any thing that was to be eaten:

and that he could att a great distance wind by his nose, where wholesome fruites or rootes did grow. In this state he continued (still shunning men with as great feare as when he first ranne away; so strong the impression was, and so litle could his litle reason master it) vntill in a very sharpe winter, that many beastes of the forest perished for want of foode; necessity brought him to so much confidence, that leauing the wild places of the forest, remote from all peoples dwellinges, he would in the eueninges steale among cattle that were fothered; especially the swine, and among them, gleane that which serued to sustaine wretchedly his miserable life. He could not do this so cunningly, but that returning often to it, he was vpon a time espyed: and they who saw a beast of so strange a shape (for such they tooke him to be; he being naked and all ouer growne with haire) beleeuing him to be a satyre, or some such prodigious creature as the recounters of rare accidents tell vs of; layed wayte to apprehend him. But he that winded them as farre off, as any beast could do, still auoyded them, till att the length, they layed snares for him; and tooke the wind so aduantagiously of him, that they caught him: and then, soone perceiued he was a man▪ though he had quite forgotten the vse of all language: but by his gestures and cryes, he expressed the greatest affrightednesse that might be. Which afterwardes, he said (when he had learned anew to speake) was because he thought, those were the souldiers he had hidden himselfe to auoyde, when he first betooke himselfe to the wood; and were alwayes liuely in his fansie, through his feares continually reducing them thither.

This man within a litle while after he came to good keeping and full feeding, quite lost that acutenesse of smelling which formerly gouerned him in his taste; and grew to be in that particular as other ordinary men were. But att his first liuing with other people, a woman that had compassion of him to see a man so neere like a beast; and that had no language to call for what he wished or needed to haue; tooke particular care of him; and was alwayes very sollicitous to see him furnished with what he wanted: which made him so apply himselfe vnto her in all his occurrents, that whensoeuer he stood in neede of ought, if she were out of the way, and were gone abroad into the fieldes, or to any other village neere by, he would hunt her out presently by his sent, in such sort as with vs those dogges vse to do which are taught to draw dry foote. I imagine he his yet aliue to tell a better story of himselfe then I haue done; and to confirme what I haue here said of him: for I haue from them who saw him but few yeares agone, that he was an able strong man, and likely to last yet a good while longer.

And of an other man, I can speake assuredly my selfe, who being of a very temperate or rather spare diett, could likewise perfectly discerne by his smell the qualities of whatsoeuer was afterwardes to passe the examination of his taste, euen to his bread and beere. Wherefore to conclude it is euident both by reason, and by experience, that the obiects

of our touch, our taste, and our smell, are materiall and corporeall thinges, deriued from the diuision of quantity, into more rare and more dense partes; and may with ease, be resolued into their heades and springes sufficiently to content any iuditious and rationall man. Who if he be curious to haue further satisfaction in this particular (as farre as concerneth odours and sauours) may looke ouer what Ioannes Brauus (that iuditious, though vnpolished Physitian of Salamanca) hath written thereof.

THE EIGHT AND TWENTIETH CHAPTER. Of the sense of hearing, and of the sensible quality sound.

BVt to proceede with the rest of the senses: because nature saw that some thinges came soddainely vpon a liuing creature;1 1.270 which might do it hurt, if they were not perceiued a farre off: and that other thinges were placed att distance from it, which would greatly helpe it, if it could come neere vnto them; she found a meanes to giue vs two senses more, for the discouery of remote thinges. The one principally and particularly to descry their motion. The other to marke their bulke and situation.

And so to beginne with the former of these; we must needes acknow∣ledge (after due examination of the matter) that the thing which we call sound▪ is purely motion. And if it be obiected that many motions are made without any discernable sound. We shall not make difficulty to grant it; considering that many motions dye, before they come to touch the eare; or else are so weake, that they are drowned by other stronger motions, which round about besiege our eares in such manner, that notice is not taken of these: for so it fareth in what dependeth meerely of quantity, especially, concerning our senses, that not euery thing of the kind, but a determinate quantity or multitude of parts of it, maketh an obiect sensible.

But to come close to the point; we see that sound, for the most part, is made in the ayre; and that to produce it, there is required a quicke and smart motion of that Element, which, of all the rest, is the most moueable. And in motion, velocity or quickenesse, is proportionate to density in magnitude (as we haue att large declared.) Which maketh quantity become perceptible in bulke, as this doth in motion. And as the one consisteth in a greater proportion of substance to the same quantity; so the other doth in the passage of more partes of the medium in the same time.

2 1.271And in the moderating of this, such of the liberall artes are employed, which belong to the cultiuating mans voyce; as Rhetorike, meetering, and singing. It is admirable how finely Galileo hath deliuered vs the consonances of musike towardes the end of his first Dialogue of motion; from the 95 page forward on: and how he hath shewed that matter clearely vnto the sight (so making the eye, as well as the eare iudge of it) in motions of the water, in pendants hanging loose in the ayre, and in permanent notes or races made vpon letton. To the moderation of the same, many other mechanicall artes are applyed; as the trade of bellfounders; and of all makers of musicall instruments by wind, or by water, or by strings.

Neyther can I slippe ouer without mentioning the two curious artes of Ecchoing and of whispering. The first of which, teacheth to iterate voyces seuerall times; and is frequently putt in practise by those that are delighted with rarities in their gardens. And the other, sheweth how to gather into a narrow roome the motions of the ayre, that are diffused in a great extent; whereby, one that shall putt his eare to that place, where all the seuerall motions do meete, shall heare what is spoken so lowe, as no body betweene him, and the speaker, can discerne any sound att all. Of which kind, there are very fine curiosities in some churches of England: and my selfe haue seene, in an vpper roome of a capacious round tower vaulted ouerhead, the walles so contriued (by chance, I beleeue) that two men standing att the vtmost opposite poyntes of the Diameter of it, could talke very currently and clearely with one an other; and yet none that stoode in the middle could heare a syllable. And if he turned his face to the wall and spoke against that (though neuer so softly) the others eare, att the opposite poynt, would discerne euery word. Which putteth me in minde of a note made by one that was no frend to auricular confession; vpon his occasion of his being with me in a church that had been of a Monastery; where, in one corner of it, one might sitt and heare almost all that was whispered through the whole extent of the church: who would not be persuaded but that it was on purpose contriued so by the suttlety of the fryars; to the end that the Prior or some one of them, might sitt there and heare whatsoeuer the seuerall Penitents accused themselues of to their Ghostly fathers; so to make aduantage by this artifice, of what the confessors durst not of themselues immediately reueale.

He allowed better of the vse in Rome of making voyces rebound from the toppe of the cupula of st: Peters in the Vatican, downe to the floore of the church; when on great dayes they make a quire of musike goe vp to the very highest▪ part of the arch: which is into the lanterne, from whence whiles they sing, the people below iust vnder it, are surprised with the smart sound of thaeir voices, as though they stoode close by them, and yet can see no body from whom those notes should p••oceede. And in the same cupula, if two men stand vpon the large

cornish or bord, which circleth the bottome of it, they may obserue the like effect, as that which I spoke of aboue in the round tower.

In the like manner they that are called ventriloqui, do persuade ignorant people that the Diuell speaketh from within them deepe in their belly) by their sucking their breath inwardes in a certaine manner whiles they speake: whence it followeth that their voice seemeth to come, not from them, but from somewhat else hidden within them; if (att the least) you perceiue it cometh out of them: but if you do not, then it seemeth to come from a good way off.

To this art belongeth the making of sarabatanes, or trunkes, to helpe the hearing; and of Eccho glasses, that multiply soundes, as burning glasses, do light. All which artes, and the rules of them, do follow the lawes of motion; and euery effect of them is to be demonstrated by the principles and proportions of motion: and therefore, we can not with reason imagine them to be any thing else.

Wee see likewise, that great noises,3 1.272 not only offend the hearing, but euen shake houses and towers. I haue beene told by inhabitants of Douer; that when the Arch Duke Albertus made his great battery against Calais (which for the time was a very furious one; for he endeauoured all he could to take the towne before it could be relieued) the very houses were shakē, and the glasse windowes were shiuered, with the report of his artillery. And I haue beene told by one that was in Seuill, when the gunnepouder house of that towne (which was some two miles distant from the place where he liued) was blowne vp, that it made the wodden shutters of the windowes in his house, beate and clappe against the walles with greate violence, and did splitte the very walles of a faire church that standing next it (though att a good distance) had no other building betweene to shelter it from the impetuosity of the ayres soddaine violent motion.

And after a fight I once had with some galleasses and Galliones in the roade of Scanderone (which was a very hoat one for the time, and a scarce credible number of pieces of ordinance were shott from my fleete) the English Consull of that place coming afterwardes aboard my shippe, tould me that the report of our gunnes, had, during all the time of the fight, shaken the drinking glasses that stood vpon shelues in his house; and had splitte the paper windowes all about; and had spoyled and cracked all the egges that his pigeons were then sitting vpon: which losse, he lamented exceedingly; for they were of that kind, which commonly is called Carriers, and serue them dayly in their commerce betweene that place and Aleppo.

And I haue often obserued att sea, in smooth water, that the ordinance shott of in a shippe some miles distant, would violently shake the glasse windowes in an other. And I haue perceiued this effect in my owne, more then once, att the report of a single gunne from a shippe so farre off, that we could not descry her. I remember how one time, vpon such an

occasion, we altered our course and steared with the sound, or rather with the motion att the first, obseruing vpon which poynt of the compasse the shaking appeared (for as yet we heard nothing; though soone after with much attention and silence we could discerne a dull clumsy noise: and such a motion groweth att the end of it so faint that if any strong resisting body checke it in its course, it is presently deaded, and will afterwardes shake nothing beyond that body: and therefore it is perceptible only att the outside of the shippe, if some light and very moueable body do hang loosely on that side it cometh, to receiue the impression of it; as this did att the gallery windowes of my cabin vpon the poope, which were of light moscouia glasse or talke:) and by then we had runne somewhat more then a watch, with all the sayles abroad we could make, and in a faire loome gale, we found our salues neere enough to part the fray of two shippes, that in a litle while longer fighting would haue sunke one an other.

4 1.273But besides the motions of the ayre (which receiueth them easily, by reason of the fluidity of it) we see that euen solide bodies do participate of it. As if you knocke neuer so lightly att one end of the longest beame you can find, it will be distinctly hard att the other end: the trampling of men and horses in a quiet might, will be heard some miles off, if one lay their eare to the ground; and more sensibly if one make a litle hole in the earth, and putt ones eare into the mouth of it; but most of all if one sett a drumme smooth vpon the ground, and lay ones eare to the vpper edge of it; for the lower membrane of the drumme, is shaked by the motion of the earth, and then multiplyeth that sound by the hollow figure of the drumme in the conueying it to the vpper membrane, vpon which your eare leaneth. Not much vnlike the tympane or drumme of the eare; which being shaked by outward motion, causeth a second motion on the inside of it correspondent to this first; and this hauing a free passage to the braine, striketh it immediately and so informeth it how thinges moue without: which is all the mystery of hearing.

5 1.274If any thing do breake or stoppe this motion▪ before it shake our eare, it is not heard. And accordingly we see that the sound of belles or artillery is heard much further if it haue the conduct of waters, then through the pure ayre: because in such bodies the great continuity of them maketh that one part can not shake alone, and vpon their superficies, there is no notable vneuenesse, nor no dense thing in the way to checke the motion (as in the ayre, hilles, buildinges, trees and such like:) so that the same shaking goeth a great way. And to confirme that this is the true reason, I haue seuerall times obserued, that standing by a riuers side, I haue heard the sound of a ring of belles, much more distinctly and lowde, then if I went some distance from the water, though neerer to the steeple from whence the sound came.

And it is not only the motion of the ayre, that maketh sound in our

eares:6 1.275 but any motion that hath accesse to them in such a manner as to shake the quiuering membranous tympane within them, will represent vnto vs those motions which are without, and so make such a sound there as if it were conueyed only by the ayre. Which is plainely seene, when a man lying a good way vnder water, shall there heare the same soundes, as are made aboue in the ayre: but in a more clumsie manner; according as the water, by being thicker, and more corpulent is more vnwieldy in its motions. And this I haue tryed often; staying vnder water as long as the necessity of breathing would permitt me. Which sheweth that the ayre being smartly moued, moueth the water also, by meanes of its continuity with it; and that liquid element, being fluide and getting into the eare, maketh vibrations vpon the drumme of it like vnto those of ayre.

But all this is nothing in respect of what I might in some sort say,7 1.276 and yet speake truth. Which is that I haue seene one, who could discerne soundes with his eyes. It is admirable, how one sense will oftentimes supply the want of an other: whereof I haue seene an other strange example in a different straine from this; of a man that by his grosser senses had his want of sight wonderfully made vp. He was so throughly blind, that his eyes could not informe him when the sunne shined; for all the crystalline humour was out in both his eyes: yet his other senses instructed him, so efficaciously in what was their office to haue done; as what he wanted in them, seemed to be ouerpayed in other abilities. To say that he would play att cardes and tables as well as most men; is rather a commendation of his memory and fansye, then of any of his outward senses. But that he should play well att boules and shouelbord, and other games of ayme, which in other men do require cleare sight, and an exact leuell of the hand, according to the qualities of the earth or table, and to the situation and distance of the place he was to throw att, seemeth to exceede possibility: and yet he did all this.

He would walke in a chamber or long alley in a garden (after he had beene a while vsed to them) as straight, and turne as iust att the endes, as any seeing man could do. He would go vp and downe euery where so confidently, and demeane himselfe att table so regularly, as strangers haue sitten by him seuerall meales, and haue seene him walke about the house, without euer obseruing any want of seeing in him: which he endeauoured what he could to hide, hy wearing his hatt low vpon his browes. He would, att the first abord of a stranger, as soone as he spoke to him, frame a right apprehension of his stature, bulke and manner of making. And which is more, when he taught his schollers to declame (for he was schoolemaster to my sonnes, and liued in my house) or to represent some of Senecas Tragedies, or the like, he would by their voice know their gesture, and the situation they putt their bodies in: so that he would be able, as soone as they spoke, to iudge whether they stood or sate, or in what posture they were; which made them demeane themselues as

decently, before him whiles they spoke, as if he had seene them perfectly.

Though all this be very strange, yet me thinkes his discerning of light is beyond it all. He would feele in his body, and chiefely in his braine (as he hath often told me) a certaine effect by which he did know when the sunne was vp; and would discerne exactly a cleare from a cloudy day. This I haue knowne him frequently do without missing, when for triall sake he hath beene lodged in a close chamber, wherevnto the cleare light or sunne could not arriue to giue him any notice by its actuall warmeth; nor any body could come to him, to giue him priuate warninges of the changes of the weather.

8 1.277But this is not the relation I intended, when I mentioned one that could heare by his eyes; (if that expression may be permitted me) I then reflected vpon a noble man of great quality that I knew in Spaine, the yonger brother of the Constable of Castile. But the reflection of his seeing of words, called into my remembrance the other that felt light: in whom I haue often remarked so many strange passages, with amazement and delight; that I haue aduentured vpon the Readers patience to recorde some of them, conceiuing they may be of some vse in our course of doctrine. But the spanish lord, was borne deafe; so deafe, that if a gunne were shott off close by his eare, he could not heare it: and consequently, he was dumbe; for not being able to heare the sound of words; he could neither imitate nor vnderstand them. The louelinesse of his face and especially the exceeding life and spiritefulnesse of his eyes, and the comelinesse of his person and whole composure of his body throughout, were pregnant signes of a well tempered mind within. And therefore all that knew him, lamented much the want of meanes to cultiuate it, and to imbue it with the notions which it seemed to be capable of in regard of its selfe; had it not been so crossed by this vnhappy accident. Which to remedy Physitians and Chirurgions had long imployed their skill; but all in vaine. Att the last, there was a priest who vndertooke the teaching him to vnderstand others when they spoke, and to speake himselfe that others might vnderstand him. What att the first he was laught att for; made him after some yeares be looked vpon as if he had wrought a miracle. In a word; after strange patience, constancy and paines; he brought the yong Lord to speake as distinctly as any man whosoeuer; and to vnderstand so perfectly what others said that he would not loose a word in a whole dayes conuersation.

They who haue a curiosity to see by what steppes the master proceeded in teaching him, may satisfy it by a booke which he himselfe hath writt in Spanish vpon that subiect, to instruct others how to teach deafe and dumbe persons to speake. Which when he shall haue looked heedefully ouer; and shall haue considered what a great distance there is betweene the simplicity and nakednesse of his first principles; and the

strange readinesse and vast extent of speech resulting in processe of time out of them; he will forbeare pronuncing an impossibility in their pedigree, whiles he wondereth att the numerous effects resulting in bodies out of rarity and density, ingeniously mingled together by an all knowing Architect, for the production of various qualities among mixtes, of strange motions in particular bodies, and of admirable operations of life and sense among vegetables and animals. All which, are so many seuerall wordes of the mysticall language, which the great master hath taught his otherwise dumbe schollers (the creatures) to proclayme his infinite art, wisedome, perfections, and excellency in.

The priest who by his booke and art, occasioned this discourse, I am told is still aliue, and in the seruice of the Prince of Carignan, where he continueth (with some that haue neede of his paines) the same employment as he did with the Constables Brother: with whom I haue often discoursed, whiles I wayted vpon the Prince of Wales (now our gratious Soueraigne) in Spaine. And I doubt not but his maiesty remembreth all I haue said of him and much more: for his maiesty was very curious to obserue and enquire into the vtmost of it. It is true, one great misbecomingnesse he was apt to fall into, whiles he spoke: which was an vncertainty in the tone of his voyce; for not hearing the sound he made when he spoke, he could not steedily gouerne the pitch of his voyce; but it would be sometimes higher sometimes lower; though for the most part, what he deliuered together, he ended in the same key as he begunne it. But when he had once suffered the passages of his voyce to close, att the opening them againe, chance, or the measure of his earnestnesse to speake or to reply, gaue him his tone: which he was not capable of moderating by such an artifice, as is recorded Caius Gracchus vsed, when passion, in his orations to the people, droue out his voyce with too great a vehemence or shrillenesse.

He could discerne in an other, whether he spoke shrill or lowe: and he would repeate after any body, any hard word whatsoeuer. Which the Prince tryed often; not only in English, but by making some Welchmen that serued his Highnesse, speake wordes of their language. Which he so perfectly ecchoed, that I confesse I wondered more att that, then att all the rest. And his Master himselfe would acknowledge, that the rules of his art, reached not to produce that effect with any certainety. And therefore concluded, this in him must spring from other rules he had framed vnto himselfe, out of his owne attentiue obseruation: which, the aduantage that nature had iustly giuen him in the sharpenesse of his other senses, to supply the want of this; endowed him with an ability and sagacity to do, beyond any other man that had his hearing. He expressed it (surely) in a high measure, by his so exact imitation of the welch pronunciation: for that tongue (like the Hebrew) employeth much the gutturall letters: and the motions of that part which frameth them, can not be seene nor iudged by the eye, otherwise then by the effect they

may happely make by consent in the other partes of the mouth, exposed to view: for the knowledge he had of what they said, sprung from his obseruing the motions they made; so that he could conuerse currently in the light, though they he talked with, whispered neuer so softly. And I haue seene him att the distance of a large chambers breadth, say wordes after one, that I standing close by the speaker could not heare a syllable of. But if he were in the darke, or if one turned his face out of his sight, he was capable of nothing one said.

9 1.278But it is time that we returne to our theame, from whence my blind schoolemaster, and this deafe Prince (whose defects were ouerpayed an other way) haue carryed vs with so long a digression. Which yet will not be altogether vselesse (no more then the former, of the wilde man of Liege) if we make due reflections vpon them: for when we shall consider, that odors may be tasted; that the relish of meates may be smelled; that magnitude and figure may be heard; that light may be felt; and that soundes may be seene; (all which is true in some sense) we may by this chāging the offices of the senses, and by looking into the causes thereof; come to discerne that these effects are not wrought by the interuention of ayery qualities; but by reall and materiall applications of bodies to bodies; which in different manners do make the same results within vs.

But when I suffered my penne to be steered by my fansie, that pleased it selfe, and rioted in the remembrance of these two notable persons: I was speaking, how the strong continuity of the partes of a thing that is moued, draweth on the motion, and consequently the sound, much further then where that which is moued suffereth breaches, or the rarity of it occasioneth that one part may be moued without an other; for to the proportion of the shaking, the noyse cōtinueth. As we see in trēbling belles, that humme a great while longer then others, after the clapper hath strucken them: and the very sound, seemeth to quiuer and shake in our eares, proportionable to the shaking of the bell. And in a lute as long as a string that hath been strucken, shaketh sensibly to our eye; so long, and to the same measure, the sound shaketh in our eare. Which is nothing else but an vndulation of the ayre, caused by the smart and thicke vibrations of the corde, and multiplyed in the belly of the instrument (which is the reason that the concaue figure is affected in most) and so, when it breaketh out of the instrument in greater quantity, then the string immediately did shake; it causeth, the same vndulations in the whole body of ayre round about. And that, striking the drumme of the eare, giueth notice there in what tenour the string moueth: whose vibrations if one stoppe by laying his fingar vpon it, the Sound is instantly att an end, for then there is no cause on foote, that continueth the motion of the ayre: which, without a continuation of the impulse; returneth speedily to quiett; through the resistance made vnto it, by other partes of it that are further off.

Out of all which, it is plaine, that motion alone is able to effect, and to giue account of all thinges whatsoeuer that are attributed to sound; and that sound and motion, do goe hand in hand together; and that whatsoeuer is said of the one, is likewise true of the other. Wherefore it can not be denyed but that hearing is nothing else but the due perception of motion: and that motion and sound are in themselues one and the same thing, though expressed by different names, and comprised in our vnderstanding vnder different notions. Which proposition seemeth to be ••et further conuinced, by the ordinary experience of perceiuing musike by mediation of a sticke: for how should a de••fe man be capable of musike by holding a sticke in his tee••h, whose other end lyeth vpon the vyall or virginals, were it not that the proportionall shaking of the sticke (working a like dauncing in the mans head) did make a like motion in his braine, without passing through his eare? and consequently, without being otherwise sound, then as bare motion is sound.

Or if any man will still persist in hauing sound be some other thing then as we say; and that it affecteth the sense otherwise then purely by motion: he must neuerthelesse acknowledge, that whatsoeuer it be, it hath neyther cause nor effect, nor breeding, nor dying, that we eyther know or can imagine: and then, if he will lett Reason sway, he will conclude it vnreasonable to say or suspect so ill grounded a surmise, against so cleare and solide proofes: which our eares themselues do not a litle confirme; their whole figure and nature tending to the perfect receiuing, conseruing, and multiplying the motions of ayre which happen without a man: as who is curious, may plainely see in the Anato∣mistes bookes and discourses.

THE NINE AND TWENTIETH CHAPTER. Of Sight; and Colours.

THere is yet left,1 1.279 the obiect of our sight, which we call colour, to take a suruey of; for as for light, we haue att large displayed the nature and properties of it: from which whether colour be different or no, will be the question we shall next discusse: for those who are cunning in Optikes; will, by refractions and by reflexions make all sortes of colours out of pure light: as we see in Rainebowes, in those triangular glasses, or prismes which some do call fooles Paradises, and in other inuentions for this purpose. Wherefore, in briefe, to shew what colour is, lett vs lay for a ground, that light is of all other thinges in the worl••, the greatest and the most powerfull agent vpon our eye; eyther by it selfe, or by what cometh in with it: and that, where light is not, darkenesse is; then consider, that light being diuersly to be cast, but

especially, through or from a transparent body, into which it sinketh in part, and in part it doth not: and you will conclude, that it can not choose but come out from such a body, in diuers sortes mingled with darkenesse: which if it be in a sensible quantity, doth accordingly make diuers appearances: and those appearances must of necessity haue diuers hues, representing the colours which are middle colours betweene white and blacke; since white is the colour of light; and darkenesse seemeth blacke. Thus, those colours are ingendred, which are called apparent ones. And they appeare sometimes but in some one position; as in the raynebow; which changeth place as the looker on doth: but att other times, they may be seene from any part; as those which light maketh by a double refraction through a triangular glasse.

And that this is rightly deliuered, may be gathered out of the conditions requisite to their production: for that crystall, or water, or any refracting body, doth not admitt light in all its partes, is euident, by reason of the reflexion that it maketh, which is exceeding great: and not only from the superficies, but euen from the middle of the body within: as you may see plainely, if you putt it in a darke place, and enlighten but one part of it: for then, you may perceiue, as it were, a current of light passe quite through the body, although your eye be not opposite to the passage: so that, manifestly it reflecteth to your eye, from all the inward partes which it lighteth vpon.

Now a more oblique reflexion or refraction doth more disperse the light, and admitteth more priuations of light in its partes, then a lesse oblique one: as Galileo hath demonstrated in the first Dialogue of his systeme. Wherefore, a lesse oblique reflexion or refraction, may receiue that in quality of light, which a more oblique one maketh appeare mingled with darkenesse; and consequently, the same thing will appeare colour in one, which sheweth it selfe plaine light in the other; for the greater the inclination of an angle is, the greater also is the dispersion of the light.

And as colours are made in this sort, by the medium through which light passeth, so if we conceiue the superficies from which the light reflecteth, to be diuersly ordered in respect of reflexion; it must of necessity follow that it will haue a diuers luster and sight: as we see by experience in the neckes of pigeons, and in certaine positions of our eye, in which the light passing through our eye browes, maketh an appea∣rance as though we saw diuers colours streaming from a candle we looke vpon. And accordingly we may obserue how some thinges, or rather most, do appeare of a colour more inclining to white, when they are irradiated with a great light, then when they stand in a lesser. And we see painters heighten their colours, and make them appeare lighter by placing deepe shadowes by them: euen so much, that they will make obiects appeare neerer and further of, meerly by their mixtion of their colours. Because, obiects, the neerer they are, the more strongly and

liuely they reflect light, and therefore, appeare the clearer, as the others do more dusky.

Therefore,2 1.280 if we putt the superficies of one body to haue a better disposition for the reflexion of light, then an other hath; we can not but conceiue, that such difference in the superficies, must needes begett variety of permanent colours in the bodies. And according as the superficies of the same body, is better, or worse disposed to reflexion of light, by polishing, or by compressure together, or the like: so, the same body, remaining the same in substance, will shew it selfe of a different colour. And it being euident that white (which is the chiefest colour) doth reflect most light: and as euident, that blacke reflecteth least light, so that it reflecteth shadowes in lieu of colours (as the O••sidian stone among the Romanes doth witnesse.) And it being likewise euident, that to be dense and hard, and of small partes, is the disposition of the obiect which is most apt to reflect light: we can not doubt, but that white is that disposition of the superficies. That is to say, it is the superficies of a body consisting of dense, of hard, and of small partes; and on the contrary side, that blacke is the disposition of the superficies, which is most soft and full of greatest pores; for when light meeteth with such a superficies, it getteth easily into it; and is there, as it were absorpt and hidden in caues, and cometh not out againe to reflect towardes our eye.

This doctrine of ours of the gene••ation of colours,3 1.281 agreeth exactly with Aristotles principles, and followeth euidently out of his definitions of light, and of colours And for summing vp the generall sentiments of mankind in making his Logicall definitions, I thinke no body will deny his being the greatest Master that euer was He defineth light to be actus Diaphani: which we may thus explicate. It is that thing, which maketh a body that hath an aptitude or capacity of being seene quite through it in euery interior part of it, to be actually seene quite through, according to that capacity of it. And he defineth colour to be, The terme or ending of a diaphanous body: the meaning whereof is: that colour is a thing which mak••th a diaphanous body to reach no further; or that colour is the cause why a body is no further diaphanous, then vntill where it beginneth; or that colour, is the reason, why we can see no further then to such a degree, through or into such a body.

Which definition fitteth most exactly with the thing it giueth vs the nature of. For it is euident, that when we see a body, the body we see, hindereth vs from seeing any other, that is in a straight line beyond it. And therefore it can not be denyed, but that colour terminateth, and endeth the diaphaneity of a body, by making it selfe be seene. And all men do agree in conceiuing this, to be the nature of colour; and that it is a certaine disposition of a body, whereby that body cometh to be seene. On the other side, nothing is more euident, then that to haue vs see a body, light must reach from that body to our eye. Then adding vnto

this what Aristotle teacheth concerning the production of seeing: which he sayth is made by the action of the seene body vpon our sense: it followeth that the obiect must worke vpon our sense, eyther by light; or att the least with light; for light rebounding from the obiect round about by straight lines, some part of it must needes come from the obiect to our eye. Therefore, by how much an obiect sendeth more light vnto our eye, by so much, that obiect worketh more vpon it.

Now seeing that diuers obiects do send light in diuers manners to our eye, according to the diuers natures of those obiects in regard of hardenesse, density, and litlenesse of partes: we must agree that such bodies do worke diuersely, and do make different motions or impressiōs vpon our eye: and consequētly, the passion of our eye from such obiects must be diuers. But there is no other diuersity of passion in the eye from the obiect in regard of seeing, but that the obiect appeare diuers to vs in point of colour. Therefore we must conclude, that diuers bodies (I meane diuers or different, in that kind we here talke of) must necessarily seeme to be of diuers colours, meerely by the sending of light vnto our eye in diuers fashions. Nay, the very same obiect must appeare of different colours, whensoeuer it happeneth that it reflecteth light differently to vs. As we see in cloth, if it be gathered together in fouldes, the bottomes of those fouldes shew to be of one kind of colour, and the toppes of them, or where the cloth is stretched out to the full percussion of light, it appeareth to be of an other much brighter colour. And accordingly painters are faine to vse almost opposite colours to expresse them. In like manner if you looke vpon two pieces of the same cloth, or plush, whose graines lye contrawise to one an other, they will likewise appeare to be of different colours. Both which accidents, and many others like vnto them in begetting various representations of colours; do all of them arise out of lightes being more or lesse reflected from one part then from an other.

4 1.282Thus then you see, how colour is nothing else, but the disposition of a bodies superficies, as it is more or lesse apt to reflect light; sithence the reflexion of light is made from the superficies of the seene body, and the variety of its reflexion begetteth variety of colours. But a superficies is more or lesse apt to reflect light, according to the degrees of its being more or lesse penetrable by the force of light striking vpon it; for those rayes of light that gaine no entrance into a body they are darted vpon, must of necessity fly backe againe from it. But if light doth gett entrance and penetrate into the body▪ it eyther passeth quite through it; or else it is swallowed vp and lost in that body. The former, constituteth a diaphanous body; as we haue already determined. And the semblance which the latter will haue in regard of colour, we haue also shewed must be blacke.

But lett vs proceede a little further. We know that two thinges render a body penetrable, or easie to admitt an other body into it. Holes, (such

as we call pores) and softnesse or humidity; so that dryenesse, hardnesse, and compactednesse, must be the properties which render a body impenetrable. And accordingly we see, that if a diaphanous body (which suffereth light to runne through it) be much compressed beyond what it was; as when water is compressed into yce; it becometh more visible, that is, it reflecteth more light: and consequently, it becometh more white; for white is that, which reflecteth most light.

On the cōtrary side, softnesse, vnctuousnesse, and viscousnesse, encreaseth blacknesse: as you may experience in oyling or in greasing of wood; which before was but browne; for thereby it becometh more blacke; by reason that the vnctuous partes added vnto the other, do more easily then they single, admitt into them the light that striketh vpon them; and when it is gotten in, it is so entangled there (as though the winges of it were birdlimed ouer) that it can not fly out againe. And thus it is euident, how the origine of all colours in bodies, is plainely deduced out of the various degrees of rarity and density, variously mixed and compounded.5 1.283

Likewise, out of this discourse, the reason is obuious why some bodies, are diaphanous, and others are opacous: for sithence it falleth out in the constitution of bodies, that one is composed of greater partes then an other: it must needes happen that light be more hindered in passing through a body composed of bigger partes, then an other whose partes are lesse. Neyther doth it import that the pores be supposed as great as the partes, for be they neuer so large, the corners of the thicke partes they belong vnto, must needes breake the course of what will not bowe, but goeth all in straight lines; more then if the partes and pores were both lesser; since, for so subtile a piercer as light, no pores can be too litle to giue it entrance. It is true such great ones would better admitt a liquid body into them, such a one as water or ayre; but the reason of that is, because they will bowe and take any plye, to creepe into those cauities, if they be large enough, which light will not do.

Therefore it is cleare, that freedome of passage can happen vnto light, only there, where there is an extreme great multitude of pores and partes in a very litle quantity or bulke of body (which pores and partes must consequently be extreme litle ones) for, by reason of their multitude, there must be great variety in their situation: from whence it will happen that many lines must be all of pores quite through; and many others all of partes; although the most, will be mixed of both pores and partes. And so we see that although the light do passe quite through in many places, yet it reflecteth from more, not only in the superficies but in the very body it selfe of the diaphanous substance. But in an other substāce of great partes, and pores there can be but few whole lines of pores, by which the light may passe from the obiect to make it be seene; and consequently it must be opacous; which is the contrary of Diaphanous that admitteth many rayes of light, to passe through it

from the obiect to the eye, whereby it is seene, though the Diaphanous hard body, do interuene betweene them.

6 1.284Now if we consider the generation of these two colours (white and blacke) in bodies; we shall find that likewise to iustify and second our doctrine: for white thinges are generally cold and dry; and therefore, are by nature ordained to be receptacles, and conseruers of heat, and of moysture; as Physitians do note. Contrariwise, blacke, as also greene, (which is neere of kinne to blacke) are growing colours, and are the dye of heate incorporated in aboundance of wett: as we see in smoake, in pittecoale, in garden ground, and in chymicall putrefactions: all which are blacke; as also in yong herbes; which are generally greene as long as they are yong and growing. The other colours, keeping their standing betwixt these, are generated by the mixture of them; and according as they partake more or lesse of eyther of them, are neerer or further off from it.

So that after all this discourse, we may conclude in short; that the colour of a body, is nothing else, but the power which that body hath of reflecting light vnto the eye, in a certaine order and position: and consequently, is nothing else but the very superficies of it, with its asperity, or smoothnesse; with its pores, or inequalities; with its hardenesse, or softnesse; and such like. The rules and limits whereof, if they were duely obserued and ordered, the whole nature and science of colours, would easily be knowne and be described. But out of this litle which we haue deliuered of this subiect, it may be rightly inferred that reall colours do proceed from Rarity and Density (as euen now we touched) and haue their head and spring there: and are not strange qualities in the ayre: but are tractable bodies on the earth, as all others are, which as yet we haue found and haue meddled with all: and are indeed, the very bodies themselues, causing such effects vpon our eye by reflecting of light, which we expresse by the names of colours.

THE THIRTIETH CHAPTER. Of luminous or apparente Colours.

1 1.285AS for the luminous colours, whose natures art hath made more maniable by vs, then those which are called reall colours, and are permanent in bodies: their generation is cleerely to be seene in the Prisme or triangular glasse we formely mentioned. The considering of which, will confirme our doctrine, that euen the colours of bodies, are but various mixtures of light and shadowes, diuersly reflected to our eyes. For the right vnderstanding of them, we are to note, that this glasse maketh apparitions of colours in two sorts: the one, when looking through it,

there appeare various colours in the obiects you looke vpon (different from their reall ones) according to the position you hold the glasse in when you looke vpon them. The other sort is, when the beames of light that passe through the glasse, are as it were tincted in their passage, and are cast by the glasse vpon some solide obiect, and do appeare there in such and such colours, which do continue still the same, in what position soeuer you stand to looke vpon them; eyther before, or behind, or on any side of the glasse.

Secondly,2 1.286 we are to note that these colours are generally made by refraction (though sometimes it may happen otherwise, as aboue we haue mentioned.) To discouer the reason of the first sort of colours, that appeare by refraction when one looketh through the glasse: lett vs suppose two seuerall bodies, the one blacke, the other white, lying close by one an other, and in the same horizontall parallele; but so, that the blacke be further from vs then the white; then, if we hold the Prisme through which we are to see these two oppositely coloured bodies some∣what aboue them; and that side of it att which the coloured bodies must enter into the glasse to come to our eye, parallele vnto those bodies; it is euident, that the blacke will come into the prisme by lesser angles thē the white: I meane that in the line of distance from that face of the glasse att which the colours do come in, a lōger line or part of blacke will subtend an angle, no bigger then a lesser line or part of white doth subtend.

Thirdly,3 1.287 we are to note, that from the same poynt of the obiect, there come various beames of light to that whole superficies of the glasse; so that it may, and sometimes doth happen, that from the same part of the obiect, beames may be reflected to the eye, from seuerall partes of that superficies of the glasse att which they enter. And whensoeuer this happeneth, the obiect must necessarily be seene in diuers partes: that is, the picture of it will att the same time appeare to the eye in diuers places. And particularly, we may plainely obserue two pictures, one a liuely and strong one; the other a faint and dimme one. Of which the dimme one will appeare neerer vs, then the liuely one: and is caused by a secondary ray: or rather I should say, by a longer ray, that striking neerer to the hither ••dge of the glasses superficies (which is the furthest from the obiect) maketh a more acute angle then a shorter ray doth, that striketh vpon a part of the glasse further from our eye, but neerer the obiect. And therefore the image which is made by this secondary or longer ray, must appeare both neerer and more dusky, then the image made by the primary and shorter ray. And the further from the obiect that the glasse through which it reflecteth is situated (keeping still in the same parallele to the horizon) the further the place where the second dusky picture appeareth, is from the place where the primary strong picture appeareth.

If any man haue a mind to satisfy himselfe by experience, of the truth of this note, lett him place a sheete of white paper vpon a blacke carpett

couering a table, so as the paper may reach within two or three fingers of the edge of the carpet, (vnder which, lett there be nothing to succeed the blacke of the carpet, but the empty dusky ayre) and then lett him sett himselfe at a conuenient distance, (the measure of which is, that the paper appeare at his feete, when he looketh through the glasse) and looke at the paper through his Prisme situated in such sort as we haue aboue determined, and he will perceiue a whitish or lightsome shadow proceed from the liuely picture that he seeth of white, and shoote out neerer towardes him then that liuely picture is, and he will discerne that it cometh into the glasse through a part of it neerer to his eye or face, and further from the obiect then the strong image of the white doth. And further, if he causeth the neerer part of the paper to be couered with some thinne body of a sadder colour, this dimme white vanisheth: which it doth not if the further part of the paper be couered. Whereby it is euident, that it is a secondary image, proceeding from the hither part of the paper.

4 1.288Now then to make vse of what we haue said, to the finding out of the reason why the red and blew and other colours appeare when one looketh through a prisme: lett vs proceede vpon our former example, in which a white paper lyeth vpon a blacke carpett (for, the diametrall opposition of those colours, maketh them most remarkable) in such sort that there be a parcell of blacke on the hither side of the paper: and therein, lett vs examine according to our groundes, what colours must appeare at both endes of the paper looking vpon them through the triangular glasse.

To beginne with the furthest end, where the blacke lyeth beyond the white: we may consider, how there must come from the blacke, a secondary darke mysty shadow (besides the strong blacke that appeareth beyond the paper) which must shoote towardes you (in such sort as we said of the whitish lightsome shadow) and consequently, must lye ouer the strong picture of the white paper: now in this case, a third middling colour must result out of the mixture of these two extremes of blacke and white; since they come to the eye, almost in the same line, at the least in lines that make so litle a difference in their angles as it is not discernable.

The like whereof happeneth in clothes, or stuffes, or stockings, that are wouen of diuers coloured but very small thriddes: for if you stand so farre of from such a piece of stuffe, that the litle thriddes of different colours which lye immediate to one an other may come together as in one line to your eye; it will appeare of a middling colour, different from both those that it resulteth from: but if you stand so neere that each thridde sendeth rays enough to your eye, and that the basis of the triāgle which cometh from each thridde to your eye, be long enough to make att the vertex of it (which is in your eye) an angle bigg enough to be seene singly by it selfe; then each colour will appeare apart as it truly is.

Now the various natures of middling colours we may learne of painters; who compose them vpon their palettes by a like mixture of the extremes. And they tell vs, that if a white colour preuaile strongly ouer a darke colour, reds and yellowes result out of that mixture: but if blacke preuaile strongly ouer white, then, blewes, violets, and seagreenes are made. And accordingly, in our case, we can not doubt but that the primarily liuely picture of the white, must preuaile ouer the faint dusky sable mantle with which it cometh mingled to the eye: and doing so, it must needes make a like appearance as the sunnes beames do, when reflecting from a blacke cloud, they fringe the edges of it with red and with yellow; and the like he doth, when he looketh through a rainy or a windy cloude: and much like herevnto, we shall see this mixture of strong white with a faint shaddow of blacke, make at this brimme of the paper, a faire ledge of red; which will end and vanish, in a more light∣some one of yellow.

But at the hither edge of the paper, where the secondary weake picture of white is mingled with the strong blacke picture, in this mixture, the blacke is preualent, and accordingly (as we said of the mixture of the painters colours) there must appeare at the bottome of the paper, a lembe of deepe blew: which will grow more and more light∣some, the higher it goeth: and so, passing through violet and seagreene it will vanish in light, when it reacheth to the mastering field of primary whitenesse, that sendeth his stronger rayes by direct lines: and this transposition of the colours at the seuerall endes of the paper sheweth the reason why they appeare quite contrary, if you put a blacke paper vpon a white carpet. And therefore, we neede not adde any thing particularly concerning that.

And likewise,5 1.289 out of this we may vnderstand, why the colours appeare quite contrary (that is, red where before blew appeared; and blew, where red) if we looke vpon the same obiect through the glasse in an other position or situation of it: namely, if we rayse it so high, that we must looke vpwardes to see the obiect; which thereby appeareth aboue vs: whereas in the former situation, it came in through the lower super∣ficies, and we looked downe to it, and it appeared vnder vs: for in this second case, the obiects coming into the glasse by a superficies not parallele as before, but sloaping, from the obiectwardes: it followeth, that the neerer the obiect is, the lesser must the angle be, which it maketh with the superficies; contrary to what happened in the former case: and likewise, that if from one poynt of the neerer obiect, there fall two rayes vpon the glasse, the ray that falleth vppermost, will make a lesser angle, then the other that falleth lower: and so, by our former discourse, that poynt may come to appeare in the same place with a poynt of the further obiect; and thereby make a middling colour.

So that in this case, the white which is neerer, will mingle his feeble picture with the blacke that is further off; whereas before the blacke that

was further off, mingled his feeble shadow with the strong picture of the neerer white. Wherefore by our rule we borrowed of the painters, there will now appeare a blew on the further end off the paper, where before appeared a red; and by consequence on the neerer end a red will now appeare, where in the former case a blew appeared. This case we haue chosen, as the plainest to shew the nature of such colours: out of which he that is curious, may deriue his knowledge to other cases, which we omit; because our intent is only to giue a generall doctrine, and not the particulars of the science: and rather to take away admiration, then to instruct the Reader in this matter.

6 1.290As for the various colours, which are made by strayning light through a glasse, or through some other diaphanous body; to discouer the causes and variety of them, we must examine what thinges they are that do concurre to the making of them: and what accidents may arriue vnto those thinges, to vary their product. It is cleare, that nothing interueneth or concurreth to the producing of any of these colours, besides the light it selfe which is dyed into colour, and the glasse or diaphanous body through which it passeth. In them therefore, and in nothing else, we are to make our enquiry.

To beginne then, we may obserue, that light passing through a Prisme, and being cast vpon a reflecting obiect, is not alwayes colour; but in some circumstances it still continueth light, and in others it becometh colour. Withall we may obserue that those beames which continue light, and endure very litle mutation by their passage, making as many refractions, do make much greater deflexions from the straight lines by which they came into the glasse, then those rayes do which turne to colour; as you may experience, if you oppose one surface of the glasse perpendicularly to a candle, and sett a paper (not irradiated by the candle) opposite to one of the other sides of the glasse: for vpon the paper, you shall see faire light shine without any colour: and you may perceiue, that the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by which the light cometh to the paper, is almost perpendicular to tha•• ••ine by which the light cometh to the prisme. But when light becometh colour, it stricketh very obliquely vpon one side of the glasse; and cometh likewise, very obliquely out of the other, that sendeth it in colour vpon a reflectent body; so that in conlusion, there is nothing left vs wherevpon to ground the generation of such colours, besides the litlenesse of the angle and the sloapingnesse of the line, by which the illuminant striketh one side of the glasse, and cometh out at the other, whem colours proceed from such a percussion.

To this then we must wholy apply our selues: and knowing that generally, when light falleth vpon a body with so great a sloaping or inclination, so much of it as getteth through, must needes be weake and much diffused; it followeth that the reason of such colours, must necessaryly consist in this diffusion and weakenesse of light; which the more it is diffused, the weaker it groweth; and the more lines of

darkenesse, are betweene the lines of light, and do mingle themselues with them.

To confirme this, you may obserue, how iust at the egresse from the prisme of that light which going on a litle further becometh colours, no colour at all appeareth vpon a paper opposed close to the side of the glasse; vntill remouing it further off, the colours beginne to shew themselues vpon the edges: thereby conuincing manifestly, that it was the excesse of light which hindered them from appearing at the first. And in like manner, if you putt a burning glasse betweene the light and th•• prisme, so as to multiply the light which goeth through the prisme to the paper, you destroy much of the colour by conuerting it into light. But on the other side, if you thicken the ayre, and make it du••ky wi••h smoake, or with dust; you will plainely see, that where the light cometh through a conuexe glasse (perpendicularly opposed to the illuminant) there will appeare colours on the edges of the cones that the light maketh: and peraduenture the whole cones would appeare coloured if the darkening were conueniently made: for if an opacous body, be sett within eyther of the cones, its sides will appeare coloured, though the ayre be but moderately thickned: which sheweth that the addition of a litle darkenesse, would make that which otherwise appeareth pure light, be throughly dyed into colours. And thus you haue the true and adequate cause of the appearance of such colours.

Now,7 1.291 to vnderstand what colours, and vpon which sides, will appeare: we may consider, that when light passeth through a glasse, or other diaphanous body, so much of it as shineth in the ayre, or vpon some reflecting body bigger then itself, after its passage through the glasse, must of necessity haue darkenesse on both sides of it; and so be cōprised and limited by two darkenesses: but if some opacous body, that is lesse then the light, be putt in the way of the light, then it may happen contrarywise, that there be darkenesse (or the shadow of that opacous body) betweene two lights.

Againe, we must consider, that when light falleth so vpon a prisme as to make colours, the two outward rayes which proceed from the light to the two sides of the superficies at which the light entereth, are so refracted that at their coming out againe through the other superficies, that ray which made the lesse angle with the outward superficies of the glasse, going in, maketh the greater angle with the outside of the other superficies, coming out: and contrarywise, that ray which made the greater angle, going in, maketh the lesser, at its coming out: and the two internall angles, made by those two rayes, and the outside of the superficies they issue at, are greater then two right angles: and so we see that the light dilateth it selfe at its coming out.

Now, because rayes that issue through a superficies, the neerer they are to be perpendiculars vnto that superficies, so much the thicker they are: it followeth, that this dilatation of light at its coming out of the

glasse, must be made and must encrease frō that side where the angle was least at the going in, and greatest at the coming out: so that, the neerer to the contrary side you take a part of light, the thinner the light must be there: and contrariwise, the thicker it must be, the neerer it is vnto the side where the angle at the rayes coming out is the greater. Wherefore, the strongest light, (that is, the place where the light is least mixed with darkenesse) must be neerer that side then the other. Consequently here∣vnto, if by an opacous body you make a shadow comprehended within this light, that shadow must also haue its strongest part, neerer vnto one of the lights betwixt which it is comprised, then vnto the other: for, shadow being nothing else, but the want of light, hindered by some opacous body; it must of necessity lye auersed from the illuminant, iust as the light would haue layen if it had not beene hindered. Wherefore, seeing that the stronger side of light, doth more impeach the darkenesse, then the feebler side doth; the deepest darke must incline to that side, where the light is weakest; that is, towardes that side on which the shadow appeareth, in respect of the opacous body or of the illuminant, and so, be a cause of deepenesse of colour on that side, if it happen to be fringed with colour.

THE ONE AND THIRTIETH CHAPTER. The causes of certaine appearances in luminous Colours; with a conclusion of the discourse touching the senses and the sensible qualities.

1 1.292OVt of these groundes, we are to seeke the resolution of all such symptomes as appeare vnto vs in this kind of colours. First therefore calling to mind, how we haue already declared, that the red colour is made by a greater proportion of light mingled with darkenesse, and the blew with a lesse proportion: it must follow, that when light passeth through a glasse in such sort as to make colours; the mixture of the light and darkenesse on that side where the light is strongest will incline to a red: and their mixture on the other side, where the light is weakest, will make a violet or blew: and this we see to fall out accordingly, in the light which is tincted by going through a prisme; for a red colour appeareth on that side from which the light doth dilate or decrease, and a blew is on that side towardes which it decreaseth.

Now, if a darke body be placed within this light, so as to haue the light come on both sides of it: we shall see the contrary happen about the borders of the picture or shadow of the darke body: that is to say, the red colour will be on that side of the picture which is towardes or ouer against the blew colour that is made by the glasse: and the blew of

the picture, will be on that side which is towardes the red that is made by the glasse, as you may experience if you place a slender opacous body a long the prisme in the way of the light, eyther before or behind the prisme. The reason whereof is; that the opacous body standing in the middle, enuironned by light, diuideth the light, and maketh two lights of that which was but one; each of which lights, is comprised betweene two darkenesses, to witt, betweene each border of shadow that ioyneth to each extreme of the light that cometh from the glasse, and each side of the opacous bodies shadow. Wherefore, in each of these lights; or rather in each of their commixtions with darkenesse, there must be red on the one side, and blew on the other; according to the course of light which we haue explicated.

And thus it falleth out agreable to the rule we haue giuen, that blew cometh to be on that side of the opacous bodies shadow, on which the glasse casteth red, and red on that side of it on which the glasse casteth blew: likewise when light going through a conuexe glasse maketh two cones, the edges of the cone betwixt the glasse and the point of concurse will appeare red, if the roome be darke enough: and the edges of the further cone, will appeare blew, both for the reason giuen: for in this case the point of concurse is the strong light betwixt the two cones: of which, that betwixt the glasse and the point, is the stronger, that beyond the point, the weaker: and for this very reason, if an opacous body be put in the axis of th••se two cones, both the sides of its picture will be red, if it be held in the first cone which is next to the glasse; and both will be blew if the body be situated in the further cone; for both sides being equally situated to the course of the light, within its owne cone, there is nothing to vary the colours, but only the strength and the weakenesse of the two lights of the cones, on this side, and on that side the point of concurse: which point, being in this case the strong and cleare light whereof we made generall mention in our precedent note, the cone towardes the glasse and the illuminant, is the stronger side, and the cone from the glasse, is the weaker.

In those cases, where this reason is not concerned, we shall see the victory carried in the question of colours, by the shady side of the opacous body: that is, the blew colour will still appeare, on that side of th•• opacous bodies shadow that is furthest from the illuminant. But where both causes do concurre and contrast for precedence, there the course of the light carryeth it: that is to say, the red will be on that side of the opacous bodies shadow, where it is thicker and darker, and blew on the other side where the shadow is not so strong; although the shadow be cast that way that the red appeareth: as is to be seene, when a slender body is placed betwixt the prisme and the reflectent body, vpon which the light and colours are cast through the prisme: and it is euident, that this cause of the course of the shadow, is in it selfe a weaker cause, then the other of the course of light, and must giue way vnto it whensoeuer

they encounter (as it can not be expected, but that in all circumstances▪ shadowes should to light) because the colours which the glasse casteth in this case, are much more faint and dusky then in the other.

For effects of this later cause, we see that when an opacous body lyeth crosse the prisme, whiles it standeth endwayes, the red or blew colour, will appeare on the vpper or lower side of its picture, according as the illuminant is higher or lower thē the transuerse opacous body: the blew euer keeping to that side of the picture, that is furthest from the body, and the illuminant that make it: and the red the contrary; likewise if an opacous body be placed out of the axis, in eyther of the cones we haue explicated before, the blew will appeare on that side of the picture which is furthest aduanced in the way that the shadow is cast: and the red, on the contrary: and so, if the opacous body be placed in the first cone (beside the axis) the red will appeare on that side of the picture in the basis of the second cone, which is next to the circumference; and the blew, on that side which is next the axis: but if it be placed on one side of the axis in the second cone, then the blew will appeare on that side the picture which is next the circumference; and the red, on that side which is next the center of the basis of the cone.

2 1.293There remayneth yet one difficulty of moment to be determined: which is why, when through a glasse, two colours (namely blew and red) are cast from a candle vpon a paper or wall, if you put your eye in the place of one of the colours that shineth vpon the wall, and so that colour cometh to shine vpon your eye, in such sort that an other man who looketh vpon it, will see that colour plainely vpon your eye, neuerthelesse, you shall see the other colour in the glasse? As for example, if on your eye there shineth a red, you shall see a blew in the glasse; and if a blew shineth vpon your eye, you shall see a red.

The reason hereof is, that the colours which appeare in the glasse, are of the nature of those luminous colours which we first explicated, that arise from looking vpon white and blacke bordering together: for a candle standing in the ayre, is as it were a white situated betweene two blackes: the circumstant dusky ayre, hauing the nature of a blacke: so then, that side of the candle which is seene through the thicker part of the glasse, appeareth red; and that which is seene through the thinner, appeareth blew: in the same manner as when we looke through the glasse; whereas, the colours shine cōtrarywise vpon a paper or reflecting obiect, as we haue already declared, together with the reasons of both these appearances; each fitted to its proper case, of looking through the glasse vpon the luminous obiect serrownded with darkenesse, in the one; and of obseruing the effect wrought by the same luminous obiect in some medium or vpon some reflectent superficies, in the other.

And to confirme this, if a white paper be sett standing hollow before the glasse (like halfe a hollow pillar, whose flatt standeth edgewayes towardes the glasse, so as both the edges may be seene through it) the

further edge will seeme blew and the neerer will be red; and the like will happen, if the paper be held in the free ayre parallele to the lower superficies of the glasse, without any blacke carpet to limit both endes of it (which serueth to make the colours the smarter) so that in both cases, the ayre serueth manifestly for a blacke; in the first, betweene the two white edges; and in the second, limiting the two white endes: and by consequence, the ayre about the candle must likewise serue for two blackes, including the light candle betweene them.

Seuerall other delightfull experiments of luminous colours I might produce, to confirme the groundes I haue layed, for the nature and making of them. But I conceiue that these I haue mentioned, are aboundantly enough for the end I propose vnto my selfe: therefore I will take my leaue of this supple and nice subiect; referring my Reader (if he be curious to entertaine himselfe with a full variety of such shining wonders) to our ingenious countryman and my worthy frend, Mr. Hall: who at my last being at Liege, shewed me there most of the experiences I haue mentioned; together with seuerall other very fine and remarkable curiosities concerning light; which he promised me he would shortly publish in a worke, that he had already cast and almost finished vpon that subiect: and in it, I doubt not but he will giue entire satisfaction to all the doubts and Problemes that may occurre in this subiect: whereas my litle exercise formerly, in making experiments of this kind, and my lesse conueniency of attempting any now, maketh me content my selfe with thus spinning of a course thridde frō wooll carded me by others, that may runne through the whole doctrine of colours, whose causes haue hitherto beene so much admired: and that it will do so, I am strōgly persuaded, both because if I looke vpō the causes which I haue assigned a priori, me thinkes they appeare very agreeable to nature and to reason; and if I apply them to the seuerall Phoenomēs which M^r. Hall shewed me, and to as many others, as I haue otherwise mett with, I find they agree exactly with them, and render a full account of them.

And thus, you haue the whole nature of luminous colours, resolued into the mixtion of light and darkenesse: by the due ordering of which, who hath skill therein, may produce any middle colour he pleaseth: as I my selfe haue seene the experience of infinite changes in such sort made; so that it seemeth vnto me, nothing can be more manifest, then that luminous colours are generated in the way that is here deliuered. Of which how that gentle and obedient Philosophy of Qualities (readily obedient to what hard taske soeuer you assigne it) will render a rationall account; and what discreet vertue, it will giue the same thinges to produce different colours, and to make different appearances, meerely by such nice changes of situation, I do not well vnderstand: but peraduenture the Patrones of it, may say that euery such circumstance is a Conditio sine qua non: and therewith (no doubt) their Auditors will be much the wiser in comprehending the particular nature of light,

and of the colours that haue their origine from it.

3 1.294The Rainebow, for whose sake most men handle this matter of luminous colours, is generated in the first of the two wayes we haue deliuered for the production of such colours: and hath its origine from refraction, when the eye being at a conuenient distance from the refracting body, looketh vpon it to discerne what appeareth in it. The speculation of which may be found in that excellent discourse of Monsieur des Cartes, which is the sixt of his Meteors; where he hath with great acuratenesse deliuered a most ingenious doctrine of this mystery: had not his bad chance of missing in a former principle (as I conceiue) somewhat obscured it. For he there giueth the cause so neate, and so iustly calculated to the appearances, as no man can doubt but that he hath found out the true reason of this wonder of nature, which hath perplexed so many great witts: as may almost be seene with our very eyes; when looking vpon the fresh deaw in a sunneshiny morning, we may in due positions perceiue the raynebow colours, not three yardes distant from vs: in which we may distinguish euen single droppes with their effects. But he hauing determined the nature of light to consist in motion, and proceeding consequently, he concludeth colours to be but certaine kindes of motion: by which I feare it is impossible that any good account should be giuen of the experiences we see.

But what we haue already said in that point, I conceiue is sufficient to giue the reader satisfaction therein: and to secure him, that the generation of the colours in the rainebow, as well as all other coulours, is likewise reduced to the mingling of light and darkenesse: which is our principall intent to proue: adding therevnto by way of aduertissement, for others whose leisure may permitt them to make vse thereof, that who shall ballance the proportions of luminous colours, may peraduenture make himselfe a steppe to iudge of the natures of those bodies, which really and constantly do weare like dyes; for, the figures of the least partes of such bodies, ioyntly with the connexion or mingling of them with pores, must of necessity be that which maketh them reflect light vnto our eyes, in such proportions, as the luminous colours of their tincture and semblance do.

For two thinges are to be considered in bodies, in order to reflecting of light: eyther the extancies and cauities of them; or their hardenesse and softenesse. As for the first; the proportions of light mingled with darkenesse will be varied, according as the extancies or the cauities do exceed, and as each of them is great or small: since cauities haue the nature of darknesse, in respect of extancies, as our moderne Astronomers do shew, when they giue account of the face (as some call it) in the orbe of the moone. Likewise in regard of soft or of resistent partes, light will be reflected by them, more or lesse strongly, that is, more or lesse mingled with darkenesse; for whereas it reboundeth smartly backe, if it striketh vpon a hard and a resistent body, and accordingly

〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••hew it selfe in a bright colour: it must of necessity not reflect at all, 〈…〉〈…〉 very f••ebly, if it penetrateth into a body of much humidity, or if ••••••oseth it selfe in the pores of it▪ and that litle which cometh so weakely from it, must consequently appeare of a dusky dye: and these two, being all the causes of the great variety of colours we see in bodies, according to the quality of the body, in which the reall colour appeareth, it may easily be determined from which of them it proceedeth: and then, by the colour, you may iudge of the composition and mixture of the rare and dense partes, which by reflecting light begetteth it.

In fine,4 1.295 out of all we haue hitherto said in this Chapter, we may conclude the primary intent of our so long discourse; which is, that as well the senses of liuing creatures, as the sensible qualities in bodies, are made by the mixtion of rarity and density, as well as the naturall qualities we spoke of in their place: for it can not be denyed but that heate and cold, and the other couples or payres, which beate vpon our touch, are the very same as we see in other bodies: the qualities which moue our tast and smell, are manifestly a kinne and ioyned with them: ligh•• we haue concluded to be fire: and of motion (which affecteth our eare) it is not disputable: so that it is euident, how all sensible qualities, are as truly bodies, as those other qualities which we call naturall.

To this we may adde, that the proprieties of these sensible qualities, are such as proceed euidently from rarity and density; for (to omitt those which our touch taketh notice of, as too plaine to be questioned) Physitians iudge and determine the naturall qualities of meates, and of medecines, and of simples, by their tastes and smels: by those qualities they find out powers in them to doe materiall operatiōs; and such as our instrumēts for cutting, filing, brushing, and the like, doe vnto ruder and grosser bodies. All which vertues, being in these instruments by the different tempers of rarity and density, is a conuincing argument, that it must be the same causes, which must produce effects of the same kind in their smels and tastes: and as for light, it is knowne how corporeally it worketh vpon our eyes.

Againe, if we looke particularly into the composition of the organes of our senses; we shall meet with nothing but such qualities as we find in the composition of all other naturall bodies. If we search into our eye, we shall discouer in it nothing but diaphaneity, softenesse, diuers colours, and consistencies; which all Anatomistes, to explicate, doe parallele in other bodies: the like is of our tongue, our nosethrilles, and our eares. As for our touch; that is so materiall a sense, and so diffused ouer the whole body, we can haue no difficulty about it. Seeing then that all the qualities we can discouer in the organes of our senses, are made by the various minglings of rarity with density, how can we doubt, but that the actiue powers ouer these patients, must be of the same nature and kind.

Againe, seing that the examples aboue brought, doe conuince, that the obiects of one sense, may be knowne by an other; who can doubt of a

community among them, if not of degree, at ••••e least of the whole kind? As we see that the touch, is the groundworke of all the rest; and consequently, that being euidently corpore••••••, and consisting in a temper of rarity and density, why should we m••••e difficulty in allowing the like of the rest?

Besides, lett vs compose of rarity and density, such tempers as we find in our sēses; and lett vs againe compose of rarity and density, such actors, as we haue determined the qualities, which we call sensible, to be; and will it not manifestly follow, that these two applyed to one an other, must produce such effects, as we affirme our senses haue? that is, to passe the outward obiects, by different degrees, vnto an inward receiuer.

5 1.296Againe, lett vs cast our eyes vpon the naturall resolution of bodies, and how they moue vs, and we shall th••reby discouer, both what the senses are, and why they are iust so many, and that they can not be more. For an outward body may moue vs, eyther in its owne bulke or quantity; or as it worketh vpon an other. The first is done by the touch: the second by the eare, when a body mouing the ayre, maketh vs take notice of his motion. Now in resolution, there are three actiue partes proceeding from a body, which haue power to moue vs. The fiery part; which you see worketh vpon our eyes, by the vertue of light. The ayry part, which we know moueth our nosethrilles, by being sucked in with the ayre. And lastly the salt; which dissolueth in water, and so moueth our watry sense; which is our taste.

And these being all the actiue partes, that shew themselues in the resolution of a body; how can we imagine there should be any more senses to be wrought vpon? for what the stable body sheweth of it selfe, will be reduced to the touch: what as it moueth, to hearing: what the resolutions of it, according to the nature of the resolued atomes that fly abroade; will concerne the other three senses, as we haue declared. And more wayes of working, or of actiue partes, we can not conceiue to spring out of the nature of a body.

Finally, if we cast our eyes vpon the intention of nature: to what purpose are our senses, but to bring vs into knowledge of the natures of the substances we conuerse with all? surely, to effect this, there can not be inuented a better, or more reasonable expedient, then to bring vnto our iudgement seate the likenesses or extractes of those substances, in so delicate a modell, that they may not be offensiue or cumbersome; like so many patternes presented vnto vs, to know by them, what the whole piece is: for all similitude, is a communication betweene two thinges in that quality, wherein there likenesse consisteth: and therefore we can not doubt, but that nature hath giuen vs, by the meanes we haue explicated, an essay of all the thinges in the world, that fall vnder our commerce, whereby to iudge whether they be profitable or nociue vnto vs; and yet in so delicate and subtile a quantity, as may in no wayes be offensiue to vs, whiles we take our measures to attract what is good, and auoyde what is noxious.

THE TWO AND THIRTIETH CHAPTER. Of sensation, or the motion whereby sense is properly exercised.

OVt of the considerations which we haue deliuered in these last Chapters,1 1.297 the Reader may gather the vnreasona∣blenesse of vulgar Phylosophers, who to explicate life and sense, are not content to giue vs termes without explicating them; but will force vs to beleeue contradictions: telling vs, that life consisteth in this, that the same thing hath a power to worke vpon it selfe: and that sensation, is a working of the actiue part of the same sense, vpon its passiue part; and yet will admitt no partes in it: but will haue the same indiuisible power worke vpon it selfe. And this, with such violence and downebearing of all opposition, that they deeme him not considerable in the schooles, who shall offer only to doubt of what they teach him hereabout; but brand him with the censure of one who knoweth not, and contradicteth the very first principles of Phylosophy. And therefore, it is requisite we should looke somewhat more particu∣larly into the manner how sensation is made.

Monsieur des Cartes (who by his great and heroyke attempts, and by shewing mankinde how to steere and husband their reason to best aduantage, hath left vs no excuse for being ignorant of any thing worth the knowing) explicating the nature of sense, is of opinion, that the bodies without vs, in certaine circumstances, do giue a blow vpon our exterior organes: from whence, by the continuity of the partes, that blow or motion is continued, till it come to our braine and seate of knowledge; vpon which it giueth a stroke answerable to that, which the outward sense first receiued: and there this knocke causing a particular effect, according to the particular nature of the motion (which dependeth off the nature of the obiect that produced it) our soule and mind hath notice, by this meanes, of euery thing that knocketh at our gates: and by the great variety of knockes or motions that our braine feeleth (which ariseth from as great a variety of natures in the obiects that cause them) we are enabled, to iudge of the nature and conditions of euery thing we conuerse withall.

As for example: he conceiueth light to be nothing else but a percussion made by the illuminant vpon the ayre, or vpon the ethereall substance, which he putteth to be mixed with, and to runne through all bodies: which being a continuate medium betweene the illuminant and our sense; the percussion vpon that, striketh also our sense; which he calleth the nerue that reacheth from the place strucken (to witt, from the bottome of our eye) vnto the braine. Now, by reason of the continuity of this string or nerue, he conceiueth that the blow which is made vpon

the outward end of it by the Ether, is conueyed by the other end of it to the braine; that end, striking the braine in the same measure as the Ether strucke the other end of it: like the iacke of a virginall, which stricketh the sounding corde, according as the musitians hand presseth vpon the stoppe. The part of the braine which is thus struken, he supposeth to be the fantasie, where he deemeth the soule doth reside; and thereby taketh notice of the motion and obiect that are without. And what is said thus of sight, is to be applyed proportionably to the rest of the senses.

This then is the summe of Monsieur des Cartes his opinion, which he hath very finely expressed, with all the aduantages that opposite examples, significant wordes, and cleare methode can giue vnto a witty discourse. Which yet is but a part of the commendations he deserueth, for what he hath done on this particular. He is, ouer and aboue all this, the first that I haue euer mett with, who hath published any conceptions of this nature, whereby to make the operations of sense intelligible. Certainely, this prayse will euer belong vnto him, that he hath giuen the first hinte of speaking groundedly, and to the purpose vpon this subiect: and whosoeuer shall carry it any further (as what important mystery was euer borne and perfected at once?) must acknowledge to haue deriued his light from him.

2 1.298For my part, I shall so farre agree with him, as to allow motion alone to be sufficient to worke sensation in vs: and not only to allow it sufficient, but also to professe, that not only this, but that no other effect whatsoeuer can be wrought in vs, but motion, and by meanes of motion. Which is euident out of what we haue already deliuered, speaking of bodies in generall; that all action among them, eyther is locall motion, or else followeth it: and no lesse euident, out of what we haue declared in particular, concerning the operations of the outward senses, and the obiects that worke vpon them: and therefore, whosoeuer shall in this matter, require any thing further then a difference of motion, he must first seeke other instruments in obiects to cause it. For, examining from their very origine, the natures of all the bodies we conuerse withall; we can not find any ground to beleeue they haue power or meanes to worke any thing beyond motion.

But I shall craue leaue to differ from him, in determining what is the subiect of this motion, whereby the braine iudgeth of the nature of the thing that causeth it. He will allow no locall change of any thing in a man, further then certaine vibrations of stringes, which he giueth the obiects to play vpon from the very sense vp to the braine: and by their different manners of shaking the braine, he will haue it know, what kind of thing it is, that striketh the outward sense, without remouing any thing within our body from one place to an other. But I shall goe the more common way; and make the spirits to be the porters of all newes to the braine: only adding therevnto that these newes

which they carry thither, are materiall participations of the bodies, that worke vpon the outward organes of the senses; and passing through them, do mingle themselues with the spirits, and so do goe whither they carry them, that is to the braine; vnto which, from all partes of the body, they haue immediate resorte, and a perpetuall communication with it.

So that, to exercise sense (which the latines do call, sentire, but in English we haue no one word common to our seuerall particular notions of diuers perceptions by sense) is, Our braine to receiue an impression from the externe obiect by the operation or mediation of an organicall part made for that purpose, and some one of those which we terme an externe sense; from which impression, vsually floweth some motion proper to the liuing creature. And thus you see that the outward senses, are not truly senses, as if the power of sensation were in them: but in an other meaning, to witt, so farre as they are instruments of quali∣fying or conueying the obiect to the braine.

Now,3 1.299 that the spirits are the instruments of this cōueyance, is euidēt, by what we dayly see, that if a mā be very attētiue to some one externe obiect (as to the hearing or seeing of something that much delighteth or dis∣pleaseth him) he neyther heareth or seeth any thing but what his mind is bent vpō; though all that while, his eyes and eares be open, and seuerall of their obiects be present, which at other times would affect him. For what can be the reason of this, but that the braine employing the greatest part of his store of spirits about that one obiect, which so powerfully enter∣tayneth him, the others find very few free for them to imbue with their tincture? And therefore, they haue not strength enough to giue the braine a sufficient taste of themselues, to make it be obserued; nor to bring themselues into a place where they may be distinctly discerned: but striuing to gett vnto it, they loose themselues in the throng of the others, who for that time do besiege the braine closely. Whereas, in Monsieur des Cartes his way (in which no spirits are required) the apprehension must of necessity be carried precisely according to the force of the motion of the externe obiect.

This argument I confesse, is not so conuincing a one against his opinion, but that the necessity of the consequence may be auoyded; and an other reason be giuen for this effect, in Monsieur des Cartes his doctrine: for he may say, that the affection being vehemently bent vpon some one obiect, may cause the motion to be so violent by the addition of inward percussions, that the other coming from the outward sense, being weaker, may be drowned by it; as lesser soundes are by greater, which do forcibly carry our eares their way, and do fill them so entirely, that the others can not gett in to be heard: or as the drawing of one man that pulleth backewardes, is not felt when a hundred draw forwardes. Yet this is hard to conceiue, considering the great eminency which the present obiect hath ouer an absent one, to make it selfe be felt:

whence it followeth, that the multiplication of motion must be extremely encreased within, to ouertoppe and beare downe the motion, caused by a present obiect actually working without.

But that which indeed conuinceth me to beleeue I goe not wrong in this course, which I haue sett downe for externe bodies working vpon our sense and knowledgde: is first, the conuenience, and agreeablenesse to nature, both in the obiects and in vs, that it should be done in that manner: and next, a difficulty in Monsieur des Cartes his way, which me thinketh, maketh it impossible that his should be true. And then, his being absolutely the best of any I haue hitherto mett withall, and mine supplying what his falleth short in, and being sufficient to performe the effects we see: I shall not thinke I do amisse in beleeuing my owne to be true, till some body else shew a better.

4 1.300Lett vs examine these considerations one after an other. It is manifest by what wee haue already established, that there is a perpetuall fluxe of litle partes or atomes out of all sensible bodies, that are composed of the foure Elements, and are here in the sphere of continuall motion by action and passion: and such it is, that in all probability these litle partes can not choose but gett in at the dores of our bodies, and mingle themselues with the spirits that are in our nerues. Which if they doe, it is vnauoydable, but that of necessity th••y must make some motion in the braine; as by the explication we haue made of our outward senses, is manifest: and the braine being the source and origine of all such motion in the animal, as is termed voluntary; this stroke of the obiect, will haue the power to cause some variation in its motions that are of that nature: and by consequence, must be a sensation, for, that change which being made in the braine by the obiect, is cause of voluntary motion in the animal, is that, which we call sensation.

But we shall haue best satisfaction, by considering how it fareth with euery sense in particular. It is plaine, that our touch or feeling is affected by the litle bodies of heate, or cold, or the like, which are squeesed or euaporated from the obiect; and do gett into our flesh, and cōsequently, do mingle themselues with our spirits: and accordingly, our hand is heated with the floud of subtile fire, which from a great one without, streameth into it: and is benummed with multitudes of litle bodies of cold, that settle in it. All which litle bodies, of heate, or of cold or of what kind soeuer they be, when they are once gott in, must needes mingle themselues with the spirits they meet with in the nerue: and consequently, must goe along with them vp to the braine: for the channell of the nerue being so litle, that the most acurate inspectours of nature can not distinguish any litle cauity or hole running along the substance of it: and the spirits which ebbe and flowe in those channels, being so infinitely subtile, and in so small a quantity, as such chānels can containe: it is euident, that an ato••e of insensible biggenesse, is sufficient to imbue the whole length and quantity of spirit that is in one nerue:

and that atome, by reason of the subtility of the liquor it is immersed in, is presently and as it were instantly, diffused through the whole substance of it: the source therefore of that liquor being in the braine, it can not be doubted, but that the force of the externe obiect, must needes affect the braine according to the quality of the said atome: that is, giue a motion, or knocke, conformable to its owne nature.

As for our taste, it is as plaine, that the litle partes expressed out of the body which affecteth it, do mingle themselues with the liquour that being in the tongue, is continuate to the spirits: and then, by our former argument it is euidēt, they must reach vnto the braine. And for our smel∣ling, there is nothing can hinder odours from hauing immediate passage vp to our braine, when by our nose, they are once gotten into our head.

In our hearing, there is a litle more difficulty: for sound being nothing but a motion of the ayre,5 1.301 which striketh our eare; it may seeme more then needeth, to send any corporeall substance into the braine: and that it is sufficient, that the vibrations of the outward ayre, shaking the drumme of the eare, do giue a like motion to the ayre within the eare, that on the inside toucheth the tympane: and so this ayre, thus moued, shaketh and beateth vpon the braine. But this, I conceiue, will not serue the turne; for if there were no more, but an actuall motion, in the making of hearing; I do not see, how soundes could be conserued in the memory: since of necessity, motion must alwayes reside in some body; which argument, we shall presse anone, against Monsieur des Cartes his opinion for the rest of the senses.

Out of this difficulty, the very inspection of the partes within the eare, seemeth to leade vs: for had there been nothing necessary besides motion, the very striking of the outward ayre against the tympanum, would haue been sufficient without any other particular and extraordi∣nary organization, to haue produced soundes, and to haue carried their motions vp to the braine: as we see the head of a drumme bringeth the motions of the earth vnto our eare, when we lay it therevnto, as we haue formerly deliuered. But Anatomistes, find other tooles and instruments, that seeme fitt to worke and forge bodies withall; which we can not imagine, nature made in vaine. There is a hammer and an anuile: whereof the hammer, stricking vpon the anuile, must of necessity beate off such litle partes of the brainy steames, as flying about do light and sticke vpon the toppe of the anuile: these by the trembling of the ayre following its course, can not misse of being carried vp to that part of the braine, wherevnto the ayre within the eare is driuen by the impulse of the sound: and as soone as they haue giuen their knocke, they rebound backe againe into the celles of the braine, fitted for harbours to such winged messenger: where they remaine lodged in quietnesse, till they be called for againe, to renew the effect which the sound did make at the first: and the various blowes which the hammer striketh, according to the various vibrations of the tympanum

(vnto which the hammer is fastened; and therefore is gouerned by its motiōs) must needes make great differēce of biggenesses, and cause great variety of smartnesses of motion, in the litle bodies which they forge.

The last sense is of seeing; whose action we can not doubt, is performed by the reflexion of light vnto our eye,6 1.302 from the bodies which we see: and this light, cometh impregnated with a tincture drawne from the superficies of the obiect it is reflected from; that is, it bringeth along with it, seuerall of the litle atomes, which of themselues do streame, and it cutteth from the body it strucke vpon and reboundeth from; and they, mingling themselues with the light, do in company of it gett into the eye: whose fabrike, is fitt to gather and vnite those species, as you may see by the anatomy of it: and from the eye, their iourney is but a short one to the braine: in which, we can not suspect that they should loose their force; considering, how others that come from organes further off, do conserue theirs: and likewise considering the nature of the optike spirits, which are conceiued to be the most refined of all that are in mans body.

Now, that light is mingled with such litle atomes issuing out of the bodies from which it is reflected; appeareth euidently enough, out of what wee haue Sayed, of the nature and operations of fire and light: and it seemeth to be confirmed, by what I haue often obserued in some chambers where people seldome come: which hauing their windowes to the south, so as the sunne lyeth vpon them a great part of the day in his greatest strength, and their curtaines being continually drawne ouer them, the glasse becometh dyed very deepe of the same colour the curtaine is of: which can proceed from no other cause, but that the beames which shoote through the glasse, being reflected backe from the courtaine, do take something along with them from the superficies of it; which being of a more solide corpulence then they, is left behind (as it were in the strainer) when they come to presse them∣selues through passages and pores, too litle for it to accompany them in: and so those atomes of colour, do sticke vpon the glasse which they can not penetrate.

An other confirmation of it is, that in certaine positions, the sunne reflecting from strong colours, will cast that very colour vpon some other place; as I haue often experienced in liuely scarlet, and cloth of other smart colours: and this, not in that gloating wise, as it maketh colours of pure light, but like a true reall dye; and so, as the colour will appeare the same to a man, wheresoeuer he standeth.

7 1.303Hauing thus shewed in all our senses, the conueniency and agreeablenesse of our opinion with nature; (which hath been deduced, out of the nature of the obiects, the nature of our spirits, the nature and situation of our nerues, and lastly from the property of our braine:) our next consideration shall be, of the difficulty that occurreth in M^r. des Cartes his opinion. First we know not how to reconcile the repugnācies

appearing in his position of the motion of the Ether; especially in light: for that Ethereall substance being extreme rare, must perforce by eyther extreme liquid, or extreme brittle: if the first; it can not choose but bowe and be pressed into fouldes, and bodies of vnequall motions, swimming euery where in it; and so it is impossible, that it should bring vnto the eye any constant apparition of the first mouer.

But lett vs suppose there were no such generall interruptions, euery where encountring, and disturbing the conueyance of the first simple motion: yet, how can we conceiue that a push, giuen so farre off, in so liquid an element, can continue its force so farre? We see that the greatest thunders and concussions, which at any time happen among vs, can not driue and impart their impulse the ten thousandeth part of the vast distance, which the sunne is remoued from our eye; and can we imagine, that a little touch of that luminous body, sh••uld make an impression vpon vs, by mouing an other so extremely liquid and subtile, as the Ether is supposed; which like an immense Ocean, tossed with all varieties of motion, lyeth betweene it and vs.

But admitt there were no difficulty nor repugnance in the medium, to conuey vnto vs a stroke, made vpon it by the sunnes motion: lett vs at the least examine, what kind of motions we must allow in the sunne, to cause this effect. Certainely, it must needes be a motion towardes vs, or else it can not stricke and driue the medium forward, to make it stri••ke vpon vs. And if it be so, eyther the sunne must perpetually be coming neerer and neerer to vs; or else it must euer and anone be receding backwardes, as well as mouing forwardes. Both which, are too chymeri∣call for so great a witt to conceite.

Now, if the Ether be brittle, it must needes reflect vpon euery rubbe in meeteth with in its way, and must be broken and shiuered by euery body that moueth acrosse it: and therefore, must alwayes make an vncertaine and most disorderly percussion vpon the eye.

Then againe; after it is arriued to the sense, it is no wayes likely it should be conueyed from thence to the braine, or that nature intended such a kind of instrument as a nerue, to continue a precise determinate motion: for if you consider how a lute string, or any other such medium conueyeth a motion made in it; you will find, that to do it well and clearely, it must be stretched throughout to its full extent, w••••h •• kind of stiffenesse: whereas our nerues are not straight, but lye crooked in our body; and are very lither, till vpon occasion spirits coming into them, do swell them out. Besides, they are bound to flesh, and to other partes of the body; which being cessible, must needes dull the stroake, and not permitt it to be carried farre. And lastly, the nerues are subiect to be at euery turne contracted and dilated, vpon their owne account, without any relation to the stroakes beating vpon them from an externe agent: which is by no meanes, a conuenient disposition for a body, th••t is to be the porter of any simple motion; which should alwayes lye watching in

great quietnesse, to obserue scrupulously, and exactly the arrant he is to carry: so that for my part, I can not conceiue, nature intended any such effect, by mediation of the sinnewes.

8 1.304But Monsieur des Cartes endeauoureth to confirme his opinion, by what vseth to fall out in palsies, when a man looseth the strength of mouing his handes, or other members, and neuerthelesse retaineth his feeling: which h•• imputeth to the remaining intire of the stringes of the nerues, whiles the spirits are someway defectiue. To this we may answere, by producing examples of the contrary in some men, who haue had the motion of their limbes intire and no wayes preiudiced, but haue had no feeling at all, quite ouer their whole case of skinne and flesh: as particularly a seruant in the colledge of Physitians in London, whom the learned Haruey (one of his Masters) hath told me, was exceeding strong to labour, and very able to carry any necessary burthen, and to remoue thinges dexterously, according to the occasion: and yet he was so voyde of feeling that he vsed to grind his handes against the walles, and against course lumber, when he was employed to rummage any; in so much, that they would runne with bloud, through grating of the skinne, without his feeling of what occasioned it.

In our way, the reason of both these conditions of people, (the parali∣tike, and the insensible) is easy to be rendered: for they proceed out of the diuers disposition of the animal spirits in these partes: which if they thicken too much, and become very grosse, they are not capable of transmitting the subtile messengers of the outward world, vnto the tribunall of the braine, to judge of them. On the other side, if they be too subtile, they neyther haue, nor giue power to swell the skinne, and so to draw the muscles to their heades. And surely Monsieur des Cartes taketh the wrong way, in the reason he giueth of the palsie: for it proceedeth out of aboundance of humors; which clogging the nerues, rendreth them washy, and maketh them loose their drynesse, and become lither and consequently, vnfitt and vnable, in his opinion, for sensation (which requireth stiffenesse) as well as for motion.

Yet besides all these, one difficulty more remayneth against this doctrine,9 1.305 more insuperable (if I mistake not) then any thing, or all together we haue yet said: which is, how the memory should conserue any thing in it, and represent bodies to vs, when our fansie calleth for them, if nothing but motions do come into the braine. For it is impossible, that in so diuisible a subiect as the spirits, motion should be conserued any long time: as we see euidently in the ayre; through which moue a flaming taper neuer so swiftly, and as soone as you sett it downe, almost in the very instant, the flame of it leaueth being driuen or shaken on one side, and goeth quietly and euenly vp its ordinary course: thereby shewing, that the motion of the ayre, which for the time was violent, is all of a soddaine quieted and at rest: for otherwise, the flame of the taper would blaze that way the ayre were moued. Assuredly, the bodies

that haue power to conserue motion long, must be dry and hard ones. Nor yet can such, conserue it very long, after the cause which made it, ceaseth from its operation. How then can we imagine, that such a multi∣tude of pure motions, as the memory must be stored withall for the vse and seruice of a man, can be kept on foote in his braine, without confusion; and for so long a time as his memory is able to extend vnto? Consi••er a lessen played vpon the lute or virginals; and think with your selfe, what power there is, or can be in nature, to conserue this lesson euer continually playing: and reflect, that if the impressions vpon the common sense are nothing else but such thinges, then they must be actually conserued, alwayes actually mouing in our head▪ to the end they be immediately produced, whensoeuer it pleaseth our will to call for them.

And if peraduenture it should be replyed, that it is not necessary the motions themselues ••hould alwayes be conserued in actuall being; but that it is sufficient, there be certaine causes k••pt on foote in our heades, which are apt to reduce these motions into act, whensoeuer there is occasion of them: all I shall say herevnto is▪ that this is meerely a volun∣tary position, and that there appeareth no ground, for these motions to make and constitute such causes; since we neyther meete with any instruments, nor discouer any signes, whereby we may be induced to beleeue or vnderstand any such operation.

It may be viged, that diuers soundes are by diseases oftentimes made in out eares, and appearances of colours in our fantasie. But first, these colours and soundes, are not artificiall ones, and disposed and ordered by choice and iudgement; for no story hath mentioned, that by a disease any man euer heard twenty verses of Virgil, or an ode of Horace in his eares: or that euer any man s••w f••ire pictures in his fansye, by meanes of a blow giuen him vpon his eye And secondly, such colours and soundes as are obiected, are nothing else, but (in the first case) the motion of humour•• in a mans eye by a blow vpon it; which humours haue the vertue of making light, in such sort as we s••e sea wate•• hath, when it is clash••d together: and (in the second case) a cold vapour in certaine partes of the braine, which causeth beatinges or motion there; whence proceedeth ••he imitation of soundes: so that these examples do nothing aduantage that party, thence to inferre that the similitudes of obiects, may be made in the common sense, without any reall bodies reserued for that end.

Yet I intend not to exclude motion from any commerce with ••he memory▪ no more then I haue done from sensation. For I will not only graunt, that all our remembring is performed by the meanes of motion; but I will also acknowledge, that (in men) it is▪ for the most part, of nothing e••se but of motion. For what are wordes, but motion? And wordes are the chiefest obiects of our remembrance. It is true, we can, if we will, remember thinges in their owne shapes, as well as by th•• wordes

that expresse them; but experience telleth vs, that in our familiar conuer∣sation, and in the ordinary exercise of our memory, we remember and make vse of the wordes, rather then of the thinges themselues.

Besides, the impressions which are made vpon all our other senses, as well as vpon our hearing, are likewise for the most part of thinges in motion: as if we haue occasion to make a conception of a man, or of a horse, we ordinarily conceiue him walking, or speaking, or eating, or vsing some motion in time: and as these impressions are successiuely made vpon the outward organes; so are they successiuely carried into the fantasie, and by like succession, are deliuered ouer into the memory: from whence, when they are called backe againe into the fantasie, they moue likewise successiuely; so that in truth, all our memory will be of motion; or at the least, of bodies in motion: yet it is not chiefly of motion, but of the thinges that are moued; vnlesse it be, when we remember wordes: and how those motions, do frame bodies which moue in the braine, we haue already touched.

THE THREE AND THERTIETH CHAPTER. Of Memory.

BVt how are these thinges conserued in the braine? And how do they reuiue in the fantasie,1 1.306 the same motions by which they came in thither at the first? Monsieur des Cartes hath putt vs in hope of an explication: and were I so happy, as to haue seene that worke of his, which the world of learned men so much longeth for; I assure my selfe, I should herein receiue great helpe and furtherance by it. Although withall, I must professe, I can not vnderstand how it is possible, that any determinate motion should long be preserued vntaynted in the braine; where there must be such a multitude of other motions in the way, to mingle with it, and bring all into confusion. One day I hope this iewell will be exposed to publike view, both to do the Author right, and to instruct the world.

In the meane time, lett vs see what our owne principles afford vs. We haue resolued, that sensation is not a pure driuing of the animal spirits, or of some penetrable body in which they swimme, against that part of the braine, where knowledge resideth: but that it is indeed the driuing thither of solide materiall bodies (exceeding litle ones) that come from the obiects thēselues. Which position, if it be true, it followeth that these bodies must rebound from thence vpon other partes of the braine; where at the length, they find some vacant cell, in which they keepe their rankes and files, in great quiett and order; all such sticking together, and keeping company with one an other, that entered in

together: and there they lye still and are at rest, vntill they be stirred vp, eyther by the naturall appetite, (which is the ordinary course of beastes) or by chance, or by the will of the man in whom they are, vpon the occasions he meeteth with of searching into them. Any of these three causes rayseth them vp, and giueth them the motion that is proper to them; which is the same with that, whereby they came in at the first: for (as Galilaeus teacheth vs) euery body hath a particular motion peculiarly proper to it, when nothing diuerteth it: and then they slide successiuely, through the fantasie in the same manner, as when they presented them∣selues to it the first time. After which, if it require them no more; they returne gently to their quiett habitation in some other part of the braine, from whence they were called and summoned by the fantasies messengers, the spirits: but if it haue longer vse of them, and would view them better then once passing through permitteth; then they are turned backe againe, and lead a new ouer their course, as often as is requisite: like a horse, that a rider paceth sundry times along by him that he sheweth him to; whiles he is attentiue to marke euery part and motion in him.

But lett vs examine a litle more particularly,2 1.307 how the causes we haue assigned, do raise these bodies that rest in the memory, and do bring them to the fantasie. The middlemost of them (namely chance) needeth no looking into, because the principles that gouerne it, are vncertaine ones. But the first, and the last (which are, the appetite, and the will) haue a power (which we will explicate hereafter) of mouing the braine and the nerues depending of it, conueniently and agreably to their dispo∣sition. Out of which it followeth, that the litle similitudes, which are in the caues of the braine wheeling and swimming about (almost in such sort, as you see in the washing of currantes or of rise, by the winding about and circular turning of the cookes hand) diuers sortes of bodies do go their courses for a pretty while; so that the most ordinary obiects, can not choose but present themselues quickely, because there are many of them, and are euery where scattered about: but others that are fewer, are longer ere they come in view: much like as in a paire of beades, that containing more litle ones then great ones, if you plucke to you the string they all hang vpon, you shall meete with many more of one sort, then of the other.

Now, as soone as the braine hath lighted on any of those it seeketh for, it putteth as it were a stoppe vpon the motion of that; or at the least, it moueth it so, that it goeth not farre away, and is reuocable at will: and seemeth like a baite to draw into the fantasie others belonging vnto the same thing, eyther through similitude of nature, or by their connexion in the impression: and by this meanes hindereth other obiects, not pertinent to the worke the fansie hath in hand, from offering themselues vnseasonably in the multitudes that otherwise they would do. But if the fansie should haue mistaken one obiect for an other, by reason of some

resemblance they haue betweene themselues; then it shaketh againe the liquid medium they all floate in, and rooseth euery species lu••king in remotest corners, and runneth ouer the whole beaderoule of them: and continueth this inquisition and motion, till eyther it be satisfyed with retriuing at length what it required, or that it be growne weary with tossing about the multitude of litle inhabitants in its numerous empire, and so giueth ouer the search, vnwillingly and displeasedly.

3 1.308Now, that these thinges be as we haue declared, will appeare out of the following considerations; first, we see that thinges of quite different natures, if they come in together, are remembred together: vpon which principle the whole art of memory dependeth: such thinges, can not any way be comprised vnder certaine heades, nor be linked together by order and consequence, or by any resemblance to one an other: and therefore all their connexion must be, that as they came in together into the fantasie, so they remaine together in the same place in the memory: and their first coupling, must proceed from the action that bound them together, in driuing them in together.

Next, we may obserue, that when a man seeketh and tumbleth in his memory for any thing he would retriue, he hath first some common and confused notion of it: and sometimes he hath a kind of flasking or fadeing likenesse of it; much what, as when in striuing ro remember a name, men vse to say, it is at their tongues end: and this sheweth, that he attracteth those thinges he desireth, and hath vse of, by the likenesse of something belonging to them. In like manner, when hunger maketh one think of meat, or thirst maketh one dreame of drinke, or in other such occasions, wherein the naturall appetite stirreth obiects in the me∣mory and bringeth thē to the fantasie; it is manifest, that the spirits infor∣ming the braine of the defect and paine, which seuerall partes of the body do endure, for want of their due nourishment; it giueth a motion to the hart, which sendeth other spirits vp to supply the braine, for what seruice it will order them: by which, the braine being fortifyed, it followeth the pursuite of what the liuing creature is in want of; vntill the distempered partes be reduced into their due state, by a more solide enioying of it.

4 1.309Now, why obiects that are drawne out of the memory, do vse to appeare in the fantasie, with all the same circumstances which accompanyed them at the time when the sense did send them thither, (as when in the remembrance of a frend, we consider him in some place, and at a certaine time, and doing some determinate action) the reason is, that the same body, being in the same medium, must necessarily haue the same kind of motion; and so consequently, must make the same impression vpon the same subiect. The medium which these bodies moue in (that is, the memory) is a liquid vaporous substance, in which they floate and swimme at liberty.

Now, in such a kind of medium, all the bodies that are of one nature, will easily gather together, if nothing disturbe them: for as when a tuned lute string is strucken, that string by communicating a determinate

species of vibration to the ayre round about it, shaketh other stringes, within the compasse of the moued ayre; not all, of what extent soeuer, but only such, as by their naturall motion, would cause like curlinges, and fouldes in the ayre, as the other doth; according to what Galileus hath at large declared: euen so, when some atome in the braine is moued, all the rest there about, which are apt to be wasted with a like vndulation, must needes be moued in chiefe: and so they mouing, whiles the others of different motions, that hauing nothing to rayse them, do eyther lye quiett or moue very litle in respect of the former; it is no wonder if they assemble together; and (by the proper course of the braine) do meete at the common rendez-vous of the fantasie.

And therefore the more impressions,5 1.310 that are made from the same obiect vpon the sense; the more participations of it, will be gathered together in the memory: and the stronger impressions, it will vpon occasion make in the fantasie: and themselues will be the strōger to resist any cause that shall striue to deface them. For we see that multitude of obiects, ouerwhelmeth the memory; and putteth out, or at the least, maketh vnprofitable, those that are seldomst thought on. The reason of which is, that they being litle in quantity, because there are but few species of them; they can neuer strike the seate of knowledge, but in company of others; which being more and greater, do make the impression follow their nature against the lesser: and in tract of time, thinges seldome thought of, do grow to haue but a maimed and cōfused shape in the memory; and at length are quite forgotten. Which happeneth, because in the liquid medium, they are apt to moulder away, if they be not often repaired: which mouldring and defacing, is helped on by the shockes they receiue from other bodies: like as in a magasin, a thing that were not regarded, but were carelessely rumbled vp and downe, to make roome for others, and all thinges were promiscuously throwne vpon it; it would soone be brused and crushed into a misseshapen forme, and in the end be broken all in pieces.

Now, the repairing of any thing in the memory, is done, by receiuing new impressions from the obiect; or in its absence, by thinking strongly of it: which is an assembling, and due peecing together of the seuerall particles of bodies, appertayning to the same matter. But sometimes it happeneth, that when the right one can not be found intire, nor all the orderly pieces of it, be retriued with their iust correspondance to one an other; the fansie maketh vp a new one in the place of it: which after∣wardes, vpon presence of the obiect, appeareth to haue been mistaken: and yet the memory, till then, keepeth quietly and vnquessionedly for the true obiect, what either, the thought, or chance, mingling seuerall partes, had patched vp together.

And from hence, we may discerne, how, the loosing or confounding of ones memory, may happen eyther by sicknesse, that distemper the spirits in the braine, and disorder their motions; or by some blowes on

the head, whereby a man is astonied, and all thinges seeme to turne round with him. Of all which effects, the causes are easy to be found in these suppositions we haue layed.

THE FOVRE AND THERTIETH CHAPTER: Of voluntary motion: Naturall faculties: and passions.

1 1.311HItherto we haue laboured to conuey the obiect into the braine: but when it is there, lett vs see what further effects it causeth: and how that action, which we call Voluntary motion, doth proceed from the braine. For the discouery whereof, we are to note, that the braine is a substance composed of watry partes mingled with earthy ones: which kind of substances we see are vsually full of stringes: and so in strong hard beere, and in vinegar, and in other liquors of the l••ke nature, we see (if they be exposed to the sunne) little long fl••kes, which make an appearance of wormes or magates floating about. The reason whereof is, that some drye partes of such liquors, are of themselues as it w••re hairy o•• sleasy, that is, haue litle downy partes, such as you see vpon the legges of flies, or vpon caterpillars, or in little lookes of wooll; by which they easily catch and sticke to other little partes of the like nature, that come neere vnto them: and if the liquor be moued, (as it is in the boyling of beere, or making of vinegar by the heate of the sunne) they become long stringes; because the liquor breaketh the ties which are crosse to its motion: but such as lye along the streame, or rather the bubling vp, do maintaine themselues in vnity, and peraduenture grow stronger, by the winding or foulding of the end of one part with an other: and in their tumbling and rouling still in the same course, the downy haires are crushed in, and the body groweth long and round, as happeneth to a lumpe of dough, or waxe, or wooll, rouled a while in one vniforme course. And so, coming to our purpose, we see that the braine, and all that is made of it, is stringy; wittenesse, the membranes, the flesh, the bones, &c. But of all the rest, those which be called fibers, are most stringy: and the nerues seeme to be but an assembly of them: for although the nerues be but a great multitude of stringes lying in a cluster; neuerthelesse, by the consent of Physitians and Anatomistes, they are held to be of the very substance of the braine, dryed to a firmer consistence then it is in the head.

This heape of stringes (as we may call it) is enclosed in an outside made of membranes; whose frame, we neede not here display: only we may note, that it is very apt and fitt to stretch; and after stretching, to returne againe to its owne iust length Next, we are to consider, how the braine is of a nature apt to swell and to sinke againe: euen so much, that Fallopius reporteth, it doth swell according to the encrease of the moone: which

whether it be true or no; there can be no doubt, but that it being of a substance which is full of skinnes and stringes, is capable of being stretched, and of swelling vpon light occasions; and of falling or sinking againe vpon as light: as being easily penetrable by vapours and by liquors, whose nature it is, to swell and to extend that which they enter into. Out of which it followeth, that it must be the nature of the nerues to do the like: and indeed, so much the more, by how much more drie they are then the braine: for we see that (to a certaine measure) drier thinges are more capable of extension by the ingression of wett, then moist thinges are; because these are not capable of receiuing much more wett into them.

These thinges being premised;2 1.312 lett vs imagine that the braine being first swelled, it doth afterwardes contract it selfe; and it must of necessity follow, that seeing the nerues are all open towardes the braine (though their concauities can not be discerned) the spirits and moysture which are in the braine, must needes be pressed into the nerues: which being allready stored with spirits, sufficiently to the proportion of their hard skinnes; this addition will make them swell and grow hard, as a balloone doth, which being competently full of ayre, hath neuerthelesse more ayre pressed into it.

Since therefore, the masters of Anatomy do teach vs, that in euery muscle there is a nerue, which is spread into a number of litle branches along that muscle; it must follow, that if these litle branches be swollen, the flesh likewise of that muscle, must also needes be swollen. Now the muscle hauing both its endes fastened, the one in a greater bone, the other in a lesser; and there being least resistance on that part, where the bone is lesser, and more moueable; the swelling of the muscle can not choose, but draw the litle bone towardes the great one; and by conse∣quence, moue that litle bone: and this is that, which Philosophers vsually call Voluntary motion: for since our knowledge remaineth in the braine, whatsoever is done by knowledge, must be done by the braine; and most of what the braine worketh for the common seruice of the liuing creature, proceedeth also from knowledge; that is, from the motion of the fansy, which we haue expressed.

This matter being thus farre declared,3 1.313 we may now enter vpon the explication of certaine effects; which peraduenture might haue challenged roome, in the precedent Chapter; but indeed, could not well be handled without first supposing this last discourse: and it is, what is meaned by those powers, that are called naturall faculties: the which howsoeuer in their particulars they be manifold in a liuing creature, yet whensoeuer any one of them is resolued, it appeareth to be compounded of some of these fiue; to witt, the attractiue, the retentiue, the secretiue the concoctiue, and the expulsiue faculty.

Of which, the attractiue, the secretiue, and the concoctiue do not seeme to belong vnto the nerues, for although we may conceiue that

the part of the animal doth turne it selfe towardes the thing which it attracteth; neuerthelesse, that very turning seemeth not to be done by vertue of the muscles, and of the nerues, but rather in a naturall way, as the motion of the hart is performed, in such sort as we haue formerly declared: as for example, if the stomacke when it is greedy of meate, draweth it selfe vp towardes the throate, it seemeth rather to be a kind of drynesse and of warping, such as we see in bladders or in leather eyther by fire or by cold, which make them shriuell vp and grow hard; then that it is a true faculty of the liuing creature to seeke after meate.

4 1.314Nor need we extend our discourse any further about these three faculties; seeing that we haue already declared in common, how attraction, drying, and mixture of actiue bodies with passiue ones, is performed; which needeth but applying vnto these particulars, to explicate fully their natures: as for example; if the kidneyes draw the matter of vrine vnto them out of the veines, it may be by any of the following three manners, to witt, eyther by draught, wett, or by steame. For if the serous partes that are in the bloud which runneth in the veines, do touch some drie partes conformable to their nature, tending towardes the kidneyes▪ they will infallibly adhere more to those drie partes, then to the rest of the bloud. Which if they do in so great a quantity, that they reach to other further partes more drie then these, they will leaue the first partes to goe to the second: and thus by litle, and litle, will draw a line of vrine from the bloud, if the bloud do abound with it: and the neerer it cometh to the kidneyes, the stronger still the attraction will be.

The like will happen, if the serosity which is in the bloud, do touch some part wetted with a like serosity, or where such hath lately passed; for as we see that water will runne more easily vpon a wett part of a board or a stone then vpon drie one; so you can not doubt, but that if the serous part, which is mixed with the bloud, do light vpon a current of its owne nature, it will sticke more to that, then to the current of the bloud; and so part from the bloud, to goe that way which the current of its owne nature goeth.

Besides, it can not be doubted, but that from the kidneyes, and from the passages betweene the kidneyes and the veines, in which the bloud is conueyed, there ariseth a steame: whose nature is, to incorporate it selfe with serous matter, out of whose body it hath been extracted. This steame therefore, flying still to the serous bloud which passeth by, must of necessity precipitate (as I may say) the serous partes of that bloud▪ or rather must filter them out of their maine stocke; and so will make them runne in that currēt, from which it selfe doth flow. And thus you see how Attraction and Secretion are made: for the drawing of the serosity without drawing the bloud, is the parting of the vrine from the bloud. And this example, of the kidneyes operation, may be applyed to the attractions of all the other partes.

Now,5 1.315 the concoctiue faculty (which is the last of the three we tooke together) consisteth of two partes: the one is, as it were a drying of the humour, which is to be concocted; the other is, a mingling the substance of the vessell in which the humour is concocted, with the humour it selfe: for as if you boyle diuers kindes of liquors in brasse pannes, the pannes will taynt the liquor with the quality of the brasse; and therefore Physitians forbid the vse of such, in the boyling of seuerall medicines: so much more in a liuing creatures body, there can be no doubt, but that the vessell in which any humour is concocted, doth giue a tincture therevnto. Now concoction consisting in these two, it is euident, what the concoctiue vertue is; to witt, heate, and ••he specificall property of the vessell which by heate is mingled with the humour.

There remaine yet,6 1.316 the retentiue and the expulsiue faculties to be discoursed of. Whereof one kind, is manisfestly belonging to the voluntary motion which we haue declared: namely that retention, and that expulsion, which we ordinarily make of the grosse excrements eyther of meate, or of drinke, or of other humours, eyther from our head, or from our stomacke, or from our lungs; for it is manifestly done, partly by taking in of winde, and partly by compressing of some partes and opening of others: as Galen sheweth in his curious booke de vsu partium.

An other kind of retention and expulsion, in which we haue no sense when it is made, (or if we haue, it is of a thing done in vs without our will, though peraduenture we may voluntarily aduance it) is made by the swelling of fibers in certaine partes, through the confluence of humours to them, (as in our stomacke it happeneth, by the drinke and the iuice of the meate that is in it) which swelling, closeth vp the passages by which the contained substance should goe out (as the moystening of the stringes, and mouth of a purse, almost shutteth it) vntill in some (for example the stomacke, after a meale) the humour being attenuated by little and little, getteth out subtilely; and so leauing lesse weight in the stomacke, the bag which weighth downe lower, then the neather orifice at which the digested meate issueth, riseth a little: and this rising of it, is also furthered by the wrinkling vp and shortning of the vpper part of the stomacke which still returneth into its naturall corrugation, as the masse of liquid meate leaueth soaking it (which it doth by degrees, still as more and more goeth out; and so what remaineth filleth lesse place, and reacheth not so high of the stomacke:) and thus at lēgth, the residue and thicker substance of the meate, after the thinnest is gott out in steame, and the middling part is boyled ouer in liquor, cometh to presse and grauitate wholy vpō the orifice of the stomacke; which being then helped by the figure and lying of the rest of the stomacke, and its stringes and mouth relaxing, by hauing the iuice which swelled them, squeezed out of them; it openeth it selfe, and giueth way vnto that which lay so heauy vpon it, to tumble out. In others (for example, in a woman with childe) the enclosed substāce, (retained first by such a course of nature as

we haue sett downe) breaketh it selfe a passage by force, and openeth the orifice at which it is to goe out by violence, when all circumstances are ripe according to natures institution.

7 1.317But yet there is the expulsion which is made by physicke, that requireth a little declaration. It is of fiue kindes: vomiting, purging by stoole, by vrine, sweating, and saliuation. Euery one of which, seemeth to consist of two partes, namely the disposition of the thing to be purged, and the motion of the nerues or fibers for the expulsion: as for example, when the Physitian giueth a purge, it worketh two thinges; the one is, to make some certaine humour more liquid and purgeable thē the rest; the other is, to make the stomacke or belly, sucke or vent this humour For the first, the property of the purge must be, to precipitate that humour out of the rest of the bloud; or if it be thicke, to dissolue it that it may runne easily. For the second, it ordinarily heateth the stomacke; and by that meanes, it causeth the stomacke to sucke out of the veines, and so to draw from all partes of the body. Besides this, it ordinarily filleth the belly with winde, which occasioneth those gripings men feele when they take physicke; and is cause of the guttes discharging those humours, which otherwise they would retaine.

The like of this happeneth in saliuation; for the humours are by the same meanes brought to the stomacke, and thence sublimed vp to be spitten out: as we see in those, who taking Mercury into their body, eyther in substance or in smoake, or by applicatiō, do vent cold humours from any part; the Mercury rising from all the body vp to the mouth of the patient, as to the helme of a sublimatory: and the like some say of Tobacco.

As for vomiting, it is in a manner wholy the operation of the fibers, prouoked by the feeling of some inconuenient body, which maketh the stomacke wrincle it selfe, and worke and striue to cast out what offendeth it.

Sweating seemeth to be caused, by the heating of some introus body by the stomake; which being of subtile partes, is by heate dispersed from the middle to the circumference; and carrieth with it light humours, which turne into water as they come out into the ayre. And thus you see in generall, and as much as concerneth vs to declare, what the naturall faculties are: and this, according to Galen his owne mind: who affirmeth, that these faculties do follow the complexion, or the temper of the partes of a mans body.

8 1.318Hauing explicated how voluntary motion proceedeth from the braine: our next consideration ought to be, to examine what it is; that such an obiect, as we brought, by meanes of the senses, into the braine from without, doth contribute to make the braine apply it selfe to worke such voluntary motion. To which purpose, we will goe a steppe or two backe, to meete the obiect at its entrance into the sense; and from thence accompany it in all its iourney and motions onwardes. The obiect which

striketh at the senses dore, and getting in, mingleth it selfe with the spirits it findeth there; is eyther cōforme and agreeable to the nature and temper of those spirits, or it is not: that is to say in short, it is eyther pleasing or displeasing to the liuing creature: or it may be of a third kind, which being neyther of these, we may terme indifferent. In which sort soeuer the obiect affect the sense, the spirits carry it immediately to the braine; vnlesse some distemper or strong thought, or other accident hinder them.

Now, if the obiect be of the third kind; that is, be indiffent; as soone as it hath strucken the braine, it reboundeth to the circle of the memory: and there, being speedily ioyned to others of its owne nature, it findeth them annexed to some pleasing or displeasing thing, or it doth not: if not, in beastes it serueth to little vse: and in men, it remayneth there vntill it be called for. But if, eyther in its owne nature, it be pleasing or displeasing, or afterwardes, in the memory it became ioyned to some pleasing or annoying fellowshipp; presently, the hart is sensible of it: for the hart being ioyned to the braine by straight and large nerues, full of strong spirits which ascend from the hart; it is impossible, but that it must haue some communication with those motions, which passe in the braine: vpon which the hart, or rather the spirits about it, is eyther dilated or compressed.

And these motions, may be eyther totally of one kind, or moderated, and allayed by the mixture of its contrary: if of the former sort; one of them we call ioy, the other griefe; which do continue about the hart (and peraduenture do oppresse it if they be in the vtmost extremity) without sending any due proportion of spirits to the braine vntill they settle a little, and grow more moderate.

Now, when these motions are moderate; they immediately send vp some aboundance of spirits to the braine: which if they be in a conuenient proportion, they are by the braine thrust into such nerues as are fitt to receiue them: and swelling them, they giue motion to the muscles and tendons that are fastened to them: and they do moue the whole body, or what part of it is vnder command of those nerues, that are thus filled and swelled with spirits by the braine.

If the obiect was conformable to the liuing creature, then the braine sendeth spirits into such nerues, as ca••••y the body to it: but if otherwise, it causeth a motiō of auersion or flight from it. To the cause of this latter, we giue the name of Feare: and the other, that carrieth one to the pursuite of the obiect, we call Hope. Anger, or Audaci••y, is mixed of both these; for it seeketh to auoyde an euill by embracing and ouercoming it: and proceedeth out of aboundance of spirits.

Now, if the proportion of spirits sent from the hart, be too great for the braine, it hindereth or peruerteth the due operation both in man and beast.

All which it will not be amisse to open a litle more particularly: and

first;9 1.319 why painefull or displeasing obiects, do contract the spirits, and gratefull ones, do contrary wise, dilate them? It is, because the good of the hart consisteth in life, that is in heate and moysture: and it is the nature of heate, to dilate it selfe in moysture; whereas cold and drie thinges, do contract the bodies they worke vpon: and such are enemyes to the nature of men and beasts: and accordingly experience, as well as reason, teacheth vs, that all obiects, which be naturally good, are such as be hoat and moyst in the due proportion to the creature that is affected and pleased with them.

Now, the liuing creature being composed of the same principles as the world round about him is; and the hart being an abridgement of the whole sensible creature; and being moreouer full of bloud, and that very hoat; it cometh to passe, that if any of these little extracts of the outward world, do arriue to the hoat bloud about the hart, it worketh in this bloud such like an effect, as we see a droppe of water falling into a glasse of wine; which is presently dispersed into a competent compasse of the wine: so that any little obiect, must needes make a notable motion in the bloud about the hart.

This motion, according to the nature of the obiect, will be eyther conformable or contrary; vnlesse it be so little a one, as no effect will follow of it; and then, it is of that kind, which aboue we called indifferent. If the ensuing effect, be connaturall to the hart, there riseth a motion of a certaine fume about the hart; which motion we call pleasure; and it neuer fayleth of accompanying all those motions which are good, as Ioy, Loue, Hope and the like: but if the motion be displeasing; there is likewise a common sense of a heauynesse about the hart▪ which we call griefe: and it is common to sorrow, feare, hate, and the like.

Now it is manifest by experience, that th••se motions are all of them different ones, and do strike against diuers of those partes of our body which encompasse the hart: out of which striking followeth that the spirits sent from the hart, do affect the braine diuersly; and are by it, conueyed into diuers nerues, and so do sett diuers members in action. Whence followeth, that certaine members are generally moued vpon the motion of such a passion in the hart, especially in beaste, ••ho haue a more determinate course of working, then man hath: and if ••ometimes we see variety, euen in beasts, vpon knowledge of the circumstances, we may easily guesse at the causes of that variety: the particularities of all which motions, we remitt to Physitians and to Anatomistes: aduertising only, that the fume of pleasure, and the heauinesse of griefe, do plainely shew, that the first motions do participate of dilatation▪ and the latter of compression.10 1.320

Thus you see, how by the senses, a liuing creature becometh iudge of what is good, and of what is bad for him: which operation, is performed more perfectly in beasts; and especially in those, who liue in the free ayre,

remote from humane conuersation, (for their senses are fresh and vntaynted, as nature made them) then in men. Yet without doubt nature hath beene as fauourable in this particular to men, as vnto them; were it not, that with disorder and excesse, we corrupt and oppresse our senses: as appeareth euidently by the story we haue recorded of Iohn of Liege: as also by the ordinary practise of some Hermites in the diserts, who by their tast or smell, would presently be informed whether the herbes, and rootes, and fruits th••y mett withall, were good or hurtfull for them, though they neuer before had had triall of them.

Of which excellency of the senses, there remaineth in vs only some dimme sparkes, in those qualities which we call sympathies and antipathies: whereof the reasons are plaine, out of our late discourse: and are nothing el••e, but a conformity or opposition of a liuing creature, by some indiuiduall property of it, vnto some body without it: in such sort, as its conformity or opposition vnto thinges by its specificall qualities, is termed naturall or against nature. But of this we shall discourse more at large hereafter.

Thus it appeareth, how the senses are seated in vs, principally for the end of mouing vs to, or from obiects, that are good for vs, or hurtfull to vs. But though our Reader be content to allow this intent of nature, in our three inferiour senses; yet he may peraduenture not be satisfyed, how the two more noble ones (the hearing and the seeing) do cause such motions to, or from obiects, as are requisite to be in liuing creatures for the preseruation of them: for (may he say) how can a man, by only seeing an obiect, or by hearing the sound of it, tell what qualities it is embued withall? Or what motion of liking or disliking, can be caused in his hart, by his meere receiuing the visible species of an obiect at his eyes, or by his eares hearing some noyse it maketh? And if there be no such motion there, what should occasion him, to prosecute or auoyd that obiect? When he tasteth, or smelleth, or toucheth a thing, he findeth it sweet, or bitter, or stincking, or hoat, or cold; and is therewith eyther pleased or displeased: but when he only seeth or heareth it, what liking or disliking can he haue of it, in order to the preseruation of his nature?

The solution of this difficulty, may in part appeare out of what we haue already said. But for the most part, the obiects of th••se two nobler senses, d••••moue vs, by being ioyned in the memory with some other thing that did eyther please or displease some of the other three senses. And from thence it is, that the motion of going to embrace the obiect, or ••uersion from it, doth immediately proceed: as when a dogg seeth a man that vseth to giue him meate, the species of the man coming into his fansie, calleth out of his memory the others which are of the same nature, and are former participations of that man, as well as this f••esh one is: but these are ioyned with specieses of meate; because at other times, they did vse to come in together: and therefore the meate being a good vnto him, and causing him (in the manner we haue said) to moue

towardes it; it will follow that the dogg will presently moue towardes that man, and expresse a contentednesse in being with him. And this is the ground of all assuefaction in beasts, and of making them capable of receiuing any instructions.

THE FIVE AND THERTIETH CHAPTER. Of the materiall instruments of Knowledge and Passion; of the seuerall effects of Passions; of Paine and Pleasure; and how the vitall spirits are sent from the braine into the intended partes of the body, without mistaking their way.

1 1.321TO conclude this great businesse, which concerneth all the mutations and motions, that are made by outward Agents in a liuing creature, it will not be amisse, to take a short and generall suruay of the materiall instruments, which concurre to this effect. Whereof the braine being the principall, or at least, the first and next of the principalles; we may take notice that it containeth, towardes the middle of its substance, foure concauities, as some do count them: but in truth, these foure, are but one great concauity, in which, foure, as it were, diuers roomes, may be distinguished. The neather part of these concauities, is very vnequall, hauing ioyned vnto it, a kind of nett, wrought by the entangling of certaine litle arteries, and of small emanations from a Sinus, which are interwouen together. Besides this, it is full of kernels, which do make it yet more vneuen.

Now, two roomes of this great concauity, are diuided by a litle body, somewhat like a skinne, (though more fryable) which of it selfe is cleere; but there it is somewhat dimmed, by reason that hanging a litle slacke, it somewhat shriueleth together: and this, Anatomistes do call Septum Lucidum, or speculum; and is a different body from all the rest that are in the braine. This transparēt body, hangeth as it were straightwardes, from the forehead towards the hinder part of the head: and diuideth the hollow of the braine, as farre as it reacheth, into the right and the left ventricles.

This part seemeth to me, (after weighing all circumstances, and considering all the conueniencies, and fittenesses) to be that, and only that, in which the fansie or common sense resideth: though Monsieur des Cartes hath rather chosen a kernell to place it in. The reasons of my assertions are; first, that it is in the middle of the braine, which is the most conuenient situation to receiue the messages from all our body, that do come by nerues, some from before, and some from behind. Secondly, that with its two sides, it seemeth to be conueniently opposed to all such of our senses, as are double; the one of them sending its litle messengers or atomes, to giue it aduertissements on one side, the other on the other

side; so that it is capable of receiuing impression indifferently from both. Againe, by the nature of the body, it seemeth more fitt to receiue all differences of motion, then any other body neere it. It is also most cōformable to the nature of the eye; which being our principall outward sense, must needes be in the next degree to that, which is eleuated a straine aboue our outward senses. Fiftly, it is of a single and peculiar nature▪ whereas the kernels are many, and all of them of the same condition, quality, and appearance. Sixtly, it is seated in the very hollow of the braine; which of necessity must be the place and receptacle where the specieses and similitudes of thinges do reside; and where they are moued and tumbled vp and downe, when we thinke of many thinges. And lastly, the situation we putt our head in, when we thinke earnestly of any thing, fauoureth this opinion: for then we hang our head forwards, as it were forcing the specieses to settle towardes our forehead, that from thence they may rebound, and worke vpon this diaphanous substance.

This then supposed,2 1.322 lett vs consider, that the atomes or likenesses of bodies, hauing giuen their touch vpon this Septum or Speculum, do thence retire backe into the concauities, and do sticke (as by chance it happeneth) in some of the inequalities they encounter with there. But if some wind or forcible steame, should breake into these caues, and as it were brush and sweepe them ouer; it must follow, that these litle bodies will loosen themselues, and beginne to play in the vapour which filleth this hollow place: and so floting vp and downe, come a new to strike and worke vpon the Speculum or fantasy: which being also a soluble body, many times these atomes striking vpon it, do carry some litle corporeall substance from it sticking vpon them: whence ensueth, that they returning againe with those tinctures or participations of the very substance of the fantasy; do make vs remember, not only the obiects themselues, but also that we haue thought of them before.

Further we are to know,3 1.323 that all the nerues of the braine, haue their beginnings not farre of from this speculum: of which we shall take a more particular consideration of two, that are called the sixt paire or couple: which paire hath this singularity, that it beginneth in a great many litle branches, that presently grow together, and make two great ones contained within one skinne. Now this being the property of a sense (which requireth to haue many fibers in it, to the end that it may be easily and vigorously strucken, by many partes of the obiect lighting vpon many partes of those little fibers) it giueth vs to vnderstand, that this sixt couple hath a particular nature, conformable to the nature of an externe sense; and that the Architect who placed it there, intended by the seuerall conduites of it, to giue notice vnto some part they goe vnto, of what passeth in the braine: and accordingly one branch of this nerue, reacheth to the hart; not only to the Pericardium, as Galen thought, but euen to the very substance of the hart it selfe, as later Anatomistes haue discouered: by which we plainely see how the motion

which the senses do make in the Speculum, may be deriued downe to the hart.

4 1.324Now therefore lett vs consider, what effects the motions so conueyed from the braine, will worke in the hart. First remembring how all that moueth the hart, is eyther paine or pleasure (though we do not vse to call it paine, but griefe, when the euill of sense moueth vs only by memory, and not by being actually in the sense) and then calling to mind, how paine (as Naturalistes teach vs) consisteth in some diuision of a nerue, (which they call Solutio continui: and must be in a nerue; for that no solution can be the cause of paine, without sense, nor sense be without nerues; and therefore this solution must needes be in nerues, to haue it proue painefull,) we may conclude, that the effect which we call paine, is nothing else but a compression: for although this solution of continuity may seeme to be a dilatation; yet in truth, it is a compression, in the part where the euill is, which happeneth vnto it in the same manner as we shewed (when we spoke of the motion of restitution) it doth to stiffe bodies, that by violence are compressed and drawne into a lesse capa∣cious figure, then their nature affecteth, and returne into their owne state as soone as the mastering violence leaueth them at liberty.

Pleasure therefore, must be contrary to this, and consist in a moderate dilatation; for an immoderate one, would cause a compression in some adherent partes; and there would become paine. And conformable to this, we experience, that generally they are hard thinges which breed paine vnto vs; and that these which breed pleasure, are oyly and soft; as meates, and odours, which are sweete to the taste and smell; and soft substances, which are gratefull to the touch: the excesse of all which proueth offensiue and painefull; so that from the extremity of pleasure, one entereth presently vpon the confines of paine.

Now then lett vs consider, how the little similitudes of bodies, which from without do come into the fantasy, must of necessity worke there, according to their little power, effects proportionable to what they wrought first in the outward senses, from whence, they were conueyed to the braine: for the senses (that is the nerues) and the Septum Lucidum, hauing both of them their origine from the very substance of the braine, and differing only in degrees of purity and refinement, the same obiect must needes workelike effects in both, compressing or dilating them proportionably to one an other: which compression or dilatation, is not paine or pleasure, as it is in the outward sense; but as it is reported to the hart: and that, being the seate of all paines or pleasures wrought in other partes, and that (as it were) dyeth them into those qualities, is not capable of feeling eyther it selfe: so that the stroakes of any little simili∣tudes vpon the fantasy, do make only compressions or dilatations there, not paines or pleasures.

5 1.325Now their bodies or similitudes, if they be reuerberated from the fantasy or septum Lucidum, vpon the little rootes of the nerues of the sixt couple, which goe to the hart, they must needes worke there a

proportionable impression to what they wrought vpon the fansy, eyther compressing or dilating it; and the hart being extremely passiue, by reason of its exceeding tendernesse and heate; can not choose but change its motion, at the least in part, if not in whole: and this with relation to two causes; the one the disposition of the hart it selfe; the other, the vehe∣mency of the stroake.

This change of motion and different beating of the hart, is that which properly is called passion: and is euer accompanyed with pleasure or with griefe, according to the nature of the impression, that eyther contracteth or dilateth the hart and the spirirs about it: and is discouered by the beating of the arteries and of the pulse. Conformable wherevnto, Physitians do tell vs, that euery passion hath a distinct pulse.

These pulses are diuided in common,6 1.326 by aboundance, or by want of spirits: yet in both kinds, they may haue common differencies; for in aboundance, the pulse may be quicke or slow, regular or irregular, equall or vnequall: and the like may happen in defect of spirits; according to the motions of the hart, which are their causes. Againe, the obiect by being present or absent, neerer or further off, maketh the stroake greater or lesser: and accordingly, varyeth the motion of the hart.

Lett vs then call to mind, how we haue formerly declared, that life consisteth in heate and humidity; and that these two ioyned together, do make a thing great: and we may conclude, that of necessity the motion which is most liuely, must haue a great, full, and large stroake; like the euē rolling waues of a wyde and smooth sea; and not too quicke or smart, like the breaches of a narrow Fretum, agitated by tempestuous windes. From this, other motions may vary eyther by excesse, or by deficiency: the first maketh the stroake become smart, violent, and thicke: the other slackeneth it, and maketh it grow little, slow, weake, and thinne, or seldome.

And if we looke into the motions of our hart, we shall see these three differencies of them, follow three seuerall chiefe passions. The first, followeth the passion of ioy: the second, the passion of anger: and the third the passion of griefe. Nor neede we looke any further into the causes of these seuerall motions; for we see that ioy and griefe, following the stroake of sense, the one of them must consist in an oyly dilatation: that is, the spirits about the hart, must be dilated by a gentle, large, great, and sweete motion, in a moderation between velocity and slownesse: the other contrarywise, following the stroake of sense in paine, as the first did in pleasure, must contract the spirits; and consequently make their motion or stroake become little, and deficient from all the properties we haue aboue sett downe.

As for anger, the motion following that passion, is, when the aboundance of spirits in the hart is a little checked by the contrary stroake of sense, but presently ouercometh that opposition: and then, as we see a hindered water, or a man, that suddainely or forcibly breake

through what withstood their motion, go on with a greater violence then they did, and as it were precipitately: so the hart, hauing ouercome the contraction, which the sense made in it, dilateth it selfe with a fury, and maketh its motion smart and vehement. Whence also it followeth, that the spirits grow hoater then they were: and accordingly, it is often seene, that in the scoulding of a woman, and in the irritation of a dogg, if euer now and then, one thwart them, and interpose a little opposition, their fury will be so sharpened and heightened, that the woman will be transported beyond all limits of reason, and the dogg will be made madde with nothing else done to him, but angring him at conuenient times: and some men likewise, haue by sleight oppositions, iterated speedily vpon them, before their spirits could relent their vehement motion (and therefore, must still encrease it) beene angred into feauers.

This passion of anger, seemeth almost to be solitary on the side of excesse beyond ioy: which is, as it were the standard and perfection of all passions▪ as light or whitenesse, is of all colours: but on the otherside, of deficiency, there are seuerall middle passions, which participate more or lesse of ioy and griefe: as particularly those two famous ones, which gouerne mans life, Hope and Feare. Concerning which, Physitians tell vs, that the pulse or beating of feare, is quicke, hard, and vnequall: vnto which I conceiue we may safely adde, that it must also be small and feeble▪ the perfection of ioy, decreasing in it on one side, to witt, from greatnesse and largenesse; but not intirely; so that a kind of quicknesse supplyeth in part the other defect. Hope on the other side, is in such sort defectiue from ioy, that neuerthelesse it hath a kind of constancy, and moderate quantity, and regularity in its motion: and therefore is accounted to be the least hurtfull of all the passions, and that which most prolongeth mans life. And thus you see how those motions, which we call passions, are engendred in the hart, and what they are.

Lett vs then in the next place consider, what will follow in the rest of the body, out of these varieties of passions,7 1.327 once raysed in the hart and sent into the braine. It is euidēt, that according to the nature and quality of these motions, the hart must needes in euery one of them, voyde out of it selfe into the arteries, a greater or lesser quantity of bloud, and that in diuers fashions: and the arteries which lye fittest to receiue these suddaine egestions of bloud, are those which goe into the braine: whose course being directly vpwardes, we can not doubt, but that it is the hoatest and subtilest part of the bloud, and the fullest of spirits, that flyeth that way. These spirits then running a lōg and perplexed iourney vp and downe in the braine, by various meanders and anfractuosities, are there mingled with the humide steame of the braine it selfe, and are therewith cooled; and do come at the last, to smoake at liberty in the hollow ventricles of the braine, by reeking out of the little arteriall branches, that do weaue the plexus choroides, or nette we spoke of ere

while: and they being now growne heauy, do fall (by their naturall course) into that part or processe of the braine, which is called medulla spinalis, or the marrow of the backe bone: which being all besett by the nerues that runne through the body, it can not happen otherwise, but that these thickened and descending spirits, must eyther fall themselues into those nerues, or else presse into them other spirits which are before them, that without such new force to driue them violently forwardes, would haue slided downe more leisurely. Now, this motion being downewardes, and meeting with no obstacle till it arriue vnto its vtmost periode that way, the lowest nerues are those, which naturally do feele the communication of these spirits first.

But it is true, if the flowing tide of them be great and plentifull, all the other nerues will also be so suddainely filled, vpon the filling of the lowermost, that the succession of their swellings, will hardly be percep∣tible: as a suddaine and violent inundation of water, seemeth to rise on the sides of the channell, as it doth at the milldamme; though reason assureth vs it must beginne there, because there it is first stopped.

On the contrary side, if the spirits be few, they may be in such a propor∣tion, as to fill only the lower nerues, and to cōmunicate little of thēselues to any of the others. And this is the case in the passion of feare: which being stored with fewer spirits, thē any other passiō that causeth a motiō in the body, it moueth the legges most; and so carryeth the animal that is affrayd, with violence from the obiect that affrighteth him. Although in truth, it is a faint hope of escaping, mingled with feare, which begetteth this motion: for when feare is single, and at its height, it stoppeth all motion by contracting the spirits, and thence is called stupor; as well as griefe, for the same reason: and accordingly we see extreme cowardes in the extremity of their feare, haue not the courage to runne away, no more then to defend or helpe themselues by any other motions.

But if there be more aboundance of spirits; then the vpper partes are also moued, as well as the legges; whose motion contributeth to defense: but the braine it selfe, and the senses which are in the head, being the first in the course of this flood of spirits, that is sent from the hart to the head; it is impossible, but that some part of them, should be pressed into the nerues of those senses, and so will make the animal vigilant and attentiue to the cause of its feare or griefe.

But if the feare be so great, that it contracteth all the spirits, and quite hindereth their motion, (as in the case we touched aboue) then it leaueth also the nerues of the senses destitute of spirits; and so by too strong apprehension of a danger, the animall neyther seeth nor apprehendeth it: but as easily precipitateth it selfe into it, as it happeneth to auoyde it; being meerely gouerned by chance; and may peraduenture seeme valiant, through extremity of feare.

And thus you see in common, how all the naturall operations of the body, do follow by naturall consequence out of the passions of the

mind: without needing to attribute discourse or reason, eyther to men or beastes to performe them. Although at the first sight, some of them may appeare vnto those that looke not into their principles and true causes, to flow from a source of intelligence: whereas it is euident by what wee haue layed open, they all proceed from the due ranging and ordering of quantitatiue partes, so or so proportioned by rarity and density. And there is no doubt, but who would follow this search deepely, might certainly retriue the reasons of all those externall motions, which wee see vse to accompany the seuerall passions in men and Beastes. But for our intent wee haue said enough, to shew by what kind or order and course of nature, they may be effected (without confining our selues ouer scrupulously to euery circumstance that we haue touched) and to giue a hinte, whereby others that will make this inquiry their taske, may compile an intire, and well grounded and intelligible doctrine of this matter.

Only we will adde one aduertissement more; which is, that these externall motions caused by passion, are of two kindes: for some of them are as it were the beginnings of the actions, which nature intendeth to haue follow out of the passions that cause them: but others are only bare signes of the passions that produce them, and are made by the cōnexion of partes vnnecessary for the maine action that is to follow out of the passion, with other partes that by the passion are necessarily moued: as for example, when an hungry mans mouth watereth at the sight of good meate; it is a kind of beginning of eating, or of preparation for eating for when we eate, nature draweth a moysture into our mouth, to humectate our meate, and to conuey the tast of it into the nerues of the tongue, which are to make report of it vnto the braine: but when we laugh, the motion of our face aymeth at no further end, and followeth only by the connexion of those muscles, which draw the face in such a sort, vnto some inward partes, that are moued by the passion, out of which laughing proceedeth.

8 1.328But we must not leaue this subiect without some mention of the diaphragma: into which the other branch of those nerues, that are called of the sixth coniugation, doth come: for the first branch we haue said goeth into the hart, and carryeth thither the obiects that come into the braine: and this, we shall find, carryeth backe to the braine the passion or motion, which by the obiect is raysed in the hart. Concerning this part of our body, you are to note, that it is a muscolous membrane, which in the middle of it hath a sinnewy circle; wherevnto is fastened the case of the hart, called the Pericardium. This Diaphragma is very sensible, receiuing its vertue of feeling from the aboue mentioned branch of the sixt couple of nerues: and being of a trembling nature, is by our respi∣ration kept in continuall motion: and flappeth vpon all occasions, as a drumme head would do, if it were slacke and moyst; or as a sayle would do, that were brought into the wind.

Out of this description of it, it is obuious to conceiue, that all the changes of motion in the hart, must needes be expressed in the Diaphragma. For the hart beating vpon the Pericardium, and the Pericardium being ioyned to the Diaphragma; such iogges and vibrations must needes be imprinted and ecchoed there, as are formed in the hart: which from thence, can not choose but be carryed to the braine by the sixt couple of nerues. And thus it cometh about, that we feele and haue sensation of all the passions, that are moued in our hart. Which peraduenture is the reason, why the Greekes do call this part 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉; and from it deriue the verbe 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, that in latine signifyeth Sapere, with vs, to sauour or to like: for by this part of our body, we haue a liking of any obiect, or a motion of inclination towardes it: from whence 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 is deriued, by composition of 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, with 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉: for a prudent man is he, that liketh, and is moued to compasse wholesome and good thinges. Which Etymology of the word, seemeth vnto me more naturall, then from the phrenesy, from whence some deriue it; because a great distemper or inflammation in the Diaphragma, often causeth that disease.

Now,9 1.329 because the obiect is cōueyed frō the braine to the hart some part of its way, by the same passage, as the motion of the hart is reconueyed backe to the braine▪ it must of necessity follow, that who is more attētiue to outward sense, doth lesse consider or reflect vpō his passion; and who is more attentiue to obserue, and be gouuerned by what passeth in his hart, is lesse wrought vpon by externall thinges. For if his fantasy draweth strongly vnto it, the emanations from outward agents vpon the senses, the streame of those emanations will descend so strongly from the ouerfilled fantasy into the hart, that it will hinder the ascent of any fewer and weaker spirits by the same pipe. But if the current do sett strongest vpwardes, from the hart by the Diaphragma to the braine, then it will so fill the pipe by which it ascendeth, that little of a weaker tyde, can make a contrary eddy water in the same channell.

And by this meanes, nature effecteth a second pleasure or paine in a liuing creature, which moueth it (oftentimes very powerfully) in absence of the primary obiect: as we may obserue, when thinking of any pleasing or displeasing action, we find about our hart a motion which enticeth vs to it, or auerteth vs from it: for as the first pleasure was occasioned by the stroake, which the obiect applyed to the outward sense, made vpon the fantasy, (which can iudge of nothing without being strucken by it) so the second pleasure springeth from the spirits moued in the hart, by messengers from the braine, which by the Diaphragma do rebound a stroake backe againe vpon the fantasy. And from hence it proceedeth, that memory delighteth or afflicteth vs; and that we think of past thinges with sweetenesse or with remorse: and thereby assuefaction is wrought in beastes, as farre as the appetitiue part doth contribute therevnto, to perfect what was begunne in their cognoscitiue part, by the ingression of corporeall speciefes into their

fantasy, in order to the same effect, as we haue touched before.

10 1.330But now lett vs examine, how so small a quantity of a body, as cometh from an obiect into our sense, can be the cause of so great a motion about our hart. To which purpose we are to remember, that this motion is performed in the most subtile and thinne substance, that can be imagined: they are the vitall spirits, that do all this worke; which are so subtile, so agile, and so hoat, that they may in some sort be termed fire. Now if we reflect how violent fire is, we neede not wonder at the suddaine and great motion of these passions.

But we must further take notice, that they are not in the greatest excesse, but where the liuing creature hath beene long inured and exercised vnto them, eyther directly or indirectly: so that they arriue not to that pitch so much out of the power of the agent, as out of the prepa∣ration and disposition of the patient; as when cold water hath beene often heated by extinguishing red hoat irons in it, after some repetitions a few quenchinges will reduce it from cold to boyling, that at the first would scarce haue made it lukewarme: and accordingly we see a hart, that for a long time hath loued, and vehemently hath desired enioying, is transported in a high degree, at the least sight and renuance of stroakes from its beloued obiect; and is as much deiected, vpon any the least depriuation of it: for to such an obiect, the liuing creature is hurried away by a force much resembling the grauity or celerity of a dense body, that is sett on running downe a steepe hill; vnto which, the only taking away of a weake lett or the least stoppe, giueth a precipitate course; not out of the force of what is done to it, but out of the force which was formerly in the thing, though for the present it lay there vndiscouered: and so likewise in these cases, the obiect rather giueth the occasion of the violent motion, then the force or power to it.

11 1.331These thinges being thus determined, some peraduenture may aske, how it cometh to passe, that the spirits which cause motion, being sent on their arrant by the braine, do alwayes hitt the right way, and light duely into those very sinnewes, which moue the liuing creature according as is requisite for its nature? Since all the passages are open, what is it that gouerneth them, so as they neuer mistake, and the animal is neuer driuen towardes harme, insteed of flying from it? Who is their guide in these obscure pathes? But it were to impute ignorance to the maker, to think that he framed all the passages alike, and so euery one of them, promis∣cuously apt to receiue into them, all sorts of spirits howsoeuer they be moued: and therefore, we may assure our selues, that since in these diuer∣sities of occasions, there are likewise diuers kinds of motions from the hart•• eyther there is proportionable vnto them, diuers kindes of passages fitt to receiue and entertaine the spirits, according to the condition they are in, so as the passages which are aiusted to one kind of spirits, will not admitt any of an other nature: or else, the first motions of liking or disliking in the hart, which (as we haue said) do cause a swelling or a

contraction of it against this or that part; doth stoppe and hinder the the entrance of the spirits into some sinewes, and doth open others, and driueth the spirits into them: so as in the end, by a result of a chaine of swellinges and contractions of seuerall partes successiuely one against an other, the due motions of prosecution or auersion are brought about.

As for example; an obiect that affecteth the hart with liking, by dilating the spirits about the hart, sendeth some into the opt••ke nerues, and maketh the liuing creature turne his eye towardes it and keepe, it steady vpon what he desireth as contrariwise, if he dislike and feare it, he naturally turneth his eye and head from it. Now, of this motion of the eye and head, may depend the running to the thing in one case, and the running from it in the other: for the turning of the necke one way, may open a passage for the spirits into those sinewes, which carry the rest of the body towardes the obiect: and the turning of it to the other side, may open other sinewes, which shall worke a contrary effect, and carry the animal from the obiect: and the mouing of those sinewes, which at the first do turne the necke, doth proceed from the quality and number of the spirits that ascend from the hart, and from the region of the hart from whence they are sent: according to the variety whereof, there are diuers sinewes fitted to receiue them.

To make vp which discourse, we may call to mind, what we haue said a litle aboue, concerning the motions caused in the externall partes of the body, by passion mouing within: as when feare mingled with hope, giueth a motion to the legges, anger to the armes and handes, and all the rest of the body, as well as to the legges; and all of them, an attention in the outward senses; which neuerthelesse peruerteth euery one of their functions, if the passion be in extremity. And then surely, we may satisfy our selues, that eyther this, or some way like it (which I leaue vnto the curious in Anatomy to settle with exactenesse; for it is enough for my intent, to shew in grosse how these operations may be done, without calling in some incomprehensible qualities to our ayde) is the course of nature in motions, where no other cause interueneth, besides the obiect working vpon the sense: which all the while it doth, it is the office of the eye of fantasy or of common sense, to lye euer open; still watching to obserue what warninges the outward senses do send vnto him; that accordingly he may direct and change, the motions of the hart and of the whole body.

But if the obiect do make violent impressions vpon the sense;12 1.332 and the hart, being then vehemently moued, do there vpon send aboūdance of spirits vp to the braine; this multitude of spirits thronging vpon the common sense, oppresseth it (as we haue already said) in such sort, that the notice which the sense giueth of particular circumstances, can not preuayle to any effect in the braine: and thus by the misguidance of the hart, the worke of nature is disordered: which when it happeneth, we

expresse in short, by saying that passion blindeth the creature, in whom such violent and disorderly motions haue course; for passion is nothing else, but a motion of the bloud and spirits about the hart; and is the preparation or beginning of the animals working; as we haue aboue particularly displayed.

And thus you see in common, how the circuite is made from the obiect to the sense, and from it by the common sense and fantasy, to the hart; and from the hart backe againe to the braine; which then setteth on worke those organes or partes the animal is to make vse of in that occasion: and they eyther bring him to, or carry him from the obiect, that at the first caused all this motion, and in the end becometh the periode of it.

THE SIX AND THERTIETH CHAPTER. Of some actions of beastes, that seeme to be formall actes of reason, as doubting, resoluing, inuenting.

1 1.333IN the last Chapter the foundations are layed, and the way is opened, for the discouering how all operations which proceed from nature and passion, are performed among liuing creatures: and therefore, I conceiue I haue thereby sufficiently complyed with the obligation of my intention: which is but to expresse and shew in common, how all the actions of sensible bodies may be reduced to locall motion, and to materiall application of one boy vnto an other, in a like manner (though in a different degree) as those motions which we see in liueliest bodies. Yet because among such animals as passe for irrationall, there happen some operations of so admirable a straine, as resemble very much the highest effects which proceed from a man: I thinke it not amisse, to giue some further light, by extending my discourse to some more particulars then hitherto I haue done; whereby the course and way how they are performed, may be more clearely and easily looked into: and the rather, because I haue mette with some men, who eyther wanting patience to bestow on thoughts of this kind so much time as is necessary for the due scanning of them; or else through a promptitude of nature, passing swiftly from the effect they looke vpon in grosse, to the most obuious seeming cause; do suddainely and strongly resolue, that beastes vse discourse vpon occa∣sions, and are endewed with reason.

This I intend not to doe quite in particular, for that were to write the history of euery particular animal: but will content my selfe with touching the causes in common; yet in such sort, that the indifferent Reader may be satisfyed of a possibility, that these effects may proceed from materiall causes: and that I haue poynted out the way, to those who

are more curious, and haue the patience and leisure to obserue diligently what passeth among beastes, how they may trace these effects from steppe to steppe, vntill at length they discouer their true causes.

To beginne then; I conceiue we may reduce all those actions of beastes, which seeme admirable, and aboue the reach of an irrationall animal, vnto three or foure seuerall heades. The first may be of such, as seeme to be the very practise of reason, as doubting, resoluing, inuenting and the like. The next shall be of such, as by docility or practise beastes do oftentimes arriue vnto. In the third place, we will consider certaine continuate actions of a long tract of time, so orderly performed by them, as that discourse and rationall knowledge seeme clearely to shine through them. And lastly we will cast our eye vpon some others, which seeme to be euen aboue the reason that is in man himselfe, as the knowing of thinges which the sense neuer had impression of before, a prescience of future euents, prouidences, and the like.

As for the first:2 1.334 the doubting of beasts, and their long wauering sometimes betweene obiects that draw them seuerall wayes, and at the last their resoluing vpon some one of them, and their steady pursuance of that afterwardes; will not be matter of hard digestion to him, that shall haue well relished and meditated vpon the contents of the last Chapter: for it is euident, that if seuerall obiects of different natures do at the same time present themselues vnto a liuing creature, they must of necessity make diuers impressions in the hart of it, proportionable vnto the causes from whence they proceed: so that if one of them be a motion of hope, and the other be of feare; it can not choose but follow thence, that what one of them beginneth, the other will presently breake off: by which meanes it will come to passe, that in the beastes hart there must needes be such wauinges, as we may obserue in the sea, when at the beginning of a tide of stood, it meeteth with a banke that checketh the coming in of the waues, and for a while, beateth them backe as fast as they presse vpon it; they offer at getting ouer it, and by and by retire backe againe from the steepenesse of it, as though they were apprehēsiue of some danger on the other side; and then againe attempt it a fresh: and thus continue labouring, one while one way, an other while an other; vntill at the length the flood encreasing, the water seemeth to grow bolder, and breaketh a maine ouer the banke, and then floweth on, till it meeteth with an other, that resisteth it, as the first did: and thus you see, how the sea can doubt and resolue, without any discoursing. In the like manner it fareth with the hart of a beast (whose motions do steere the rest of his body) when it beateth betwixt hope and feare, or between any other two contrary passions, without requiring any other principles from whence to deduce it, then those we haue already explicated.

But now to speake of their inuention;3 1.335 I must confesse, that among seuerall of them, there appeareth so much cunning in laying of their plots (which when they haue compassed, they seeme to grow carelesse

and to vnbend their attention, as hauing obtained what with earnest∣nesse they desired) that one might thinke they wrought by designe, and had a distinct view of an end; for the effecting of which, they vsed discourse to choose the likeliest meanes.

To this purpose the subtilities of the foxe are of most note. They say he vseth to lye as if he were dead; thereby to make hennes and duckes come boldly to him. That in the night, whē his body is vnseene, he will fixe his eyes vpon poultry, and so make them come downe to him from their rooste. That to ridde himselfe of the fleas that afflict him in the summer, he will sinke his body by litle and litle into the water, while the fleas creepe vp to his head (to saue themselues from drowning) and from thence to a bough he holdeth in his mouth, and will then swimme away, leauing them there. That to cosen the badger of his earth, he will pisse in it; as knowing that the ranke smell of his vrine, will driue the othe cleanelier beast to quitt it. That when doggs are close vpon him, and catching at him, he will pisse vpon his tayle, and by firking that vp and downe, will endeauour (you may beleeue) to make their eyes smarte, and so retarde their pursuite, that he may escape from them.

And there are particular stories, that expresse yet more cunning then all these: as of a foxe, that being sore hunted, hanged himselfe by the teeth among dead vermine in a warren; vntill the dogges were passed by him, and had lost him. Of an other, that in the like distresse, would take into his mouth a broome bush growing vpon a steepe cliffe on the side hand neere his denne (which had an other way to it, easy enough of accesse) and by helpe of that, would securely cast himselfe into his hole; whiles the doggs that followed him hastily, and were ignorant of the danger, would breake their neckes downe the rockes.

It is said, that in Thracia, the country people so know whether the riuers that are frozen in the winter, will beare them or no, by marking whether the foxes venture boldely ouer them, or retire after they haue layed their eares to the yce, to listen whether or no they can heare the noyse of the water running vnder it: from whence you may imagine they collect, that if they heare the current of the streame, the yce must needes be thinne; and consequently dangerous to trust their weight vnto it.

And to busye my selfe no longer with their suttleties, I will conclude with a famous tale of one of these crafty animals; that hauing killed a goose on the other side of the riuer, and being desirous to swimme ouer with it, to carry it to his denne, before he would attempt it (least his prey might proue too heauy for him to swimme withall, and so he might loose it) he first weighed the goose with a piece of wood, and then tryed to carry that ouer the riuer, whiles he left his goose behind in a safe place; which when he perceiued he was able to do with ease, he then came backe againe, and ventured ouer with his heauy birde.

They say it is the nature of the Iacatray to hide it selfe, and imitate the voyce of such beasts, as it vseth to prey vpon; which maketh them come to him, as to one of their owne fellowes; and then he seiseth vpon them and deuoureth them.

The Iaccall, that hath a subtile sent, hunteth after beasts; and in the chace, by his barking guideth the lyon, (whose nose is not so good) till they ouertake what they hunt; which peraduenture would be too strong for the Iaccall; but the lyon killeth the quarry, and hauing first fed himselfe, leaueth the Iaccall his share: and so between them both, by the ones dexterity, and by the others strength, they gett meate for nourishment of them both.

Like storyes are recorded of some fishes. And euery day we see the inuentions of beasts to saue themselues from catching: as hares, when they are hunted, seeke alwayes to confound the sent; sometimes by taking hedges, other whiles waters; sometimes running among sheepe and other beasts of stronger sents; sometimes making doubles, and treading the same path ouer and ouer; and sometimes leaping with great iumpes hither and thither, before they betake themselues to their rest; that so the cōtinuatenesse of the sent may not lead doggs to their forme.

Now, to penetrate into the causes of these and of such like actions; we may remember,4 1.336 how we shewed in the last Chapter, that the beating of the hart worketh two thinges: the one is, that it turneth about the specieses, or litle corporeities (streaming from outward obiects) which remaine in the memory: the other is, that it is alwayes pressing on to some motion or other: out of which it happeneth, that when the ordinary wayes of getting victuals, or of escaping from enemies, do faile a creature whose constitution is actiue; it lighteth sometimes (though peraduenture very seldome) vpon doing something, out of which the desired effect followeth; as it can not choose but fall out now and then, although chance only do gouerne their actions: and when their action proueth successefull, it leaueth such an impression in the memory, that whensoeuer the like occasion occurreth, that animal will follow the same methode; for the same specieses do come together from the memory into the fantasy. But the many attēpts that miscarry, and the ineffectuall motions which straightes do cast beasts vpon, are neuer obserued, nor are there any stories recorded of them: no more then in the temple of Neptune, were kept vpon the registres, the relations of those vnfortunate wretches, who making vowes vnto that god in their distresse, were neuerthelesse drowned.

Thus peraduenture, when the foxe seeth his labour in chaceing the hennes, to be to no purpose; and that by his pursuite of them, he driueth them further out of his reach; he layeth himselfe downe to rest, with a watchfull eye, and perceiuing those silly animals to grow bolder and bolder, by their not seing him stirre, he continueth his lying still, vntill some one of them cometh within his reach, and then on a suddaine, he

springeth vp and catcheth her: or peraduenture some poultry might haue strayed within his reach whiles he was asleepe, and haue then wakened him with some noise they made; and so he happen to seise vpon one of them, without eyther designe or paines taking before hand: by such degrees he might chance to catch one the first time: and they being settled in his memory, together with the effect; it happened that an other time when hunger pressed him, and sent vp to his braine like spirits vnto those which ascended thither whiles he lay watching the hennes; these spirits brought the other from his memory into his fantasy (in such sort as we haue shewed in the last Chapter) and so droue him to the same course, vntill by frequent repetitions, it became ordinary and familiar with him: and then they that looke only vpon the performance of the artifice, are apt to inferre discourse and a designe of reason, out of the orderly conduct of it.

But how can we conceiue the foxe hath iudgement to know when the henne is come within his leape, and accordingly offereth not art her till then; vnlesse we resort to some other principle, then what is yet declared? The answere vnto this obiection I thinke will not be hard to find; for if the motion, which the presence of the obiect maketh in the hart, be proportioned out by nature (as there is no doubt but it is) it will not be so great and powerfull, as to make the foxe leape att it, vntill it be arriued so neere him, that by his nimblenesse he can reach it; and so without any ayme, further then by the meere fluxe of his passion conueniently raysed, he doth the feate: but if his passion be too violent, it maketh him misse his ayme; as we may frequently obserue both in men and beasts: and particularly, when feare presseth eyther of them to leapeouer a ditch, which being too broad, he lighteth in the middest of it.

The same watchfullnesse and desire to haue the poulen, that sitt vpon a tree out of his reach, maketh him fixe his eyes vpon them, when they are att rooste: and att length, eyther the brightnesse and sparkling of them, dazeleth the birdes, and maketh them come downe to them, (as flyes do in the night about the flame of a candle; or as fishes do to a light in a boates head;) or else they are affraid; and their feare encreasing, their spirits returne to the hart, which thereby is oppressed, and their outward partes are bereaued of strength and motion; from whence it followeth necessarily, that their footing looseth their hold fast, and they tumble downe halfe dead with feare; which happeneth also frequently to catts, when they looke wistly vpon litle birdes that sitt quietly. Or peraduenture, their feare maketh them giddy; as when some man looking downe a precipice from a dangerous standing, he falleth by the turning of his braine, though nothing be behind him to thrust him forewardes. Or it may be, some steame cometh from the foxe, which draweth such creatures to him; as it is reported that a great and very poysonous toade will do a weasell, who will runne about the toade

a great while, and still make his circle lesser and lesser, till at length he perisheth in the center, where his foe sitteth still, and draweth him to him: which he doth in such sort, as animated Mercury will draw leafe gold duely prepared, or as the loadestone attracteth iron: and yet it is apparent, the weasell cometh not with his good will; but that there are some powerfull chaines, steaming from the body of the toade, which plucke him thither against his liking; for by his motions and running, he will expresse the greatest feare that can be.

The methode which foxes do practise,5 1.337 to ridde themselues of their fleas (if it be true) is obuious enough for them to fall vpon; for in summer, their fleas together with their thicke furred coate, can not choose but cause an exceeding great itching and heate in their bodies; which will readily inuite them to go into the water to coole themselues; as the marchantes at the Isles of Zante and of Cephalonia told me (when I was there) it was the custome of our English doggs (who were habituated vnto a colder clyme) to runne into the sea in the heate of summer, and lye there most part of the day, with only their noses out of the water, that they might draw breath, and would sleepe there with their heads layed vpon some stone, which raysed them vp, whiles their bodies were couered with the sea: and those doggs which did not thus, would in one summer vsually be killed with heate and fleas.

Now when the foxe feeleth the ease that the coolenesse of the water affordeth that part of him which sitteth in it, he goeth further and further; yet would not putt himselfe to swimme, which is a labour, and would heate him, and therefore he auoydeth it; so that whiles he thus cooleth himselfe in some shady place (for it is naturall vnto him, in such an occasion, to resort vnto the coole shade, rather then to lye in the sunne) and in such there being for the most part some boughes hanging ouer the water, it happeneth naturally enough, that he taketh some of the lowest in his mouth, to support him, and saue him the labour of swimming, whiles he lyeth at his ease, soaking and cooling himselfe in the riuer. By which meanes it cometh to passe, that the fleas finding no part of him free from water, do creepe vp to the bough to rescue them∣selues from drowning: and so, when he is cooled enough, he goeth away and leaueth them there. In all which finding a benefitt and satisfaction, whensoeuer the like occasion bringeth those specieses, from his memory into his fantasy, he betaketh himselfe to the same course, and therein finding his remedy, at length it groweth familiar to him.

In the like manner, Thales his mule, that was heauily loaden with salt, happening to stumble, and to fall in a riuer she was going ouer, the salt melted by the water soaking into the sackes, and so she was eased of her burthen; which successe made her, whensoeuer she came to a riuer, and was troubled with her loading, she would lye downe in the water; and could not be reclaymed from it, till they charged sackes of wooll vpon her backe, which growing heauier by their imbibing of water, weaned her from her former crafty habit. By

which it is apparent, that it was memory and not iudgement, which made her for a while behaue her selfe so subtlely.

6 1.338For the foxes driuing the badget from his earth, you will not thinke it needefull to allow him a forecast and designe in pissing in it: but as it is naturall for him, to rest in a place that he meeteth with fitt for that purpose; so is it for him to pisse in it, if the liste take him whiles he is there; which in all likelyhood it will, if he stay any time there, and giue a relaxa∣tion to all his partes by sleepe.

And when he pisseth in his taile, and shaketh it in the dogges ey••s, it is euident that feare, not craft causeth this effect; for it auayleth him 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and therefore is not likely to proceed frō iudgement. And of the other, it is a naturall effect in all beasts (when it is violent) to contract their tailes betweene their legges, and to make their vrine come from them, (by compressing the spirits in their hart, which should support their outward partes, and strengthen their splincter muscle) which their being snapped at and seiled vpon by the dogges, shaketh from their busshy tailes (fitt to retayne it) and then lighting in the dogges eyes, the acrimony of it hurteth them, and maketh them shutt their liddes.

The story (if it be true) of the foxe, that to saue himselfe from the dogges that he heard following him in full crye, did hang by his teeth among dead vermine in a warren, is a very strange one I confesse: but it is conceiuable, how feare and wearinesse might cause him to seeke a shelter to hide himselfe: and in so plaine a tract of ground as warrens vse to be in, without any bush or hill to haue recourse vnto for reliefe, there appearing nothing but a gallowes hanged full of vermine; his fantasy might be moued (he being able to runne no further) to thrust himselfe among those dead bodies, that he saw rested quietly: and hauing no way to mingle himselfe with them, but hanging by his teeth; he might continue in that posture, till the doggs not suspecting him in the ayre, might runne vnder him, and ouershoote the sent: which whiles they cast about to recouer, by running to beate the next wood or shelter in view (as is there custome in losses of their chace; vnto which they are brought by their masters hunting them in that methode at the first) the wyly animal stealeth an other way, and recouereth himselfe.

7 1.339This ouerrunning of the sent by dogges in the earnestnesse of their chace, putteth me in mind of Montagues argument, out of which he will inferre, that dogges vse discourse, and do make syllogismes in their hunting: for (sayth he) when they haue followed their chace downe a lane, that a length diuideth it selfe into three others; they will carefully smell at the first and at the second, and not finding that it hath gone in eyther of those, they boldly runne vpon the third, without euer laying their noses to the ground▪ as being assured by their discourse and reason, that since it went not in the two first, and there being but one remay∣ning, it must of necessity haue gone there.

But this needeth no other cause, then that their eagernesse of hunting

hauing made them ouershoote the sent, (which for a while remayneth in their noses, after they are parted from the obiect that caused it) they cast backe againe (as they accustomed to be made to do in like occasions by the hunters that trayne them vp) and with their noses they try the ground all the way they goe; till coming neere where the chace went indeede, the sent striketh their noses (that by this time are growne empty of it) before they come at the place: and then they runne amaine in pursuite of it, with their heads held vp, (which is their conuenientest posture for running) and all the way, the sent filleth them at that distance without their needing to smell vpon the earth, to fetch it from thence.

That foxe which vsed to cast himselfe by the aduantage of a bough into his denne,8 1.340 was so closely pursued by the doggs the first time he ventured vpon this feate, that he had not time to goe into his earth (his ordinary retreate, when he is neere it) by the easy and accessible way; but on the one side, to gett thither being strong in his fantasy, and on the other side, the precipice which he had oftē seene, coming likewise thither from his memory; these two concurring could not choose but make him goe warily thither: and in so dangerous a leape, it is naturall for him, to helpe himself by any thing in the way that can aduantage him: which happening to be by catching in his mouth a bough that hung ouer his denne, (the only suddaine meanes he hath to take hold of any thing) and from thence taking as it were a new rise for a second leape, he findeth himselfe in security: whiles the doggs vnacquainted with the place, runne violently on, as in the rest of their chace: and so are vpon the brimme of the precipice, before they perceiue it; and then it is too late for them to stoppe their course; and consequently, they breake their neckes. Which mischiefe to them the foxe needeth not haue in his designe, and accor∣dingly tolle them that way; but chance begetting this deliurance of him at the first, when he was so hard pressed, his memory teacheth him to follow the same course, whensoeuer the like occasion occurreth.

But how many foxes doe there perish in attemps, which if they had succeeded, would haue beene accounted by slight iudgers, to be notable subtilities; but miscarrying are esteemed tumultuary motions without designe, caused by that animals fantasy and spirits, wh••n he is in extre∣mity? I remember how vpon a time, when I was hunting one, he being hard sett, and but litle before the doggs and the hunters, caught in his mouth the bough of a croked ashetree he runne vp a pretty way; which being in a hedge, h•• thereby hung downe a long the side of the hedge, and when we strucke him ouer the ribbes with our poles, he would not quitte his hold, (so strongly the feare of the doggs wrought in his fantasy) till greater blowes knocked him on the head. Which sheweth euidently that this action, was the effect of chance pressing his fantasy to do something; and not any reason or discourse prouiding for his safety: as we haue already said vpon occasion of the others hanging among the dead vermine in the warren.

Those in Thracia, that will not goe ouer a frozen riuer, when the yce is too thinne to beare them, are by their memory, not by their iudgment taught to retire; for at other times they haue beene wetted, when they haue hard the noise of the streame running vnder the yce: or the very running of the water, calleth the specieses of swimming out from their memory, along with it into their fantasy (neyther of which is pleasant to them in the winter) and so disliking the noise for the other effects sake, that vsed to accompany it, they auoyde that which begetteth it, and so retire from the riuer. And the reason of their listening to the noise, proceedeth from the spirits, that their passion vpon apprehension of a danger presseth into the nerues of their senses, as well as into the other nerues of their braine; which accordingly maketh them so vigilant, and attentiue then to outward obiects and motions.

9 1.341That the Iaccatray or Hyaena, when he is hungry, should haue his fantasy call out from his memory, the images of those beasts, which vse to serue him in that occasion, is the ordinary course of nature: and that together with those images, there should likewise come along the actions and soundes which vsed to accompany them, and are lodged together with them in the memory, is also naturall; then, as litle strange it is, that by his owne voice he should imitate those soundes, which at that time do so powerfully possesse his imagination: and hauing a great docility in those organes which forme the voice, like a parrat he representeth them so liuely, that the deceiued beasts flocke to him, and so are caught by him: which at the first happeneth by chance, but afterwardes by memory, and groweth familiar to him.

10 1.342Nor can we imagine, that the Iaccall hath a designe of seruing the lyon; but his nature being (like a dogg) to barke when he feeleth the sent hoat (which he pursueth for his owne sake) the lyon that dwelleth in the same woods with him, meeteth with the noise, and followeth it; and peraduenture would kill the Iaccal himselfe, as well as what he hunteth, if he could ouertake him: but he being too nimble for the lyon, keepeth out of his reach; till hauing wearied the beast he chaceth, the lyon that followeth by the crye, cometh in when he is at abbay, and soone teareth in pieces what the other had not strength enough so suddainely to master, and feedeth himselfe vpon the quarry till he be full. All this while the Iaccall dareth not come neere the lyon, but standeth at a distance with feare wayting till he haue done, and then after he is gone away, he taketh his turne to feede vpon what his surly master hath left.

11 1.343The like reasons it is probable we might find out among those fishes that serue one an other, if we had the conueniency of obseruing parti∣cularly how they behaue themselues; as when the Whale hath seruice from his little guide (if the report be true; which is a necessary circum∣stance to be inserted in euery such tale) and others of the like straine.

The suttlety of the Torpedo (who hideth himselfe in the mudde to

benumme fishes, that may afterwards serue him to feede vpon) will not require to haue its origine from reason, and be done by designe; when you shall consider it is naturall for such cold creatures to emmudde themselues: and then the fishes that swimme within the reach of his benumming faculty, will be stayd and frozen there: which because they see him not, they apprehend not, till it be too late for them to auoyde it: and then, when the Torpedo cometh out, he feedeth vpon what he findeth lying ready in his way.

And in like manner, the scuttle fish, when he is in straights of being taken by the fisherman, casteth out a blackenesse that is within him, and so making the water become like inke, he oftentimes escapeth their handes in the darkened Element: which ariseth from no discourse of his, but feare maketh him voyde this liquor that is in him (as it made the foxe voyde his vrine) and in consequence therevnto, the effect follow••th.

Lastly,12 1.344 when hares do vse those meanes we haue mentioned to confound the sent, and to saue themselues from the doggs that hunt them, we may obserue, that they take therein the readiest wayes, and the most obuious vnto sense, to auoyde the euill they flye from. For what can be more direct to that effect, then to hide themselues in hedge bottomes, or in woods? Or to swimme ouer a riuer, when that is the most immediate way to runne from the dogges? And when they are in a plaine, where there is no other shelter but flockes of sheepe or heardes of deere, what can be more naturall, then for them to hide themselues amōg them, and runne a long with them, till the crye of the approaching houndes fright them away, whiles those tamer beasts abyde it neerer?

Their doublings backward and foreward, may proceede from their feare, that diuerteth them still from the way they are in at present, till the doggs coming neere, do putt the hare out of those wauerings, and do make her runne straight away: for they neuer double but when they are a great way before the doggs, and do not heare them. Or else it may be, that not hearing or seeing the doggs, their feare may be almost passed; and then the agitation which their spirits are in, gouuerneth the motions of their bodie, and will not lett them rest vntill they be more appeased, (as you see weary people, that at their first ceasing from running, can not sitt still: the like of which happeneth also frequently in the motions of ioy or of anger) and so it maketh them walke backwards and forewardes, in a pace proportionate to the agitation of the spirits within: and sometimes those moued spirits do make them bound and leape too and fro (like the loafe with quickesiluer, we haue heretofore spoken of) as they issue from the hart by pulses and stroakes; which happeneth when they beginne to settle towardes rest. Or else peraduēture their forme is so framed, that if they should gett into it otherwise then by a iumpe, they would disorder some part of it, and so be vnfenced and

acold, or otherwise at vnease during their repose: and therefore their iumping too and froe, before they leape plump in, is to take their ayme; not much vnlike to doggs, turning about seuerall times before they lye downe: for harefinders (who vse to watch them) say they will do thus, though they be not pursued. And thus these actions which are imputed to craft, thereby to confound the doggs, or to wisedome, to walke them∣selues vntill they be growne into a fitting temper to sitt still; may all of them be reduced to those materiall and corporeall causes, which make them do their other ordinary motions, wherein we find no difficulty.

13 1.345If that of the foxes weighing his goose, before he would venture to carry it ouer the riuer, were plainely true as it is sett downe; I auowe I should be hard sett to find the principles from whence that discretion in him proceeded: but I conceiue this tale may be paired with that, which telleth vs of an other foxe who hauing his prey taken from him by an eagle, brought the next day a new prize into the same place, hauing first rolled it in the fire, so that some burning coales stucke vpon it; which the eagle coming againe and snatching from him, carried to her nest, which was thereby sett on fire; and the yong ones falling downe, became the foxes share, insteede of what their damme had robbed him of. Such stories so quaintly contriued, are fitter for a morall then for a naturall Philosopher: Aesope may entertaine himselfe and his disciples with them; whiles all the reflection I shall make vpon them, is, that when I heare any such finely ordered tales, I can not doubt but they are well amended in the relation, by those that tell them: it being the inclination and custome of most men, (partly through a desire of hauing strange thinges come from them; and partly out of a care that what they say may appeare like truth, and so be the easilier beleeued) to adde circum∣stances beyond the truth of the matter: which encreasing at euery new mans relation of the same accident (for this humour raigneth very generally) at the length, so hansome, and yet so strange a tale is composed, that the first authour or teller of it, wondereth at it as well as others, and can not discerne that his story begott this latter.

Therefore, when one of these fine tales is proposed to speculate vpon, and that I haue no light to guide me in determining what part of them to allow, and what to reiect; I thinke it better to exspect an authentike record of it, then be too hasty at guesses: leauing such as pretend ability in reading of riddles, to descant of the wayes how such actions may be effected: but for others, that haue a semblance of truth, or do happen ordinarily, be they at the first sight neuer so like the operatiōs of reason, I doubt not but that the causes of them, may be reduced to the principles we haue already established; and the wayes of performing them, may be pitched vpon by such discourses about them, as we haue made about those examples we haue aboue produced. Especially if the actions themselues, were obserued by one that could iudge of them, and were reported with a desire of expressing the truth nakedly as in it selfe it

lyeth; for diuers times it happeneth, that men saying nothing but truth, do expresse it in such a manner, and with such termes, that the ignorant hearer conceiueth the thing quite an other way, then indeed it is, meerely for the too emphaticall expression: especially if the relatour himselfe misseth in conceiuing the true causes of what he reporteth, and so expresseth it proportionable to those which he apprehendeth.

To conclude then this first branch, we see how the doubting, the resoluing, the ayming the inuenting, and the like, which we experience in beasts, may by the vestigies we haue traced out, be followed vnto their roote, as farre as the diuision of rarity and density; without needing to repaire vnto any higher principle, sauing the wisedome of the orderer and Architect of nature, in so admirably disposing and mingling these materiall, grosse, and lifelesse bodies, that strange effects and incomprehensible vnto them, who will not looke into their seuerall ioyntes, may follow out of them, for the good of the creature in whose behalfe they are so ordered.

But before we goe to the next poynt,14 1.346 we can not forbeare mentioning their vanity as well as ignorance, who to purchase the estimation of deeper knowers of nature, would haue it beleeued, that beasts haue compleate languages as men haue to discourse with one an other in; which they vaunted they had the intelligence of. It is true, that in vs speaking or talking is an operation of reason, not because it is in reason; but because it is the worke of reason, by an other instrument; and is no where to be found without reason: which those irrationall Philosophers, that pretended to vnderstand the language of beastes, allowed them, as well as the ability of talking to one an other: but it was because they had more pride then knowledge. Of which ranke one of the chiefe was Apollonius, surnamed from Thyana; for if he had knowne how to looke into the nature of beasts, he would haue perceiued the reason of the diuers voyces which the same beast in diuers occasions formeth.

This is euident, that an animals lunges and chest, lying so neere as they doe vnto his hart; and all voyce being made by the breathes coming out of his mouth, and through his windpipe; it must necessarily follow, that by the diuers ordering of these instruments, his voyce will become diuers; and these instruments will be diuersly ordered in him, according to the diuers motions of his hart: that is, by diuers passions in him (for so we may obserue in our selues, that our breath is much changed by our being in passion;) and consequently, as a beast is agitated by various passions, he must needes vtter variety of voyces; which cā not choose, but make diuers impressiōs in other beasts, that haue commerce with him; whether they be of the same kind as he is, or of a different: and so we see, that if a dogg setteth vpon a hogg, the bitten hogges crye maketh an impressiō in the other hogges, to come to their fellowes reskew, and in other dogges to runne after the crying hogg: in like manner anger in a dogge maketh snarling or barking, paine, whining;

desire, an other kind of barking; and his ioy of seeing a person that the vseth to receiue good by, will breake out in an other kind of whining. So in a henne, her diuers passions worke diuers kindes of clocking; as when she seeth a kite, she hath one voice; when she meeteth with meate, an other; when she desireth to gather her chickins vnder her winges, a third: and so, vpon diuers occasions, a diuers sound; according to the diuers ordering of her vocall instruments, by the passion which presseth her hart. So that who would looke curiously into the motions of the dispositions of a beastes vocal instruments, and into the motions of the spirits about his hart (which motion we haue shewed is passion) would be able to giue account, why euery voyce of that beast was such a one, and what motion about the hart it were that caused it.

And as much may be obserued in men, who in paines and griefes, and other passions, do vse to breake out into those voyces, which we call interiections, and which signifyeth nothing in the vnderstanding of them that forme them, but to the hearer are signes of the passion from whence they proceed: which if a man do heedefully marke in himselfe, he will perceiue, that they nothing else, but the suddaine eruptions of a great deale of breath together, caused by some compression made within him, by the paine he is in. Which is the reason that the striuing against groanings in certaine occasions, doth sicke persons much harme; for it disordereth the naturall motions of some principall partes within him, that are already too much agitated; and the countermotion by which they are checked, putteth them further into a more violent agitation. In the obseruation of these naturall eruptions of mens breath, caused by Passion, our fore fathers of old were so industrious, as to transferre the imitation of nature in this particular into Musike, so that their kindes of musike, were distinguished according to the diuision of mens passions; and by similitude would raise them in the hearers.

Out of this discourse also reason may be giuen, why birdes are more musicall then other creatures, to witt, because they are of a hoater complexion; and therefore, to their biggenesse, do require more breath and ayre to coole them; and consequently do make more noise, and more variety of it. Likewise, among beasts, doggs are the most vocall of any that conuerse with vs; who by their ready anger appeare to be the hoatest. Among men, those that are merry, or soone become heated with a litle wine, are giuen to talking and singing: and so are children, and women likewise; not so much through aboundance of heate, as because their heate doth easily vent.

And thus it is euident, that there is no true language among beastes: their voices not being tokens of diuers thinges or conceptions, but meerely the effects of diuers breathings, caused by diuers passions. Wherefore, since both breathing and passion, are easily reduced to the common principles of rarity and density; wee neede not trouble our selues any further, to seeke into the origine of this vocall faculty of beastes.

THE SEVEN AND THERTIETH CHAPTER. Of the docility of some irrationall animals; and of certaine continuate actions of a long tract of time so orderly performed by them, that they seeme to argue knowledge in them.

AS for docility,1 1.347 (which is our second head) Apes and Elephantes are most famed. Though peraduenture, the cunning and obedience of our hawkes and doggs, is no whitt inferiour to what is reported of them; and would be as much admired, were it not so common. I haue by sundry persons who haue seene him, beene told of a baboone, that would play certaine lessons vpon a guitarre. The indian histories make mention of Apes, that will goe to the tauerne and fetch wine for their Masters; as Lipsius his dogg would bring his Master as much meate from the market, as he carried money to his butcher to pay for. Of Elephants likewise, strange thinges are told: but because we can not easily iudge how to vnderstand reportes, whereof we haue not seene the experience; not how farre to belieue them, •• intend not to insist vpon the examining of them; for by looking into the nature and art of our houndes that follow a suite of bloud, or that draw dry foote; and of our hawkes, especially of the decoy duckes and Cormorants; a scantling may be giuen at all the rest. And al••hough these thinges told at randome, may iustly seeme very admirable to any man the first time he heareth of them, yet to him that vnderstandeth how they are taught, there is no one passage but will appeare plaine enough.

The first degree is to tame the h••wke by watching her from sleepe, and to acquaint her with the man, by continually carrying her vpon his fist, and vsing her to take her meate quietly, as she sitteth vpon his hand. Then he maketh her hoppe a litle way to it in a paire of cranes; and after a while, kill a seeled pigeon; from which he taketh her when she is growne steady in her lesson so farre, and feedeth her vp with other meate: and thus in time he bringeth her to fly at what he will haue her, and to be content with a small reward, leauing her quarry to her Master; so that a spectatour, who vnderstandeth not the mystery, nor euer saw hawking before, may well admire to see a bird so dutifully and exactly obey a mans command: and may conceiue she hath a reasonable soule, whereby to vnderstand him, and discourse of the meanes to bring his purpose to effect. Whereas indeed all this is no more, then to make her do for you and when you please, the same which she doth by nature to feede her selfe.

The cunning of doggs is begotten in the same way. Coyduckes are beaten and whipped to what they are taught, like setting doggs▪ Cormorantes haue their throates tyed, that they may not swallow the

fish they catch, but be cōstrained to bring it to the man that employeth them; so that looking along steppe by steppe, you shall meete with nothing but what is plaine, and easy to be taught, and to be performed by sense and memory; without needing to attribute any discourse or reasoning vnto beastes.

Apes are likewise taught as dogges may be, to carry thinges to a certaine house; where receiuing what is giuen them, they returne home with it: and you may be confident, this seruiceablenesse of the Ape, grew out of his being carried first to the tauerne by the maide or boy, who there gaue him somewhat that pleased him; and then being made to carry the pott along by the boy; and afterwardes being made to carry money in one hand, and the pott in an other; whereof some drawer discharged him of the one, and filled the other, and withall gaue him a reward▪ which also was repeated to him at his returne home with his full pott: till at the last, when he was sufficiently vsed to this exercise, he would of himselfe goe straight thither, as soone as he was harnessed in such sort as he vsed to be for this seruice. Which appeareth to be assuefaction and custome, not iudgement, by his receiuing indifferently whatsoeuer is put into his pott.

And by the tale of Lipsius his dogg; from whom other lesse doggs, snatching as he trotted along, part of what hung out of his basket (which he carried in his mouth) he sett it downe to werry one of them; whiles in the meane time, the others fedde at liberty and at ease vpon the meate that lay there vnguarded; till he coming backe to it, droue them away, and himselfe made an end of eating it vp. Whereby we may conceiue, that the species of carrying his basket to his Master (which custome had settled in his memory) was disordered, and thrust out of his fantasy, by a stronger of fighting for his meate with the other curres: after which it followed naturally in his fantasy, to eate what he had fought for. And that sending then spirits into his nerues, agreeable to the nature of it, and gouerning the partes depending of the braine, a motion and action ensewed, which was sutable to the obiect in the fantasy; and this could be none other, but of eating what the fantasy found confor∣mable vnto its nature.

2 1.348The baboone we haue mentioned, might be taught some lessons made on purpose with very few stoppes, and vpon an instrument whereon all the stringes may be strucken with one blow, and but one frette to be vsed at a time, and that frette to be stopped with one finger: of which, much labour and time might beget a habit in him: and then, imitation of the sound, might make him play in due measure. And if we will marke it in our selues, we shall see, that although in the first learning of a lesson vpon the lute, we employ our reason and discourse about it; yet when we haue it very perfect, our fingers (guided by a slight fantasy) do fall by custome, without any reflexion at all, to play it as well as if we thought neuer so carefully vpō it. And there is no comparison, betweene the difficulty of a guitarre and of a lute.

I haue beene told, that at the Duke of Florence his marriage, there was a dance of horses, in which they kept exact time of musike. The meanes vsed for bringing them to it, is said to haue beene, by tying and hampering their legges in such a sort, that they could lift them vp but in a determinate way: and then setting them vpon a pauement, that was heated vnderneath so hott, as they could not endure to stand still, whiles such musicall ayres were played to them, as fitted their motions. All which being often repeated, the horses tooke a habitt, that in hearing those ayres, they would lift vp their legges in that fashion; and so danced to the tune they had beene taught.

Of the Elephantes,3 1.349 it is said that they may be taught to write; and that purely vpon wordes and commanding them, they will do what they are bidden; and that they are able to keepe account, and will leaue working at a precise number of reuolutions of the same action, which measureth out their taske vnto them. All which (as I said before) if it were plainely and litterally true, would require very great consideration: but because the teachers of beastes, haue certaine secrets in their art, which standers by do not reach vnto; we are not able (vpon such scanty relations as we haue of them) to make sufficient iudgement how such ••hinges are done; vnlesse we had the managing of those creatures, whereby to try them in seuerall occasions, and to obserue what cause produceth euery operation they doe; and by what steppes they attayne vnto their instructions and seruiceablenesse.

It is true, the vncontrolled reports of them, oblige vs to beleeue some extraordinary matter of their docility, and of strange thinges done by them: but withall, the example of other taught beastes among vs, and of the strange iudgements that are made of them by persons, who do not penetrate into their causes, may instruct vs how easy it is to mistake the matter; and assure vs, that the relations which are made vs, do not alwayes punctually agree with the truth of what passed. He that should tell an Indian, what feates Bankes his horse would do; how he would restore a gloue to the due owner, after his master had whispered that mans name in his eare; how he would tell the iust number of pence in any piece of siluer coyne barely shewed him by his master; and euen obey presently his command, in discharging himselfe of his excrements whensoeuer he bad him (So great a power art may haue ouer nature:) would make him I beleeue, admire more at this learned beast, then we do at their docile Elephantes, vpon the relations we haue of them. Whereas euery one of vs knoweth, by what meanes his painefull tutor brought him to do all his trickes: and they are no whitte more extraordinary, then a f••wkeners manning of a hawke, and trayning her to kill partridges, and to fly at the retriue: but do all of them (both these, and all other iuggling artificies of beastes) depend vpon the same, or like principles; and are knowne to be but directions of nature, ordered by one that composeth and leuelleth her operations to an end further off (in those

actions) then she of her selfe would ayme at. The particulars of which, we neede not trouble ourselues to meddle with.

4 1.350But it is time that we come to the third sort of actions performed by beastes, which we promised to discourse of. These seeme to be more admirable, then any we haue yet touched: and are chiefely concerning the breeding of their yong ones. Aboue all others, the orderly course of birds in this affaire, is most remarkable. After they haue coupled they make their nest, they line it with mosse, straw, and feathers; they lay their egges, they sett vpon them, they hatch them, they feede their yong ones, and they teach them to flye: all which they do with so continuate and regular a methode, as no man can direct or imagine a better.

But as for the regularity, orderlinesse, and continuance of these actions, the matter is easy enough to be conceiued: for seeing that the operation of the male, maketh a change in the female; and that this change beginning from the very first, groweth by time into diuers proportions; it is no wonder that it breedeth diuers dispositions in the female, which cause her to do different actions, correspondent to those diuers dispositions. Now, those actions must of necessity be constant and orderly, because the causes whence they proceed, are such.

But to determine in particular, how it cometh to passe, that euery change in the female, disposeth her to such and such actions, there is the difficulty; and it is no small one: as well, for that there are no carefull and due obseruations, made of the effects and circumstances, which should guide vs to iudge of their causes; as because these actions, are the most refined ones of sensitiue creatures; and do flow from the toppe and perfection of their nature; and are the last straine of their vtmost vigour, vnto which all others are subordinate. As in our enquiry into the motions and operations of the bodies of a lower orbe then these, we mett with some (namely the loadestone, and such like) of which it is very hard to giue an exact and plaine account; the Author of them reseruing something from our cleare and distinct knowledge; and suffering vs to looke vpon it but through a miste: in like manner we can not but expect, that in the depth of this other perfecter nature, there must be somewhat whereof we can haue but a glimmering and imperfect notion. But as in the other, it serued our turne to trace out a way, how those operations might be effected by bodies, and by locall motion (though peraduenture, we did not in euery circumstance hitt exactly vpon the right) thereby to defend ourselues from admitting those chymericall qualities, which we had already condemned, vpon all other occasions.

So I conceiue, it will be sufficient for vs in this, to shew how these actions may be done by the senses, and by the motion of corporeall spirits, and by materiall impressions vpon them; without being constrained to resort vnto an immateriall principle, which must furnish

birdes with reason and discourse: in which, it is not necessary for my purpose, to determine precisely euery steppe, by which these actions are performed, and to settle the rigorous of them: but leauing that vnto those, who shall take paines to deliuer the history of their nature, I will content my selfe with the possibility and probability of my cōiectures. The first of which qualities, I am obliged to make plaine, but the later concerneth this treatise no more, then it would do a man to enquire anxiously into the particulars of what it is that a beast is doing, whiles looking vpon it, at a great distance, he perceiueth plainely that it moueth it se••fe: and his arrant is, but to be assured whether it be aliue or dead: which the mouing of it selfe in common, doth sufficiently demonstrate, without descending into a particular search, of what his motions are.

But lett vs come to the matter: first I conceiue no man will make any difficulty in allowing, that it is the temper of the bloud and spirits in birdes (brought therevnto by the quality of their foode, and by the season of the yeare) which maketh them accouple with one an other; and not any ayme or desire of hauing yong ones, that occasioneth, this action in thē. Then it followeth that the hennes egges will encrease in her belly; and whē they grow bigge, they can not choose but be troublesome vnto her; and therefore, must of necessity breede in her an inclination to rest in some soft place, and to be ridde of them. And as we see a dogg or a catt pressed by nature, searcheth about to find a conuenient place to disburthen themselues in, not only of their yong ones, but euen of their excrements; so do birdes, whose egges within them, making them heauy and vnfitt to flye, they beginne to sitt much, and are pleased in a soft and warme place: and therevpon, they are delighted with strawes and mosse, and other gentle substances; and so carry them to their sitting place: which that they do not by designe, is euident by the manner of it; for when they haue mette with a straw or other fitt materiall, they fly not with it directly to their nest, but first to a bough of some tree, or to the toppe of a house; and there they hoppe and dance a while with it in their beakes; and from thence skippe to an other place, where they entertaine themselues in like manner: and at the last, they gett to their nest: where if the strawes should lye confusedly, their endes would pricke and hurt them: and therefore they turne and alter their positions till they lye smooth: which we that looke vpon the effect, and compare them with our performing of like actions (if we had occasion) may call a iuditious ordering of them, whereas in them, it is nothing but remouing such thinges as presse vpon their sense, vntill they cause them no more paine or vnquietnesse.

Their plastering of their nestes, may be attributed to the great heat raigning in them at that time; which maketh them still be dabbling in moist clay, and in water, and in grauell, (without which, all birdes will soone grow sicke, blind, and at length dye (which for the coolenesse of

it, they bring home to their nestes in their beakes and vpon their feete; and when it groweth dry, and consequently troublesome to them, they wipe it off, and rubbe their durty partes vpon the place where they vse to sitt; and then flye for more refresh themselues withall.

Out of all which actions (sett on foote by the wise orderer of nature, to compasse a remote end, quite different from the immediate end that euery one of them is done for) there resulteth a fitt and conuenient place for these litle builders (that know not whay they do, whiles they build themselues houses) to lye in, and to lay their egges in. Which the next yeare, when the like occasion occurreth, they build againe; peraduenture then, as much through memory of the former, as vpon their temper and other circumstances, mouing their fantasy in such sort as we haue sett downe.

In like manner, that whiles the Halcyon layeth and hatcheth her egges, the sea is calme, needeth no more be attributed to the wisedome and prouidence of that bird, in choosing a fitt season, then to any good nature or discourse in that rouling and mercilesse Element; as though it had a pious care of preseruing the egges committed to his trust: no such supplements are requisite to be added vnto the distributions of nature, who hath sett materiall causes on foote, to produce a coniuncture of both those effects at the same periode of time, for the propagation of this animals species.

In fine, both the time and the place of the Halcyons breeding, and the manner, and order, and season of all birdes making their nestes, proceedeth from secret motions, which do require great obseruing and attention to vnderstand them; and do serue for directions vnto euery bird, according to her kind, to make her neste fittest for her vse. Which secret motions, we can not doubt but are materiall ones, and do arise out of the constitution and temper of their bodies and spirits; which in like circumstances are alike in them all: for all the birdes of one kind, do make their nestes exactly alike; which they would not do, if this worke proceeded from reason in them, and were gouerned by their owne election and designe: as we see it happen amōg men vpon all occasions, eyther of building houses, or of making clothes, or of what action soeuer is guided by their reason gouerning their fantasy; in all which we see so great variety and inconstancy.

And therefore this in variability in the birdes operations, must proceed from a higher intellect, that hath determinately and precisely ordered a complexe or assembly of sundry causes, to meete infaillibly and by necessity, for the production of an effect that he hath designed: and so, the birdes are but materiall instruments to performe without their knowledge or reflection, a superiour reasons counselles: euen as in a clocke, that is composed of seuerall pieces and wheeles, all the partes of it, do conspire to giue notice of the seuerall effluxes and periodes of time, which the maker hath ordered it for.

And although this be a worke of reason and discourse in him, that d••d sett it together; yet the instrumentall performance of it, dependeth meerely of locall motion, and of the reuolutions of bodies, so orderly proportioned to one an other, that their effects can not faile when once the engine is wound vp: in like manner then, the bird is the engine of the Artificer, infinitely more perfect, and knowing, and dexterous then a poore clockemaker; and the plummets which do make it goe, are the rowe and order of causes chained together, which by the designe of the supreme workeman, do bring to passe such effects, as we see in the building of their nestes, and in doing such other actions, as may be compared to the strickings of the clocke, and the ringing of the allarum at due times.

And as that king of China, vpon his first seeing a watch, thought it a liuing a iuditious creature, because it moued so regularly of it selfe; and beleeued it to be dead, when it was runne out; till the opening of it and the winding it vp, discouered vnto him the artifice of it: so any man may be excused, that looking vpon these strange actions, and this admi∣rable oeconomy of some liuing creatures, should beleeue them endewed with reason, vntill he haue well reflected vpon euery particular circum∣stance of their nature and operations: for then he will discerne how these are but materiall instruments of a rationall Agent working by them; from whose orderly prescriptions, they haue not power to swarue in the least circumstance that is. Euery one of which considered singly by it selfe, hath a face of no more difficulty, then that (for example) an ingenier should so order his matters, that a mine should be ready to play exactly at such an houre, by leauing such a proportion of kindled match hanging out of one of the barrels of pouder, whiles in the meane time, he eyther sleepeth, or attendeth to something else.

And when you haue once gayned thus much of your selfe, to gr••ee vnto an orderly course and generation of any single effect, by the power of a materiall cause working it; raise but your discourse a straine higher, and looke with reuerence and duty vpon the immensity of that prouident Architect, out of whose handes these masterpieces issue, and vnto whom it is as easy to make a chaine of causes of a thousand or of a million of linkes, as to make one linke alone: and then you will no longer sticke at allowing the whole oeconomy of those actions, to be nothing else, but a production of materiall effects, by a due ranging and ordering of materiall causes.

But lett vs returne to our theame: as we see that milke coming into the brestes of liuebearing female creatures, when th••y grow wery bigge, heateth and maketh them seeke the mouthes of their yong ones, to disburthen and coole them: so the carriage and biggenesse of the egges, heateth exceedingly the brestes and bodies of the birdes; and this causeth them to be still rubbing of their brestes, against the sides of their nestes (where vnto their vnwieldinesse then, confineth them very

much) and with their beakes to be still picking their feathers; which being then apt to fall off and me we (as we see the haire of women with childe, is apt to shedde) it happeneth that by then they are ready to lay their egges, they haue a soft bed of their owne feathers, made in their nestes, ouer their courser mattrasse of strawes they first brought thither: and then, the egges powerfull attracting of the annoying heate from the hennes brest (whose imbibing of the warmeth, and stonelike shell, can not choose but coole her much inuiteth her to sitt constantly vpon them, vntill sitting hatcheth them; and it is euidēt, that this sitting must proceed from their temper at that time, or from some other immediate cause, which worketh that effect; and not from a iudgement that doth it for a remote end: for housewifes tell vs, that at such a season, their hennes will be sitting in euery conuenient place they come vnto, as though they had egges to hatch, when neuer a one is vnder them: so as it seemeth that at such time, there is some inconuenience in their bodies, which by sitting is eased.

When the chickens are hatched, what wōder is it, if the litle crying of tender creatures, of a like nature and lāguage with their dāmes, do moue those affectiōs or passions in her bosome, which causeth her to feede thē, and to defend, and breede them, till they be able to shift for themselues? For all this there needeth no discourse or reason; but only the motion of the bloud about the hart (which we haue determined to be passiō) stirred by the yong ones chirpinges, in such sort, as may carry them vnto those actions which by nature (the supreme intellect) are ordered for their preseruation. Wherein the birdes (as we haue already said) are but passiue instruments, and know not why they do those actions: but do them they must, whensoeuer such and such obiects (which infaillibly wo••ke in their due times) do make such and such impressions vpon their fantasies, like the allarum that necessarilly striketh, when the hand of the dyall cometh to such a point; or the gunnepouder that necessarily maketh a ruine and breach in the wall, when the burning of the match reacheth to it.

Now this loue in the damme, growing by litle and litle wearisome and troublesome to her; and at last, fading quite away; and she not being able to supply their encreased needes, which they grow euery day stronger to prouide for of themselues; the straight commerce beginneth to dye on both sides: and by these degrees the damme leaueth her yong ones, to their owne conduct.

And thus you see how this long series of actions, may haue orderly causes, made and chained together, by him that knew what was fitting for the worke he went about. Of which, though it is likely I haue missed of the right ones (as it can not choose but happen in all disquisitions, where one is the first to breake the yce, and is so slenderly informed of the particular circumstances of the matter in question, as I professe to be in this) yet I conceiue this discourse doth plainely shew, that he who hath

done more then we are able to comprehend and vnderstand, may haue sett causes sufficient for all these effects, in a better order, and in compleater rankes, then those which we haue here expressed: and yet in them so coursely hewed out, appeareth a possibility of hauing the worke done by corporeall agents. Surely it were very well worth the while, for some curious and iuditious person, to obserue carefully and often, the seuerall steppes of nature in this progresse: for I am strongly persuaded, that by such industry, we might in time arriue to very particular know∣ledge of the immediate and precise causes, that worke all these effects. And I cōceiue, that such obseruation needeth not be very troublesome; as not requiring any great variety of creatures to institute it vpon; for by ma••king carefully all that passeth among our homebred hennes, I beleeue it were easy to guesse very neerely at all the rest.

THE EIGHT AND THERTIETH CHAPTER. Of prescience of future euentes, prouidencies, the knowing of thinges neuer seene b••fore; and such other actions, obserued in some liuing creatures; which seeme to be euen aboue the reason that is in man himselfe.

THe fourth and last kind of actions,1 1.351 which we may with astonishment obserue among beastes, I conceiue will auayle litle to inferre out of them, that the creatures which do them, are endewed with reason and vnderstanding: for such they are, as if we should admitt that, yet we should still be as farre to seeke for the causes whence they proceed. What should moue a lambe to tremble at the first sight of a wolfe? or a henne, at a kite neuer before seene? neither the grimmest mastife, or the biggest owle, will at all affright them.

That which in the ordinary course of nature, causeth beastes to be affraide of men, or of other beastes, is the hurt and the euill they receiuē from them: which coming into their fantasie, together with the Idaea of him that did it, is also lodged together with it in the memory; from whence they come linked or glewed together, whensoeuer the stroake of any new obiect calleth eyther of them backe into the fantasie. This is confirmed by the tamenesse of the birdes and beastes, which the first discouerers of Islandes not inhabitated by men, did find in those they mett withall there. Their stories tell vs, that at their first arriuall vpon those coastes, where it seemeth men had neuer beene, the birdes would not flye away, but suffered the marriners to take them in their handes: nor the beastes, which with vs are wilde, would runne from them: but their discourteous guestes vsed them so hardely, as they soone changed their confidence into distrust and auersion; and by litle they grew, by

their commerce with men, and by receiuing iniuries from them, to be as wilde, as any of the like kind in our partes.

From the dammes and sires, this apprehension and feare at the sight of men, so deepely rooted in them, is doubtlessely transmitted to their yong ones: for it proceedeth out of the disposition of the body, and out of the passion which is immediately made in the hart; and that is as truly a materiall motion, as any whatsoeuer can be; and must haue settled materiall instruments sitted to it, if it be constant, as well as any other naturall operation whatsoeuer: and this passion of the hart, proceedeth againe from a perpetuall connexion, of the two obiects in the memory: which being a perpetually constant thing, is as true a quality of that beastes braine in whome it is, as the being of a quicke or dull appre∣hension, or the being apt to know one kind of meate from an other (which is natural to the whole species) or any other quality whatsoeuer, residing in that beast.

2 1.352Wherefore it is no wonder, that it passeth by generation to the offspring: which is a thing so common, euen in man kinde, as there can be no doubt of it: and is at the first, made by a violent cause, that greatly altereth the body: and consequently, their seede must be imbewed with a like dispo∣sition; and so it passeth together with the nature of the fire, or of the damme, into the broode. From hence proceedeth that children do loue the same meates, and exercises, that their fathers and mothers were affected with, and feare the like harmes.

This is the reason, why a grandchilde of my Lord of Dorset (whose honoured name must neuer be mentioned by me, without a particular respect, and humble acknowledgement of the noble and steady frend∣shippe, he hath euer beene pleased to honour we with) was alwayes extremely sicke, if but the nurse did eate any capers (against which my Lords antipathy is famous) whiles she gaue sucke to that pretty infant. The children of great Mathematicians, who haue beene vsed to busye their fantasies continually with figures and proportions, haue beene oftentimes obserued, to haue a naturall bent vnto those sciences. And we may note, that euen in particular gestures, and in litle singularities in familiar conuersation, children will oftentimes resemble their parents, as well as in the lineaments of their faces. The yong ones of excellent setting doggs, will haue a notable aptitude to that exercise; and may be taught with halfe the paines, that their sire or damme was, if they were chosen out of a race of spaniels not trained to setting. All which effects can proceed from no other cause, but (as we haue touched already) that the fantasy of the parent, altereth the temper and the dispo∣sition of his body and seede, according as it selfe is tempered and disposed: and consequently, such a creature must be made of it, as retaineth the same qualities: in such sort as it is said that sufficient tartar putt at the roote of a tree will make the fruite haue a winy tast.

But nothing doth confirme this so much, as certaine notable accidents,

whereof though euery one in particular would seeme incredible,3 1.353 yet the number of them, and the weight of the reporters, who are the wit∣nesses can not choose but purchase a generall creditt to the kind of them. These accidents are, that out of some strong imagination of the parents, but especially of the mothers, in the time of conception, the children draw such maine differences, as were incredible, if the testifying authority were not so great: but being true, they conuince beyond all question the truth we haue proposed, of the parents imagination working vpon, and making an impression in the seede, whereof children or yong ones of their kind are made. Some children of white parents are reported to haue beene blacke, vpon occasion of a blacke moores picture too much in the mothers eye. Others are said to haue beene borne with their skinnes all hairy, out of the sight of St. Iohn Baptistes picture as he was in the desert, or of some other hairy image. An other childe is f••med to haue beene borne deformed, in such sort as diuels are painted, because the father was in a diuels habitt when he gott the childe.

There was a Lady a k••nswoman of mine, who vsed much to weare black•• patches vpon her face (as was the fashion among yong women) which I to putt her from, vsed to tell her in iest, that the next childe she should go with, whiles the sollicitude and care of those patches was so strong in her fantasy, would come into the world with a great blacke spott in the middest of its forehead: and this apprehension was so liuely in her imagination at the times she proued with childe, that her daughter was borne ma••k••d iust as the mother had fansied, which there are at hand witnesses enough to confirme; but none more pregnant, then the yong Lady herselfe, vpon whom the marke is yet remaining. Among other creatures, it is said that a henne hatched a chicken with a kites bill, because sh•• was frigh••ed with a kite, whiles the cocke was treading her. The story of Iacobs sheepe is knowne to all: and some do write, that the painting of beautifull coloured pigeons in a douehouse, will make the following race become like them: and in Authors store of such examples may be found.

To giue a reasonable and fully satisfying cause of this great effect, I confesse is very difficult; seeing that for the most part, the parents seede is made long time before the accoupling of the male and female: and though it were not, we should be mainely to seeke for a rationall ground to discourse in particular vpon it. Yet not to leaue our Reader without a hinte which way to driue his inquisition, we will note thus much, that Aristotele and other naturall Philosophers and Physitians do affirme, that in some persons the passiō is so great in the time of their accoupling, that for the present it quite bereaueth them of the vse of reason; and that they are for the while, in a kind of short fitt of an epylepsie. By which it is manifest, that aboundance of animal spirits do then part from the head, and descend into those partes which are the instruments of gene∣ration. Wherefore, if there be aboundance of specieses of any one kind

of obiect then strong in th•• imagination, it must of necessity be carryed downe together with the spirits into the seede: and by consequence, when the seede infected with this nature, beginneth to seperate and distribute it selfe, to the forming of the seuerall partes of the Embryon, the spirits which do resort into the braine of the child (as to their proper Element) and from thence do finish all the outward cast of its body (in such sort as we haue aboue described) do sometimes happen to fill certaine places of the childes body, with the infection and tincture of this obiect; and that according to the impression with which they were in the mothers fātasy: for so we haue said, that thinges which come together into the fantasy, do naturally sticke together in the animall spirits. The hairynesse therefore, will be occasioned in those partes, where the mother fansyed it to be: the colour likewise, and such extancies or defects, as may any way proceed from such a cause, will happen to be in those partes, in which they were fansyed. And this is as farre, as is fitt to wade into this point, for so generall a discourse as ours is; and more thē was necessary for our turne: to the seruing whereof, the verity of the fact only, and not the knowledge of the cause, was required: for we were to shew no more, but that the apprehensions of the parents, may descend to the children.

Out of this discourse, the reason appeareth, why beastes haue an auersion from those, who vse to do them harme: and why this auersion descendeth from the old ones to their broode; though it should neuer haue happened that they had formerly encountred with, what at the first sight they flye from and auoyde.

4 1.354But yet the reason appeareth not, why (for example) a sheepe in Englād (where there are no wolues bred, nor haue beene these many ages) should be affraide, and tremble at sight of a wolfe, since neyther he, nor his damme or sire, nor theirs in multitudes of generations, euer saw a wolfe, or receiued hurt by any. In like manner, how should a tame weasell brought into England from Ireland (where there are no poysonous crea∣tures) be affraide of a toade as soone as he seeth one? Neyther he, nor any of his race, euer had any impressions following harme, made vpon their fantasies: and as litle can a lyon receiue hurt from a household cocke: therefore we must seeke the reasons of these and such like antipathies, a litle further, and we shall find them hanging vpon the same string, with sympathies proportionable to them.

Lett vs goe by degrees: we dayly see that dogges, will haue an auersion from glouers, that make their ware of dogges skinnes: they will barke at them, and be churlish to them, and not endure to come neere them, although they neuer saw thē before. The like hatred they will expresse to the dogge killers in the time of the plague, and to those that flea dogges. I haue knowne of a man that vsed to be employed in such affaires, who passing sometimes ouer the groundes neere my mothers house (for he dwelled at a village not farre off) the dogges would winde him at a very great distance, and would all runne furiously out the way he was, and

fiercely fall vpon him; which made him goe alwayes well prouided for them: and yet he hath beene sometimes hard put to it, by the fierce mastifes there, had it not beene for some of the seruantes coming in to his reskew; who by the frequent happening of such accidents, were warned to looke out when they obserued so great commotion and fury in the dogges, and yet perceiued no present cause for it. Warreners obserue, that vermine will hardly come into a trappe, wherein an other of their kind hath beene lately killed: and the like happeneth in mouse∣trappes, into which no mouse will come to take the bayte, if a mouse or two haue already beene killed in it; vnlesse it be made very cleane, so that no sent of them remaine vpon the trappe: which can hardly be done on the suddaine otherwise then by fire.

It is euident, that these effects are to be referred, to an actiuity of the obiect vpon the sense; for some smell of the skinnes, or of the dead dogges, or of the vermine, or of the mice, can not choose but remaine vpon the men and vpon the trappes; which being altered from their due nature and temper, must needes offend ••h••m. Their conformity on the one side (for something of the canine nature remaineth) maketh them haue easy ingression into them; and so they presently make a deepe impression: but on the other side, their distemper from what they should be, maketh the impression repugnant to their nature, and be disliked by them, and to affect them worse, then if they were of other creatures, tha•• had no conformity with them: as we may obserue, that stinkes offend vs more, when they are accompanied with some weake perfume, then if they sett vpon vs single; for the perfume getteth the stinke easyer admittance into our sense: and in like manner, it is said that poisons are more dangerous, when they are mingled with a cordiall that is not able to resist them: for it serueth to conuey them to the hart, though it be not able to ouercome their malignity.

From hence then it followeth, that if any beast or bird do prey vpon some of an other kind, there will be some smell about them, exceedingly noysome to all others of that kind: and not only to beastes of that same kind, but (for the same reason) euen to others likewise, that haue a corres∣pondence and agreement of temper and constitution with that kind of beast, whose hurt is the originall cause of this auersion. Which being assented vnto, the same reason holdeth to make those creatures, whose constitutions and tempers do consist of thinges repugnant and odious to one an other, beat perpetuall enmity, and flye from one an other at the first sight, or at the least, the sufferer from the more actiue creature: as we see among those men, whose vnhappy trade and continuall exercises it is to empty iakeses, such horride stinkes are by time growne so conformable to their nature, as a strong perfume will as much offend them, and make them as sicke, as such stinks would do an other man bred vp among perfumes: and a cordiall to their spirits, is some noysome smell, that would almost poysone an other man. And thus, if in the

breath of the wolfe, or in the steame coming from his body, be any quality offensiue to the lambe (as it may very well be, where there is so great a contrariety of natures) it is not strange, that at the first sight and approach of him, he should be distempered and fly from him; as one fighting cocke will do from an other, that hath eaten garlike: and the same happeneth between the weasell and the toade, the lyon and the cocke, the toade and the spider, and seuerall other creatures, of whom like enmities are reported.

All which are caused in them, not by secret instincts, and antipathies, and sympathies, whereof we can giue no account; (with the bare sound of which wordes, most men do pay themselues, without examining what they meane;) but by downe right materiall qualities, that are of contrary natures (as fire and water are) and are eyther begotten in them in their originall constitution, or are implanted in them afterwardes by their continuall foode, which nourishing them, changeth thier consti∣tution to its cōplexion. And I am persuaded this would goe so farre, that if one man were nourished continually with such meate (and greedily affected it) which an other had auersion from, there would naturally follow much dislike betweene them; vnlesse some superiour regard, should master this auersion of the sense. And I remember to haue seene two notable examples of it: the one in Spaine, of a Gentleman that had a horrour to garlike, who (though he was very subiect to the impressions of beauty) could neuer weane himselfe from an auersion he had settled him to a very handsome woman, that vsed to eate much garlike, though to winne him, she forebore the vse of that meate, which to her was the most sauory of all others. And the like I knew in Englād betweene two, whereof the one did extremely loue cheese, and the other as much hated it, and would fall into a strange agony, and be reduced (one would thinke) to the point of death, if by inaduertence or others tryall of him, he had swallowed neuer so litle, of what the other would haue quitted all meates else to liue vpon.

And not only such auersions, as spring from differences of comple∣xions in the constitutions of seuerall animals, do cause these effects of feare, and of trembling, and of flying from those that do make such impressions; but euen the seeing them angry and in fury doth the like: for such passions do alter the spirits; and they issuing from the body of the animal in passion, can not choose but be receiued by an other in a different manner, then if they were of an other temper. Then if the one kind be agreeable to their nature, the other must needes be displeasing. And this may be the reason why bees neuer sting such as are of a milde and gentle disposition; and will neuer agree with others, that are of a froward and angry nature. And the same one may obserue among dogges: and peraduenture, a mans fantasy may be raised to such a height of fury, that the fiercest beastes may be affraide to looke vpon him; and can not endure that those mastering spirits, which

streame out of the mans eyes should come into his; so much they distemper his fantasy: and therefore he will turne away from the man, and auoyde him. Which discourse may be cōfirmed by sundry examples of lyons and beares, that haue runne from angry and confident men, and the like. Since then, a man that in his naturall hew giueth no distast, doth so much affright fiercest beastes, when he putteth on his threatning lookes; it is no wonder, that beastes of a milder and softer nature, should haue feare of him settled in them, when they neuer saw him otherwise then angry, and working mischiefe to them. And since their brood do receiue from their parents, a nature easily moued vnto feare or anger, by the sight of what moued them, it is not strange, that at the first sight, they should tremble or swell, according as the inward motion of the spirits affordeth.

Now if this hath rendered the birdes in the wilde Islandes affraide of men, who otherwise would be indifferent to them, it is no maruayle to see more violent effects in the lambes auersion from the wolfe, or in the larkes from the hobbey; since they peraduenture haue ouer and aboue the hurt they vse to do them, a di••formity in their constitutions: and therefore, though a larke will flye as well from a man as from a hobbey, yet because there is one cause more for his dislike against the hobbey, then against the man (namely the di••formity of their constitutions) he will flye into the mans hand, to auoyde the hawkes talons.

Vnto some of these causes all antipathies may be reduced:5 1.355 and the like reason may be giuen for the sympathies we see betweene some creatures. The litle corporeities which issue from the one, haue such a conformity with the temper of the other, that it is thereby moued to ioyne it selfe vnto the body from whence they flow, and affecteth vnion with it in that way, as it receiueth the impression. If the smell do please it, the beast will alwayes be smelling at it: if the tast, nothing shall hinder it from feeding vpon it when it can reach it. The fishermen vpon the banke ouer against newfound land, do report that there flocketh about them a kind of bird, so greedy of the fishes liuers which they take there, as that to come at them and feede vpon them, they will suffer the men to take them in their handes; and will not fly away, as long as any of their desired meate is in their eye: whence the French men that fish there, do call them Happe foyes. The like power, a certaine worme hath with nigthingales.

And thus you see, how they are strong impressions vpon sense, and not any discourse of reason, that do gouerne beastes in their actions: for if their auoyding men, did proceed from any sagacity in their nature, surely they would exercise it, when they see that for a bitte of meate they incurre their destruction▪ and yet neyther the examples of their fellowes killed before their eyes in the same pursuite, nor the blowes which them∣selues do seele; can serue them for warning, where the sense is so strongly affected: but as soone as the blow that remoued them is passed, (if it misle

killing or laming them) and they be gotten on wing againe, they will returne to their prey as eagerly and as confidently, as if nothing were there to hinder them.

6 1.356This then being the true reason of all sympathy and antipathy, we can not admitt that any beastes should loue or hate one on other, for any other cause, then some of those we haue touched. All which are reduced to locall motion, and to materiall application of bodies of one nature, to bodies of an other; and are as well transmitted to their yong ones, as begotten in themselues: and as the satisfying of their sense, is more preualent in the Happe foyes, then the feare which from other groundes is begotten in their fantasy; and so maketh them approach to what the other would driue them from.

In like manner, any auersion of the fantasy may be mastered not only by a more powerfull agent vpon the present sense, but also by assue∣faction, and by bringing into the fantasy with pleasing circumstances that obiect which before was displeasing and affrightfull to it: as we see that all sortes of beastes or birdes, if they be taken yong may be tamed and will liue quietly together. Dogges that are vsed to hunt and kill deere, will liue frendly with one that is bred with them; and that fawne which otherwise would haue beene affraide of them, by such education groweth con••ident and playeth boldely with them. Of which we can no longer remaine in doubt, if we will beleeue the story of a tygar (accounted the cruellest beaste of all others) who being shutt vp with a deere, that had beene bred with him from a kidde, and from his being a whelpe; and no meate giuen him, vsed meanes to breake prison, when was halfe starued, rather then he would hurt his familiar frend. You will not suspect, that it was a morall cōsideration, which made him so kinde: but the deere had neuer come into his fantasy accompained with other circumstances, then of play or of warmth: and therefore hunger (which calleth only the species of meate out of the memory into the fantasy) would neuer bring the deere thither, for remedy of that passion.

And that which often happeneth to those men, in whom the fantasy only worketh, is not much vnlike to this: among whom I haue seene some frenetike persons, that if they be persuaded they are tyed, and can not stirre from the place where they are; they will lye still, and make great complaintes for their imprisonnement; and not goe a steepe, to reach any meate or drinke, that should lye in sight neere them, although they were neuer so much pressed with hunger or with thirste. The reason is euident, for the apprehension of being tyed, is so strong in their fantasy, that their fantasy can send no spirits into other partes of their body, whereby to cause motion.

And thus the deere was beholding to the tygars fantasy, not to his discourse of morall honesty, for his life. The like of this tygar and deere, is to be seene euery day in the tower of London▪ where a litle dogge, that was bred with a lyon from his birth, is so familiar and bold with them,

that they not only sleepe together, but sometimes the dogge will be angry with him, and will bite him; which the lyon neuer ressenteth from him, though any other dogge that is putt to him, he presently teareth in pieces.

And thus we plainely see, how it cometh about, that beastes may haue strange auersions from thinges, which are of an annoying or destructiue nature to them, euen at the first sight of them: and againe, may haue great likings of other thinges, in a manner contrary to their nature, without needing to allow them reason, whereby to discourse and iudge what is hurtfull to them, or to instruct the tygar we haue spoken of, or Androdus his lyon, the duties of frendshippe and of gratitude.

The longing markes which are often times seene in children,7 1.357 and do remaine with them all their life, seeme to be an offspring of the same roote or cause: but in truth, they proceed from an other, although of kinne to this: for the operation of the seede is passed, when these longing markes are imprinted; the child being then already formed and quickened; and they seeme to be made suddainely, as by the print of a seale. Therefore to render the cause of them, lett vs consider an other sympathy which is more plaine and common We see that the laughing of one man, will sett an other on laughing that seeth him laugh, though he know not the cause why the first man laugheth: and the like we see in yawning and stretching, which breedeth alike effect in the looker on. I haue heard of a man, that seing a rosted pigge, after our English fashion with the mouth gaping, could not shutt his owne mouth as long as he looked vpon the pigges▪ and of an other, that when he saw any man make a certaine motion with his hand, could not choose but he must make the same: so that, being a tyler by his trade, and hauing one hand imployed with holding his tooles, whiles he held himselfe with the other vpon the eaues of a house he was mending, a man standing below on the ground, made that signe or motion to him; wherevpon he quitted his holdfast to imitate that motion, and fell downe, in danger of breaking his necke.

All these effects, do proceed out of the action of the seene obiect vpon the fantasy of the looker on: which making the picture or like∣nesse of its owne action in the others fantasy, maketh his spirits runne to the same partes; and consequently, moue the same members, that is, do the same actions. And hence it is, that when we heare one speake with loue and tendernesse of an absent person, we are also inclined to loue that person, though we neuer saw him, nor heard of him before: and that whatsoeuer a good oratour deliuereth well, (that is, with a semblance of passion agreeable to his wordes) rayseth of its owne nature, like affection in the hearers: and that generally men learne and imitate (without designe) the customes and manners of the company they much haunt.

To apply this to our intent, it is easy to conceiue, that although the

childe in the mothers wōbe, can neyther see nor heare what the mother doth; neuerthelesse there can not passe any great or violent motion in the mothers body, whereof some effect doth not reach vnto the childe, which is then, one continuate piece with her: and the proper effect of motion or of trembling in one body, being to produce a like motion or a trembling in an other, (as we see in that ordinary example of tuned stringes, whereof the one is moued at the striking of the other, by reason of the stroake giuen to the ayre, which finding a moueable easily moued with a motion of the same tenour, communicateth motion vnto it) it followeth that the fantasy of the childe, being as it were well tuned to the fantasy of the mother, and the mothers fantasy making a speciall and a very quicke motion in her owne whole body, (as we see that suddaine passions doe) this motion or trembling of the mother, must needes cause the like motion and trembling in the childe, euen to the very swiftnesse of the mothers motion. Now as we see when one blusheth, the bloud cometh into his face, so the bloud runneth in the mother to a certaine place, where she is strucken by the thing longed for: and the like happening to the childe, the violence of that suddaine motion, dyeth the marke or print of the thing in the tender skinne of it: the bloud in some measure piercing the skinne, and not returning wholy into its naturall course: which effect is not permanent in the mother, because her skinne being harder, doth not receiue the bloud into it, but sendeth it backe againe, without receiuing a tincture from it.

Farre more easy is it, to discouer the secret cause of many antipathies or sympathies,8 1.358 which are seene in children, and endure with them the greatest part, if not the whole terme of their life, without any apparent ground for them: as, some do not loue cheese, others garlike, others duckes, others diuers other kindes of meate, which their parents loued well; and yet in token that this auersion is naturall vnto them, and not arising from some dislike accidentally taken and imprinted in their fantasy, they will be much harmed if they chance to eate any such meate; though by the much disguising it, they neither know, nor so much as suspect they haue done so. The story of the Lady Hēnage (who was of the bedchamber to the late Queene Elizabeth) that had her checke blistered by laying a rose vpon it whiles she was a sleepe, to try if her antipathy against that flower, were so great as she vsed to pretend, is famous in the Court of England. A kinsman of mine, whiles he was a childe, had like to haue dyed of drought, before his nurse came to vnderstand, that he had an antipathy against beere or wine; vntill the tender nature in him, before he could speake, taught him to make earnest signes for water, that by accident he saw; the greedy drinking of which, cured presently his long languishing and pining sickenesse: and such examples are very frequent.

The cause of these effects many times is, that their mothers, vpon their first suppression of their vsuall euacuations, (by reason of their

being with child) toke some strong dislike to such thinges, their stomackes being then oppressed by vnnaturall humours, which ouer∣flow their bodies vpon such retentions; and which make them often∣times sicke and prone to vomiting, (especially in the mornings, whiles they are fasting) and sometimes to desire earnestly (which they call longing) to feede vpon some vnwholesome, as well as some particular wholesome thinges; and otherwhiles, to take auersion against meates, which at other seasons they affected well. Now the child being nourished by the so imbued bloud of the mother, no wonder if it taketh affections or dislikes, conformable to those which at that present raigne in the mother: the which for the most part vsed to be purged away, or are ouer∣whelmed by the mastering qualities of better aliments succeding: but if by some mischance, they become too much grafted in the childes stomacke, or in some other part, through which the masse of bloud must passe; then the child getteth an auersion from those meates: and we often see, that people retaine a strong conuersion to such meates or drinkes, as their mothers affected much or longed for, whiles they bred child of them.

And thus we will leaue this particular; adding only one note, why there are more persōs generally, who haue antipathy against cheese, thē against any one sort of meate besides whatsoeuer. A principal reason of which symptome (where the precedent one hath not place) I cōceiue to be, that their nurses proued with child, whiles they gaue them sucke for I haue by experience found it to haue beene so, in as many as I haue made inquiry into. And it is very conformable to reason; for the nurses milke, curdling in her brest vpon her breeding of child, and becoming very offensiue to the childes tender stomacke, (whose being sicke obligeth the parents to change the nurse, though peraduenture they know nothing of the true reason that maketh her milke vnnaturall) he hath a dislike of cheese (which is strong curdled milke) euer after settled in him; as people that haue once surfeted violently of any meate, seldome arriue to brooke it againe.

Now,9 1.359 as concerning those animals who lay vp in store for winter, and seeme therein to exercise a rationall prouidence; who seeth not, that it is the same humour, which moueth rich misers to heape vp wealth, euen at their last gaspe, when they haue no child nor frend to giue it to, nor think of making any body their heires? Which actions because they haue no reason in them, are to be imputed to the passion or motion of the materiall appetite. In the doing of them, these steppes may be obserued; first the obiect presenting it selfe to the eye, prouoketh loue and desire of it; especially if it be ioyned with the memo••y of former want: then, this desire stirreth vp the animal (after he hath fedde himselfe) to gather into the place of his chiefe residence, as much of that desired obiect as he meeteth withall; and whensoeuer his hunger returning, bringeth backe into his fantasy the memory of his meate, it being ioyned with the

memory of that place (if he be absent from it) he presently repaireth thither, for reliefe of what presseth him: (and thus dogges wh••n they are hungry, do rake for bones they had hidden when ••heir bellies were full.) Now if this foode, gathered by such prouidence (which is nothing else, but the conformity of it, working vpon him by his sense) and lay••d vp in the place, where the owner of it resideth, (as the corne is, which the auntes gather in summer) be easily portable, he will carry it abroad wi••h him the first time he stirreth after a long keeping in; for then nothing worketh so powerfully in his fantasy, as his store; and he will not easily part from it, though other circumstances inuite him abroad. From hence it proceedeth, that when a faire day cometh after long foule weather, the auntes, who all that while kept close in their dennes with their corne lying by them, do then come abroad into the sunne, and do carry their graine along with them: or peraduenture it happeneth, because the precedent wett weather, hath made it grow hoat, or musty, or otherwise offensiue within; and therefore they carry it out, as soone as themselues dare peepe abroad; which is, when the faire weather, and heate of the day, inuiteth them out into the open ayre: and before night that they returne into their holes, the offensiue vapours of the corne are exhaled and dryed vp, and moue their fantasies no longer to auersion: wherevpon they carry it backe againe; hauing then nothing but their long contracted loue vnto it to worke vpon them. The like whereof men doing by discourse, to ayre their corne, and to keepe it sweete, and the same effect following herein, they will presently haue it, that this is done by the auntes, for the same reason, and by designe. Then the moysture of the earth swelling the graine, and consequently, making it beginne to shoote at the endes (as we declared, when we spoke of the generation of plantes; and as we see in the moystening of corne to make malt of it) those litle creatures, finding that part of it more tender and iuicy then the rest, do nibble vpon it there, and do feede themselues first with that, which consequently hindereth the groweth of the corne. And here againe, men will contend that this must be done by prouidence and discourse, to preuent that their store should not grow out of their reach, and changing nature, become vselesse to them in their neede.

10 1.360To conclude, the foreknowing of beastes is nothing else, but their timely receiuing impressions, from the first degrees of mutation in thinges without them; which degrees are almost imperceptible to vs, because our fantasies and spirits, h••ue otherwise such violent agitations, more then theirs, which hinder them from discerning gentle impressiōs vpon them. If you be at sea, after along calme, a while before a gaile bloweth to fill your sailes, or to be discernable by your sense in quality of wind, you shall perceiue the sea beginne to wrinkle his smooth face that way the wind will come; which is so infaillible a signe that a gaile will come f••om that coast, as marriners immediately fall to trimming their sailes accordingly; and vsually, before they can haue done, the wind is

with them: shall we therefore say that the sea hath a prouidence to foresee which way the wind will blow? Or that the cornes vpon our toes, or calluses, or broken bones, or ioyntes that haue beene dislocated, haue discourse, and can foretell the weather? It is nothing else, but that the wind rising by degrees, the smooth sea is capable of a change by it, before we can feele it: and that the ayre, being changed by the forerunners of worse weather, worketh vpon the crasiest partes of our body, when the others feele not so small a change: so beastes are more sensible then we (for they haue lesse to distract them) of the first degrees of a changing weather: and that mutation of the ayre without them, maketh some change within them, which they expresse, by some out∣ward actions or gestures.

Now they who obserue, how such mutations and actions are constantly in them, before such or such weather, do thinke they know beforehand, that raine (for example) or wind, or drought is coming, according to the seuerall signes they haue marked in them: which proceedeth out of the narrownesse of their discourse, that maketh them resort to the same causes, whensoeuer they meere with like effects: and so they conceiue, that thinges must needes passe in beastes, after the same tenour, as they do in mē. And this is a generall, and maine errour, running through all the conceptions of mankind, vnlesse great heede be taken to preuent it, that what subiect soeuer they speculate vpon, whether it be of substances, that haue a superiour nature to theirs, or whether it be of creatures inferiour to them, they are still apt to bring them to their owne standard, and to frame such conceptions of them, as they would do of themselues: as when they will haue Angels discourse, and moue, and be in a place, in such sort as is naturall to men; or when they will haue beastes rationate and vnderstand, vpon their obseruing some orderly actions performed by them, which in men would proceed from discourse and reason. And this dangerous rocke (against which many fine conceptions do suffer shipperack••) whosoeuer studyeth truth, must haue a maine caution to auoyde.

Sed nos immensum spatijs confecimus aequor: Etiam tempus equum fumantia soluere colla.

Notes

• 1 1.1

  Quantity is the first, and most obuious affec∣tion of a body.
• 2 1.2

  Wordes do not expresse thinges as they are in them∣selues, but one∣ly as they are painted in the mindes of men.
• 3 1.3

  The first error that may arise from hence; which is a mul∣tiplying of things, where ••o such mul∣tiplication is really found.
• 4 1.4

  A second error▪ the conceiuing of many di∣stinct thinges as really one thing.
• 5 1.5

  Great care to be taken to auoyde the er∣rors, which may arise from our manner of vnderstanding thinges.
• 6 1.6

  Two sorts of wordes to ex∣presse our no∣tions; the one common to all men, the other proper to schollers.
• 7 1.7

  Great errors arise by wre∣sting wordes from theire common mea∣ning to ex∣presse a more particular or studied notion.
• 1 1.8

  Wee must know the vulgar and common no∣tion of Quan∣tity that wee may vnderstand the nature of it.
• 2 1.9

  Extension or diuisibility is the common notion of Quantity.
• 3 1.10

  Partes of Quan∣tity are not actually in theire whole.
• 4 1.11

  If partes were actually in theire whole, Quātity would bee composed of indiuisibles.
• 5 1.12

  Quantity can∣not be com∣posed of indi∣uisibles.
• 6 1.13

  An obiection to prooue that partes are actually in Quantity; with a declaration of the mistake from whence it procedeth.
• 7 1.14

  The solution of the former obiection: and that sense can∣not discerne whether one part be distin∣guished from another, or no.
• * 1.15

  Chap. 1. §. 2.3.
• 8 1.16

  An enumera∣tion of the se∣uerall specieses of Quantity, which confir∣meth that the essence of it is diuisibility.
• 1 1.17

  What is meant by Rarity and Density.
• 2 1.18

  It is euident that some bo∣dies are rare and others dense; though obsu••e, how they are such.
• 3 1.19

  A breife enu∣meration of the seuerall proper∣ties belonging to rare and dense bodies.
• 4 1.20

  The opinion of those Philoso∣phers declared, who putt rarity to consist in an actuall diuision of a body into litle partes.
• 5 1.21

  The former opinion re∣iected, and the ground of theire error disco••ered.
• 6 1.22

  The opinion of those Philoso∣phers related, who putt rarity to consist in the mixtion of vacuity among bodies.
• 7 1.23

  The opinion of vacuities refu∣ted.
• * 1.24

  Dialog. 1. del Mouim. pag. 81.
• * 1.25

  Archimed. Promot.
• 8 1.26

  Rarity and Dé∣sity consist in the seuerall pro∣portions, which Quantity hath to its substance.
• 9 1.27

  All must ad∣mitt in Physi∣call bodies, a Metaphysicall composition.
• 1 1.28

  The notions of density and ra∣rity haue a la∣titude capable of infinite va∣riety.
• 2 1.29

  How moyst∣nesse and dry∣nesse are begot∣ten in dense bodies.
• 3 1.30

  How moyst∣nesse and dry∣nesse are begot∣ten in rare bo∣dies.
• 4 1.31

  Heate is a pro∣perty of rare bodies, and cold of dense ones.
• 5 1.32

  Of the two dense bodies, the lesse dense is more cold: but of the two rare ones the lesse rare is lesse hoat.
• 6 1.33

  The extreme dense body is more dry, then the extreme rare one.
• 7 1.34

  There are but foure simple bodies: and these are right∣ly named Ele∣ments.
• 8 1.35

  The Author doth nott de∣termine whe∣ther euery ele∣ment doth comprehend vnder its name one only low∣est species, or many: nor whether any of them be found pure.
• 1 1.36

  The first ope∣ration of the Elements is di∣uision, out of which resulteth locall motion.
• 2 1.37

  What place is both notional∣ly, and really.
• 3 1.38

  Locall motion is that diuision, whereby a body changeth its place.
• 4 1.39

  The nature of quantity of it selfe is suffi∣cient to vnite a body to its place.
• 5 1.40

  All operations amongst bo∣dies, are eyther locall motion, or such as fol∣low out of lo∣call motion.
• 6 1.41

  Earth compa∣red to water in actiuity.
• * 1.42

  §▪ 6.
• 7 1.43

  The manner whereby fire getteth into fewel: prooueth that it exc••e∣deth earth in actiuity.
• 8 1.44

  The same is prooued by the manner, where∣by fire cometh out of fewell and worketh vpon other bodies.
• 1 1.45

  In what sense the Author re∣iecteth quali∣ties.
• 2 1.46

  In what sense the Author doth admitt of qualities.
• 3 1.47

  Fiue arguments proposed to proue that light is not a body.
• 4 1.48

  The two first reasōs to proue light to be a body are, the resemblance it hath with fire; and because if it were a quality, it would al∣wayes produce an equall to it selfe.
• 5 1.49

  The third rea∣son; because if we imagine to our selues the substance of fire to be ra∣rifyed, it will haue the same appearances which light hath.
• 6 1.50

  The fourth rea∣son, from the manner of the generation and corruption of light, which agreeth with fire.
• 7 1.51

  The fifth rea∣son; because such properties belong to light as agree only vnto bodies.
• 1 1.52

  That all light is hoat and apt to heate.
• 2 1.53

  The reason why our bodies for the most part do not feele the heate of pure light.
• 3 1.54

  The experience of burning-glasses, and of soultry gloomy weather proue light to be fire.
• 4 1.55

  Philosophers ought not to iudge of thinges by the rules of vulgar people.
• 5 1.56

  The different names of light and fire pro∣ceede from different no∣tions of the same substance.
• 6 1.57

  The reason why many times fire, and heate are depriued of light.
• 7 1.58

  What becometh of the body of light, when it dyeth.
• 8 1.59

  An experiment of some who pretend, that light may be precipitated into pouder.
• 9 1.60

  The Authors opinion con∣cerning lam∣pes, pretended to haue been found in tom∣bes, with in∣consumptible lights.
• 1 1.61

  Light is not really in euery part of the roome it en∣lighteneth, not filleth entirely any sensible part of it, though it seeme to vs to do so.
• 2 1.62

  The least sensi∣ble poynt of a diaphanous body, hath roome suffi∣cient to con∣taine both ayre and light, to∣gether with a multitude of beames issuing from seuerall lights, without penetrating one an other.
• * 1.63

  Willebrord Snell.
• 3 1.64

  That light doth not en∣light en any roome in an instant; and that the great celerity of its motion doth make it imper∣ceptible to our senses.
• 4 1.65

  The reason why the motion of light, is not discerned co∣ming towardes vs▪ and that there is some reall tardity in it.
• 5 1.66

  The planets are not certainely euer in that place where they appeare to be.
• 6 1.67

  The reason why light being a body, doth not by its mo∣tion shatter other bodies into pieces.
• 7 1.68

  The reason why the body of lighlt is ne∣uer perceiued to be fanned by the wind.
• 8 1.69

  The reasons, for and against lights being a body, compa∣red together.
• 9 1.70

  A summary re∣petition of the reasons, which proue that light is fire.
• 1 1.71

  No locall motion can be performed without succes∣sion.
• 2 1.72

  Time is the common mea∣sure of all succession.
• 3 1.73

  What velocity is, and that it can not be infinite.
• 4 1.74

  No force so litle, that is not able to moue the greatest weight imaginable.
• 5 1.75

  The chiefe principle of Mechanikes deduced out of the former discourse.
• 6 1.76

  No moueable can passe from rest to any determinate degree of velo∣city, or from a lesser degree to a greater, without passing through all the interme∣diate degrees, which are below the ob∣tained degree.
• 7 1.77

  The condi∣tions which helpe to motiō, in the mouea∣ble are three, in the medium, one.
• * 1.78

  Dialog. 1. of Motion.
• 8 1.79

  No body hath any intrinsecall vertue to moue it selfe towardes any determi∣nate part of the vniuerse.
• 9 1.80

  The encrease of motion is alwayse made in the propor∣tion of the odde numbers.
• 10 1.81

  No motion can encrease for euer without coming to a periode.
• 11 1.82

  Certaine problemes resolued concerning the proportion of some mouing Agents com∣pared to their effects.
• 12 1.83

  When a mo∣ueable cometh to rest, the motion doth decrease accor∣ding to the rules of en∣crease.
• 1 1.84

  Those motions are called naturall which haue constant causes; and those violent which are contrary to them.
• 2 1.85

  The first and most generall operation of the sunne, is the making and raising of atomes.
• 3 1.86

  The light rebounding from the earth with atomes, causeth two streames in the ayre; the one ascending the other descēding; and both of them in a perpen∣dicular line.
• 4 1.87

  A dense body placed in the ayre betweene the ascending and descending streame, must needes descend.
• 5 1.88

  A more parti∣cular explicatiō of all the former doctri∣ne touching grauity.
• 6 1.89

  Grauity and leuity do not signify an intrinsecall inclination to such a motion in the bodies themselues which are termed heauy and light.
• 7 1.90

  The more dēse a body is, the more swiftly it descendeth.
• 8 1.91

  The velocity of bodies des∣cending doth not encrease in proportion to the difference that may be betweene their seuerall den∣sities.
• 9 1.92

  More or lesse grauity doth produce a swifter or a slower descen∣ding of a heauy body. Aristotles argument to disproue mo∣tion in vacuo, is made good.
• 10 1.93

  The reason why att the inferiour quarter of a circle, a body doth descend faster by the arch of that quarter, then by the chord ••f it.
• 1 1.94

  The first obiection answered; why a hollow body descendeth slower then a solide one.
• 2 1.95

  The second obiection answered, and the reasons shewne, why atomes do continually ouertake the descending dense body.
• 3 1.96

  A curious question left vndecided.
• 4 1.97

  The fourth obiection answered; why the descent of the same heauy bodies, is equall in so great inequality of the atomes which cause it.
• 5 1.98

  The reason, why the shelter of a thicke body doth not hinder the descent of that which is vnder▪ ti.
• 6 1.99

  The reason why some bodies sinke, others swimme.
• 7 1.100

  The fifth obiection answered concerning the descending of heauy bodies in streames.
• 8 1.101

  The sixt obiection answered: and that all heauy elements do weigh in their owne spheres.
• 9 1.102

  The 7^th obiection answered: and the reason why we do not feele the course of the ayre and atomes that beat cōtinually vpon vs.
• 10 1.103

  How in the same body, grauity may be greater then density, and density then grauity; though they be the same thing.
• 11 1.104

  The opinion of grauities being an intrinsecall inclination of a body to the center, refuted by reason.
• 12 1.105

  The same opinion refuted by seuerall experiences.
• 1 1.106

  The state of the question touching the cause of violent motion.
• 2 1.107

  That the medium is the onely cause, which continueth ••••••lent motiō.
• 3 1.108

  A further explication of the former doctrine.
• 4 1.109

  That the ayre hath strength enough to continue violent motion in a moueable. Dial. 1. of motion pag. 98.
• 5 1.110

  An answere to the first obiection; that ayre is not apt to conserue motion. And how violent mo•••• cometh to cease.
• 6 1.111

  An answere to the second obiection that the ayre hath no power ouer heauy bodies.
• 7 1.112

  An answere to the third obiection, that an arrow should fly faster broadwayes then lōgwayes▪
• 1 1.113

  That reflexion is a kind of violēt motion.
• 2 1.114

  Reflexion is made at equall angles.
• 3 1.115

  The causes and properties of vndulation.
• 4 1.116

  Refraction at the entrance into the reflectent body is towardes the perpendicular; at the going out it is from it; when the secōd superficios is parallel to the first.
• 5 1.117

  A refutation of Monsieur Des Cartes his explication of refraction.
• 6 1.118

  An answere to the arguments brought in fauour of Monsieur Des Cartes his opinion.
• 7 1.119

  The true cause of refraction of light both at its entrance, and att its going out from the reflecting body.
• 8 1.120

  A generall rule to know the nature of reflexions and refractions in all sortes of surfaces.
• 9 1.121

  A body of greater partes and greater pores, maketh a greater refraction then one of lesser partes and lesser pores.
• 10 1.122

  A cōfirmation of the former doctrine, out of the nature of bodies that refract light.
• 1 1.123

  The cōnexion of this chapter with the rest, and the Authors intent in it,
• 2 1.124

  That there is a least cise of bodies, and that this least cise is found in fire.
• 3 1.125

  The first coniunction of partes is in bodies of least cise; and it is made by the force of Quantity.
• 4 1.126

  The second sort of coniunction is cōpactednesse in simple Elements, and it proceedeth from density.
• 5 1.127

  The third coniunction is of partes of different Elements, and it proceedeth from quantity and density together.
• 6 1.128

  The reason why liquide bodies do easily ioyne together; and dry ones difficultly.
• 7 1.129

  That no two hard bodies can touch one an other immediately.
• 8 1.130

  How mixed bodies ar•• framed in generall.
• 9 1.131

  The cause of the seuerall degrees of solidity in mixed bodies.
• 10 1.132

  The rule wherevnto are reduced all the seuerall combinations of Elements in compounding of mixed bodies.
• 11 1.133

  Earth and water are the basis of all permanent mixed bodies.
• 12 1.134

  What kind of bodies those are where water is the basis, and earth the predominant Element ouer the other two.
• 13 1.135

  Of those bodies, where water being the basis ayre is the predominant Element.
• 14 1.136

  What kind of bodies result, where water is the basis and fire the predominant Element.
• 15 1.137

  Of those bodies, where water is in excesse, it alone being both the basis, and the predominant Element.
• 16 1.138

  Of those bodies where Earth alone is the basis, and also the predominant in excesse ouer the other thre•• Elements.
• 17 1.139

  Of those bodies where Earth is the basis, and water the predomin••t Element ouer the other two.
• 18 1.140

  Of those bodies, where earth being the basis ayre is the predominant.
• 19 1.141

  Of those bodies, where Earth being the basis, fire is the predominant.
• 20 1.142

  All the second qualities of mixed bodies, arise from seuerall combinations of the first qualities: and are att last resolued into seuerall degrees of rarity and density.
• 21 1.143

  That in the planets and starres, there is a like variet•• of mixed bodies caused by light as here vpon Earth.
• 22 1.144

  In what māner the Elements do worke vpon one an other, in the compositiō of mixed bodies: and in particular fire which is the most actiue.
• 23 1.145

  A particular declaration touching the generation of mettalls.
• 1 1.146

  Why some bodies are brittle, and others tough, or apt to withstand outward violence, the first instrument to dissolue mixed bodies.
• 2 1.147

  How outward violence doth worke vpon the most compacted bodies.
• 3 1.148

  The seuerall effects of fire, the second and chiefest instru∣mēt to dissolue all cōpounded bodies.
• 4 1.149

  The reason why some bodies are not dissolued by fire.
• 5 1.150

  The reason why fire molteth gold, but can not consume it.
• 6 1.151

  Why leade is easily, consumed and calcined by fire.
• 7 1.152

  Why and how some bodies are diuided by fire into spirits, waters, oyles, saltes, and earth. And what those partes are.
• 8 1.153

  How water the third i••strumēt to dissolue bodies, dissolueth calx into salt; and so into Terra damnata.
• 9 1.154

  How water mingled with salt, becometh a most power∣full Agent to dissolue other bodies.
• 10 1.155

  How putre∣factiō is caused.
• 1 1.156

  What is the sphere of actiuity in corporeall Agents.
• 2 1.157

  The reason why no body can worke in distance.
• 3 1.158

  An obiection answered against the manner of explicating the former axiom••.
• 4 1.159

  Of reaction and first in pure locall motion, that each Agēt must suffer in acting and act•• in suffering.
• 5 1.160

  The former doctrine applyed to other locall motions designed by particular names. And that Suisseths argument is of no force against this way of doctrine.
• 6 1.161

  Why some notions do admitt of intension and Remission; and others do not.
• 7 1.162

  That in euery part of our habitable world; all the foure Elemēts, are found pure in small atomes; but not in any great bulke.
• 1 1.163

  The Authors intent in this and the following chapters.
• * 1.164

  M^r. Thomas White.
• 2 1.165

  That bodies may be rarifyed, both by outward and inward heat; and how this is performed.
• 3 1.166

  Of the great effects of Rarefaction.
• 4 1.167

  The first manner of condensation, by heate.
• 5 1.168

  The second manner of condensation by cold.
• 6 1.169

  That yce is not water rarifyed but condensed.
• 7 1.170

  How wind, snow, and haile are made; and wind by raine allayed.
• 8 1.171

  How partes of the same or diuers bodies, are ioyned more strongly together by condensation.
• 9 1.172

  Vacuites can not be the reason, why water impregnated to the full with one kind of salt, will notwithstāding receiue more of an other.
• 10 1.173

  The true reason of the former effect.
• 11 1.174

  The reason why bodies of the same nature do ioyne more easily together then others.
• 1 1.175

  What Attractiō is, and from whence it proceedeth.
• 2 1.176

  The true sense of the Maxime, that Nature abhorreth from vacuity.
• 3 1.177

  The true reas•• of attraction.
• 4 1.178

  Water may be brought by the force of attraction to what height soeuer.
• 5 1.179

  The doctrine touching the attraction of water in syphons.
• 6 1.180

  That the syphon doth not proue, water to weigh in its owne orbe.
• 7 1.181

  Concerning attraction caused by fire.
• 8 1.182

  Concerning attractiō made by vertue of hoat bodies, amulets etc.
• 9 1.183

  The naturall reason giuen for diuers operations, esteemed by some to be magicall.
• 1 1.184

  What is Filtration; and how it is effected.
• 2 1.185

  What causeth the water in filtration to ascend.
• 3 1.186

  Why the filter will not droppe vnlesse the labell hang lower then the water.
• 4 1.187

  Of the motion of Restitution: and why some bodies stand bent, others not.
• 5 1.188

  Why some bodies returne onely in part to their natural figure; others entirely.
• 6 1.189

  Concerning the nature of those bodies which do shrinke and stretch.
• 7 1.190

  How great and wonderfull effects, proceed from small, plaine, and simple principles.
• 8 1.191

  Concerning Electricall attraction, and the causes of it.
• 9 1.192

  Cabeus his opinion refuted concerning the cause of Electricall mot••ons.
• 1 1.193

  The extreme heat of the sunne vnder the zodiacke, draweth a streame of ayre from each Pole into the torride zone.
• * 1.194

  Chap. 18. §. 7.
• 2 1.195

  The atomes of these two streames coming together are apt to incor∣porate with one an other.
• 3 1.196

  By the meeting and mingling together of these streames att the Equator, diuers riuolets of atomes of each Pole, are continuat••d from one Pole to the other.
• 4 1.197

  Of these ato∣mes incorpora∣ted with some fitt matter in the bowels of the earth, is made a stone.
• 5 1.198

  This stone wor∣keth by emana∣tions, ioyned with agreeing streames that meete them in the ayre; and in fine it is a loadestone.
• 6 1.199

  A methode for making expe∣riences vpon any subiect.
• 7 1.200

  The Loade∣stones gene∣ratiō by atomes flowing from both Poles, is confirmed by experiments obserued in the stone it selfe.
• 8 1.201

  Experiments to proue that the loadestone worketh by emanations meeting with agreeing strea∣mes.
• 1 1.202

  The operations of the loade∣stone are wrought by bodies and not by qualities.
• 2 1.203

  Obiections against the former positiō answered.
• 3 1.204

  The loadestone is imbued with his vertue from an other body.
• 4 1.205

  The vertue of the loadestone is a double, and not one simple vertue.
• 5 1.206

  The vettue of the loadestone worketh more strongly in the poles of it, then in any other part.
• 6 1.207

  The loadestone sendeth forth its emanations spherically.

  Which are of two kindes: and each kind is strongest in that hemisphe∣re, through whose polary partes they issue out.
• 7 1.208

  Putting two loadestones within the sphere of one an other, euery part of one loadestone, doth not agree with euery part of the other loadestone.
• 8 1.209

  Cōcerning the declination and other respects of a needle, towardes the loadestone is toucheth.
• 9 1.210

  The vertue of the loadestone goeth from end to end in lines almost parallele to the axis.
• 10 1.211

  The vertue of the loadestone is not perfectly sphericall though the stone be such.
• 11 1.212

  The intention of nature in all the operations of the loade∣stone, is to make an vnion betwixt the attractiue and attracted bodies.
• 12 1.213

  The maine globe of the earth is not a loadestone.
• 13 1.214

  The loadestone is generated in all partes or climats of the earth.
• 14 1.215

  The confor∣mity betwixt the two motiōs of magnetike thinges, and of heauy thinges.
• 1 1.216

  Which is the North, and which the South Pole of a loadestone.
• 2 1.217

  Whether any bodies besides magnetike ones be attra∣ctiue.
• 3 1.218

  Whether an iron placed ••erpēdicularly towardes the earth doth gett a magneticall vertue of poin∣ting towardes the north, or towardes the south in that end that lyeth downewardes.
• 4 1.219

  Why loadesto∣nes affect iron better then one an other.
• 5 1.220

  Gilberts reason refuted tou∣ching a capped loadestone, that taketh vp more iron then one not capped; and an iron impregnated that in some case draweth more strongly then the stone it selfe.
• 6 1.221

  Galileus his opinion tou∣ching the for∣mer effects, refuted.
• 7 1.222

  The Authors solution to the former questions.
• 8 1.223

  The reasō why in the former case, a lesser loadestone doth draw the interiacent irō frō the greater.
• 9 1.224

  Why the varia∣tion of a tou∣ched needle frō the north, is greater, the neerer you go to the Pole.
• 10 1.225

  Whether in the same part of the world a touched needle may att one time vary more frō the north, and att an other time lesse.
• 11 1.226

  The whole doctrine of the loadestone summed vp in short.
• 1 1.227

  The connexion of the follo∣wing Chapters with the prece∣dent ones.
• 2 1.228

  Concerning seuerall cōpo∣sitions of mi∣xed bodies.
• 3 1.229

  Two sortes of liuing creatu∣res.
• 4 1.230

  An engine to expresse the first sort of liuing creatu∣res.
• 5 1.231

  An other engi∣ne by which may be expres∣sed the second sort of liuing creatures.
• 6 1.232

  The two for∣mer engines and some other comparisons applyed to expresse the two seuerall sortes of liuing creatures.
• 7 1.233

  How plantes are framed.
• 8 1.234

  How sensitiue creatures are formed.
• 1 1.235

  The opinion that the seede containeth formally euery part of the parent.
• 2 1.236

  The former opinion reie∣cted.
• 3 1.237

  The Authors opinion of this question.
• 4 1.238

  Their opinion refuted, who hold that euery thing contai∣neth formally all thinges.
• 5 1.239

  The Authors opinion con∣cerning the generation of Animals de∣clared, and confirmed.
• 6 1.240

  That one sub∣stance is chan∣ged into an other.
• 7 1.241

  Concerning the hatching of chickens, and the generation of other Animals.
• 8 1.242

  From whence it happeneth that the defi∣ciences, or excrescences of the parents body are often seene in their children.
• 9 1.243

  The difference between the Authors opi∣nion, and the former one.
• 10 1.244

  That the hart is imbued with the generall specifike ver∣tues of the whole body; whereby is confirmed the doctrine of the two former paragraphes.
• 11 1.245

  That the hart is the first part generated in a liuing creature.
• 1 1.246

  That the figure of an Animal is produced by ordinarie secō•• causes, as well as any other corporeall effect.
• 2 1.247

  That the seue∣rall figures of bodies proceed from a defect in one of the three dimen∣sions, caused by the concurrāce of accidentall causes.
• 3 1.248

  The former doctrine is confirmed by seuerall instan∣ces.
• 4 1.249

  The same do∣ctrine applyed to Plants.
• 5 1.250

  The same do∣ctrine declared in leafes of trees.
• 6 1.251

  The same applyed to the bodies of Animals.
• 7 1.252

  In what sense the Author doth admitt of Vis forma∣trix.
• 1 1.253

  Fromwhence doth proceed the primary motion and growth in Plantes.
• 2 1.254

  Monsieur des Cartes his opi∣nion touching the motion of the hart.
• 3 1.255

  The former opinion reie∣cted.
• 4 1.256

  The Authors opinion con∣cerning the motion of the hart.
• 5 1.257

  The motion of the hart depen∣deth originally of its fibers irrigated by bloud.
• 6 1.258

  An obiection answered against the former doctri∣ne.
• 7 1.259

  The circulatiō of the bloud, and other effects that follow the mo∣tion of the hart.
• 8 1.260

  Of Nutrition.
• 9 1.261

  Of Augmenta∣tion.
• 10 1.262

  Of death and sicknesse.
• 1 1.263

  The cōnexion of the subse∣quent chapters with the prece∣dent.
• 2 1.264

  Of the senses and sensible qualities in ge∣nerall. And of the end for which they serue.
• 3 1.265

  Of the sense of touching: and that both it and its qualities are bodies.
• 4 1.266

  Of the tast and its qualities: that they are bodies.
• 5 1.267

  That the smell and its qualities are reall bodies.
• 6 1.268

  Of the confor∣mity betwixt the two senses of smelling and tasting.
• 7 1.269

  The reasō why the sense of smelling is not so perfect in man as in bea∣stes: with a won∣derfull historie of a man who could wind a sent as well a•• any beast.
• 1 1.270

  Of the sense of hearing: and that sound is purely motiō.
• 2 1.271

  Of diuers artes belonging to the sense of hearing: all which confirme that sound is nothing but motion.
• 3 1.272

  The same is confirmed by the effects caused by great noises.
• 4 1.273

  That solide bo∣dies may con∣ueye the mo∣tion of the ayre or sound to the organe of hea∣ring.
• 5 1.274

  Where the mo∣tion is inter∣rupted there is no sound.
• 6 1.275

  That not only the motion of the ayre but all other motions coming to our eares make sounds.
• 7 1.276

  How one sense may supply the want of an other.
• 8 1.277

  Of one who could discerne soūds of words with his eyes.
• 9 1.278

  Diuers reasons to proue sound to be nothing els but a motiō of some reall body.
• 1 1.279

  That Colours are nothing but light mingled with dark∣nesse; or the disposition off a bodies super∣ficies apt to re∣flect light so mingled.
• 2 1.280

  Cōcerning the disposition of those bodies which produce white or blacke coulours.
• 3 1.281

  The former doctrine cōfir∣med by Aristo∣t••les authority, reason, and ex∣perience.
• 4 1.282

  How the diuer∣sity of cou∣lours doe fol∣low out of va∣rious degrees of rarity and den∣sity.
• 5 1.283

  Why some bo∣dies are Dia∣phanous others opacous.
• 6 1.284

  The former doctrine of coulours cōfir∣med by the ge∣neration of white and Blacke in bo∣dies.
• 1 1.285

  Apparitions of coulours through a prisme or triāgular glasse are of two sortes.
• 2 1.286

  The seuerall parts of the obiect make se∣uerall angles at their entrance into the prisme.
• 3 1.287

  The reason why some times the same obiect appeareth throwgh the prisme in two places: and in one place more li∣uely, in the other place more dimmes.
• 4 1.288

  The reason of the various colours that appeare in looking throwgh a prisme.
• 5 1.289

  The reason̄ why the prisme in one position, may make the colours appeare quite contrary to what they did, when it was in an other posi∣tion.
• 6 1.290

  The reason of the various colours in ge∣nerall by pure light passing through a prisme.
• 7 1.291

  Vpon what side euery colour appeareth that is made by pure light passing through a prisme.
• 1 1.292

  The reason of each seuerall colour in particular caused by light passing through a prisme.
• 2 1.293

  A difficult pro∣bleme resolued touching the prisme.
• 3 1.294

  Of the raine∣bow, and how by the colour of any body wee may know the compositiō of the body it selfe.
• 4 1.295

  That all the sēsible qualities are reall bodies resulting out of seuerall mixtures of rarity and den∣sity.
• 5 1.296

  Why the senses are only fiue in number: with a conclusion of all the former doctrine con∣cerning them.
• 1 1.297

  Monsieur des Cartes his opinion touching sensation.
• 2 1.298

  The Authors opinion touching sensa∣tion.
• 3 1.299

  Reasons to persuade the authors opiniō.
• 4 1.300

  That vitall spiritts are the immediate instruments of sensation by conueying sen∣sible qualities to the braine.
• 5 1.301

  How sound is conueyed to the braine by vitall spirits.
• 6 1.302

  How colours are conueyed to the braine by vitall spirits.
• 7 1.303

  Reasōs against Monsieur des Cartes his opinion.
• 8 1.304

  That the symp∣tomes of the palsie do no way confi••me Monsieur des Cartes his opinion.
• 9 1.305

  That Monsieur des Cartes his opiniō, can not giue a good account, how thinges are cō∣serued in the memory.
• 1 1.306

  How thinges are cōserued in the memory.
• 2 1.307

  How thinges cōserued in the memory are brought backe in to the fan∣tasie.
• 3 1.308

  A Confirmatiō of the former doctrine.
• 4 1.309

  How thinges renewed in the fantasie, retur∣ne with the same circum∣stāces that they had at first.
• 5 1.310

  How the me∣mory of thinges past is lost, or con∣founded: and how it is repaired againe.
• 1 1.311

  Of what matter the braine is composed.
• 2 1.312

  What is volun∣tary motion.
• 3 1.313

  What those powers are which are called naturall faculties.
• 4 1.314

  How the attrac∣tiue and secre∣tiue faculties, worke.
• 5 1.315

  Concerning the concocti•••• faculty.
• 6 1.316

  Concerning the retentiue and expulsiue faculties.
• 7 1.317

  Concerning expulsion made by Physicke.
• 8 1.318

  How the braine is moued to worke volun∣tary motion.
• 9 1.319

  Why pleasing obiects doe dilate the spirits, and displeasing ones contract them.
• 10 1.320

  Concerning the fiue senses for what vse and end they are.
• 1 1.321

  That Septum Lucidum is the seat of the fansie.
• 2 1.322

  What causeth vs to remēber not only the obiect it selfe; but also that we haue thought of it before.
• 3 1.323

  How the mo∣tions of the fantasie, are de∣riued to the hart.
• 4 1.324

  Of paine and pleasure.
• 5 1.325

  Of Passion.
• 6 1.326

  Of seuerall pulses caused by passions.
• 7 1.327

  Of seuerall other effects caused natu∣rally in the body by passiōs.
• 8 1.328

  Of the dia∣phragma.
• 9 1.329

  Concerning paine and plea∣sure caused by the memory of thinges past.
• 10 1.330

  How so small bodies as atomes are, can cause so great motions in the hart.
• 11 1.331

  How the vital spirits sent frō the braine, do runne to the intended part of the body without mistake.
• 12 1.332

  How men are blinded by Passion.
• 1 1.333

  The order and connexion of the subsequent Chapters.
• 2 1.334

  From whence proceedeth the doubting of beasts.
• 3 1.335

  Concerning the inuention of Foxes and other beasts.
• 4 1.336

  Of foxes that catch hennes by lying vnder their roost, and by gazing vpon them.
• 5 1.337

  From whence proceedeth the foxes inuentiō to ridde himselfe of fleas.
• 6 1.338

  An explication of two other inuentions of foxes.
• 7 1.339

  Concerning Mountagues argument to prooue that dogges make syllogismes.
• 8 1.340

  A declaration how some tricks are per∣formed by foxes, which seeme to argue discourse.
• 9 1.341

  Of the Iacca∣trays inuention in calling beasts to himselfe.
• 10 1.342

  Of the Iaccalls designe in ser∣uing the lyon.
• 11 1.343

  Of seuerall inuentions of fisshes.
• 12 1.344

  A discouery of diuers thinges done by hares, which seeme to argue dis∣course.
• 13 1.345

  Of a foxe reported to haue weighed a goose, before he would venture with it ouer a riuer; and of fabulous stories in common.
• 14 1.346

  Of the seuerall cryings and tones of beasts: with a refuta∣tion of those authours who maintaine thē to haue com∣pleat lāguages.
• 1 1.347

  How hawkes and other crea∣tures are taught to doe what they are browght vp to.
• 2 1.348

  Of the Baboone that played on a guitarre.
• 3 1.349

  Of the teaching of Elephātes and other beasts to doe diuers tricks.
• 4 1.350

  Of the Orderly traine of actions performed by beasts in breeding their yong ones.
• 1 1.351

  why beasts are affraide of men.
• 2 1.352

  How some qua∣li••••es caused at first by chance in beasts, may passe by gene∣ration to the whole offspring.
• 3 1.353

  How the parēts fantasie doth oftentimes worke strange effects in their issue.
• 4 1.354

  Of Antipa∣ties.
• 5 1.355

  O•• Sympa∣ties.
• 6 1.356

  That the Anti∣pathy of beasts towards one an other, may be taken away by assuefaction.
• 7 1.357

  Of longing markes seene in children.
• 8 1.358

  Why diuers men hate some certaine meates, and particu∣larly cheese.
• 9 1.359

  Concerning the prouidence of Aunts in laying vp in store for winter.
• 10 1.360

  Concerning the forekno∣wing of beasts.