updated_at,id,text,theme,metaphor,work_id,reviewed_on,provenance,created_at,comments,context,dictionary
2010-05-18 17:22:47 UTC,10372,"I do not understand (says he) how the Soul if she be at any time utterly without Thoughts, what it is that produces the first Thought again, at the end of that unthinking Interval. And what then? Must we therefore conclude it cannot be done? If that be a good Argument, we must deny the most common and visible Operations in Nature. Do you understand how your Soul thinks at all? How it passes from one Thought to another? How it preserves its Treasure of Ideas, to produce them at pleasure [on Co... ]ons? And recollects those it had [...] time Reflected on? How it moves [y... body] or is affected by it? These are Operations which I suppose you are not to [Sc..p..c.l] to doubt of, nor yet pretend to understand how they are done: And since we are certain that the Soul is affected with all the [...] Changes of the Body, that it is Sick and in pain, and unable to perform [....] according as the Body is disorder'd, since we so sensibly perceive ti to become Drowsy when the Body is so; so many degrees abated of its Action, even to very near not thinking at all, from that intenseness and vigour of Thought it had, and recovers when the Body is refreshed with Sleep; whatever is the Cause of these Effects, whether some immediate Connexion between them, or an Arbitrary Law of their Union, where is the difficulty to conceive that the same Cause which lulls it almost, shou'd lay it quite to rest and awaken it again with the Body?
(pp. 31-2)","","""Do you understand how your Soul ... preserves its Treasure of Ideas, to produce them at pleasure""?",3995,,Reading Trotter in ECCO,2005-03-23 00:00:00 UTC,"•Trotter respond to Burnet.
•Crappy scan of the microfilm makes some of this unlegible. REVISIT, find better copy to work with.","",""
2011-08-25 20:16:46 UTC,10374,"But if the Remarker thinks, that if all our thoughts cease in sound Sleep, all our Ideas are extinct, and must be new imprest; I desire him to consider, when a Sleeping or Waking Man thinks, what becomes of all those Ideas which he does not actually perceive in his own mind, for the mind is capable of taking notice but of very few at once: Must not all the rest by this Argument be extinct? And so we must have them new Imprest; and are as it were, New Born when ever we have any Ideas which we have not always actually perceiv'd, i.e. every time we pass from one thought to another. This is a sure consequence, if when all our thoughts cease, all our Ideas must be new imprest, unless a Man cou'd actually perceive all the Ideas he ever had at once; for his having only one thought in his mind, can no more keep any other there, or excite any other that it has no connexion with, than if he had no thought at all: I am thinking for Example, in my Sleep, of a Horse; his Beauty, Strength, and Usefulness: Does this thought preserve in my mind, the Ideas of a Church, of Happiness or Misery? Or can it help me to any of them, when I have occasion for them? If not, then these Ideas must be new imprest when I awake; but if they remain in the Soul when I was only thinking of a Horse, whereever they are bestow'd, it may be presum'd, there is room for that one idea more without thrusting out another to give it place: and when that one is among them, I see no more reason why they must be all new imprest, than that the others must have been new imprest when I only thought of that one unless, it be suppos'd that the Soul has always, just one idea [more] than there is place for in the repository of its Ideas; and if that happen to crou'd in, before another has got out, they will all be stifled together, or fly away for Air.
(pp. 33-4)","","But if ideas ""remain in the Soul when I was only thinking of a Horse, whereever they are bestow'd, it may be presum'd, there is room for that one idea more without thrusting out another to give it place: and when that one is among them, I see no more reason why they must be all new imprest, than that the others must have been new imprest when I only thought of that one unless, it be suppos'd that the Soul has always, just one idea [more] than there is place for in the repository of its Ideas; and if that happen to crou'd in, before another has got out, they will all be stifled together, or fly away for Air.""",3995,2011-08-25,"Reading in ECCO; found again reading Jonathan Kramnick's Actions and Objects (Stanford: Stanford UP, 2010), 166-7.",2005-03-23 00:00:00 UTC,"•Great Population metaphor.
•Crappy scan of the microfilm makes some of this illegible.","",Inhabitants
2013-06-11 18:02:02 UTC,10385,"Vertue is the right sacred Spring, whence flows
Those Christal Streams, whereby true Friendship grows;
That dear Affection, that firm Unity,
That Interwoven free Community,
Which so engageth Hearts and Minds together,
No stormy Sea, nor utmost Lands, can sever
These willing Captives: For the Gen'rous Mind
Is not by place, though far remote, confin'd.
True Friends, when they by distance are bereaven
Of Verbal Converse, have their Names engraven
In one anothers Hearts, which cannot be
Cancell'd or Raz'd by Earths vain obloquy:
Yet, lest the same should, as a Glimm'ring Spark,
Seem to expire, as buried in the Dark,
There is by Mediums (if the place deny
Them, viva voce, free Community)
Reciprocal Reflections of its Beams
Unto each other, couch'd in sable Streams;
Tho' the abounding Solace doth increase,
When Friends converse together Face to Face;
Then freely they Unbosom their Requests,
And treasure Secrets in each others Breasts,
As in firm Cabinets, close lock'd, where none
Can find the Key, but only each his own.
Is one oppress'd with Grief? He lays a share
Upon his Friend, that he may help to bear:
Swims one in Solace? Finds he cause of Joy?
'Tis then re-doubled by Community:
Mourns one? the other Mourns: Doth one Rejoyce?
His Second Self then, both in Heart and Voice,
Doth Sympathize: True Friendship may not be
Without an inward secret Sympathy.
But fawning Parasites, tho' they pretend,
In Complement, to be each others Friend,
For meer Self-int'rest, or some close design,
Become, if not proud Enemies, in time
Absolute Strangers; and so manifest
True Friendship ne'er was grounded in their Breast.
Altho' there was some formal Shew, whereby
Some were deluded, through Hypocrisie,
T'impart their hidden Secrets, which are now
Made Proclamations, with a scornful Brow;
Nor are Reproaches, taunting Calumnies,
Backbiting, Railing, other Injuries,
With-held, as opportunity affords
Them vent for Wrath, with either Tongue or Swords;
Surely, because such do not rightly know
That Innate Spring, which makes true Friendship grow:
For this, by Covenant, doth so engage
Their Noble Hearts, that no Self-wounding Rage
Can here prevail, or once dissolve the Knot
Friendship hath ty'd: Mistakes are soon forgot,
If any interpose, or would present
Some Crime, to cause a Frown in discontent.
There's Charity in Friendly Breasts, that heals
Such Scars, whereby true Love, not Rage, prevails:
And when it is unto Perfection grown
In both their Hearts, such Scars are seldom known.
Gentle Advice, whereby one may reclaim
A Friend from Error, doth not wrong the Name,
Or make a Breach in Friendship: None may be
Rightly esteem'd a Friend, that if he see
His Neighbour lose his Way, will not direct
Unto a better; or that will reject
Good Exhortation, fancying Reproof
A greater Crime than he is guilty of.
Self-hood is often Blind; therefore a Friend
Is not prohibited to reprehend,
So he proclaim not Faults. But they that would
Sin uncontroul'd, and hug their Errors, should
Never contract a Friendship, lest thereby
That sacred Name be stain'd with Infamy.
Is any Wise, that when Distempers do
Begin to seize, would not desire to know?
Diseases known, are sooner cur'd; but they
That would indulge and hide them, that they may
Thereby increase, do frequently expose
Themselves, as a Derision to their Foes.
True Cordial Friends, without offence, can bear
Kind Admonition, though it be severe.
The faithful Wounds of Friends are like Incision,
Made by the Skilful Hand of some Physitián,
To let out noxious Humours, that invade
The afflicted Part, and stubbornly impede
The hoped Cure; which afterward with speed
Doth, by some suppling Ointment, well succeed.","","""When Friends converse together Face to Face; / Then freely they Unbosom their Requests, / And treasure Secrets in each others Breasts, / As in firm Cabinets, close lock'd, where none / Can find the Key, but only each his own.""",3994,,"Searching ""breast"" and ""cabinet"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-09-07 00:00:00 UTC,"","",Rooms
2013-06-11 18:05:43 UTC,10406,"Teach the luxurious with a noble Scorn
To look on all the glitt'ring Trifles here below:
Tell them they were for higher Bus'ness born,
And on their Minds should all their Thoughts bestow;
There all their Care, and all their Skill should show.
Tell them the Pomp of Life is but a Snare,
Riches, Temptations which they ought to fear,
Empire, a Burthen few have Strength enough to bear.
The true, substantial Wealth is lodg'd within;
'Tis there the brightest Gems are found:
Such as wou'd great and glorious Treasures win,
Treasures which theirs for ever will remain,
Must Piety and Wisdom strive to gain:
Those shining Ornaments which always prove
Incentives to Respect and Love.
Virtue its Splendor ever will retain,
And Wisdom still an inward State maintain;
Still in the Soul with a Majestick Grandeur reign.
In vicious Minds they Admiration raise,
What they won't practice, they are forc'd to praise:
With gnawing Envy they their Triumphs view,
But dare not their malignant Rancor shew,
Nor undisguis'd the Dictates of their Spite pursue:
Like Birds obscene they shun th' offensive Light,
And hide themselves beneath the gloomy Veil of Night.
Thrice blest are they who're with interior Graces crown'd,
Whose Minds with rational Delights abound,
With Pleasures more delicious, more refin'd,
Than the voluptuous can in their Enjoyments find;
Such Pleasures as ne'er yet regal'd their Sense,
Which Earth can't give, nor mightiest Kings dispence,
And whose Description far exceeds the Pow'r of Eloquence.",Inwardness,"""The true, substantial Wealth is lodg'd within; / 'Tis there the brightest Gems are found: / Such as wou'd great and glorious Treasures win, Treasures which theirs for ever will remain, / Must Piety and Wisdom strive to gain.""",4010,,Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-08-09 00:00:00 UTC,"",70,Coinage
2009-09-14 19:34:57 UTC,10411,"No State of Life's from Troubles free,
Grief mixes with our vital Breath:
As soon as we begin to be,
From the first moment of our Birth,
We have some tast of Misery:
With Sighs and Tears our Fate we mourn,
As if our Infant Reason did presage
Th' approaching Ills of our maturer Age,
And wish'd a quick Return.
When Souls are first to their close Rooms confin'd,
Nothing of their Celestial Make is seen,
Obscuring Earth does interpose between:
Like Tapers hid in Urns they shine.
The Life of Sense and Growth we only see,
Which Beasts enjoy as well as we:
But th' active Mind
Which bears the Image of the Pow'r Divine,
Cannot exert its Energy:
The streiten'd Intellect immur'd does lie,
Shut up within a narrow place,
Till Nature does enlarge the Space,
And by degrees the Organs fit,
For those great Operations which are wrought by it.","","Souls are ""Like Tapers hid in Urns they shine. / The Life of Sense and Growth we only see, / Which Beasts enjoy as well as we""",4020,,Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-08-29 00:00:00 UTC,•I've included twice: Tapers and Urns,Stanza 1,""
2012-07-02 15:41:01 UTC,10412,"No State of Life's from Troubles free,
Grief mixes with our vital Breath:
As soon as we begin to be,
From the first moment of our Birth,
We have some tast of Misery:
With Sighs and Tears our Fate we mourn,
As if our Infant Reason did presage
Th' approaching Ills of our maturer Age,
And wish'd a quick Return.
When Souls are first to their close Rooms confin'd,
Nothing of their Celestial Make is seen,
Obscuring Earth does interpose between:
Like Tapers hid in Urns they shine.
The Life of Sense and Growth we only see,
Which Beasts enjoy as well as we:
But th' active Mind
Which bears the Image of the Pow'r Divine,
Cannot exert its Energy:
The streiten'd Intellect immur'd does lie,
Shut up within a narrow place,
Till Nature does enlarge the Space,
And by degrees the Organs fit,
For those great Operations which are wrought by it.","","""The streiten'd Intellect immur'd does lie, / Shut up within a narrow place, / Till Nature does enlarge the Space, / And by degrees the Organs fit, / For those great Operations which are wrought by it.""",4020,2012-07-02,Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-08-29 00:00:00 UTC,"",Stanza 1,Rooms
2013-06-13 21:20:38 UTC,12247,"I bowed to him in return of Thanks, but Sleep was all that Night a Stranger to my Eyes; the Thoughts of what I must suffer by the Loss of Don Antonio were crowded in my Imagination, and left no Room for Rest; the finding my old Lover amongst the Slaves gave me some Confusion, and I could not conclude what would be the Event if I should chance to","","""Thoughts of what I must suffer by the Loss of Don Antonio were crowded in my Imagination, and left no Room for Rest.""",4631,,"Searching in HDIS (Prose); found again ""thought"" and ""crowd""; again ""imagination""",2005-09-03 00:00:00 UTC,"","",Inhabitants
2014-07-02 15:25:47 UTC,24123,"Thou Proteus to abus'd Mankind,
Who never yet thy real Cause cou'd find,
Or fix thee to remain in one continued Shape.
Still varying thy perplexing Form,
Now a Dead Sea thou'lt represent,
A Calm of stupid Discontent,
Then, dashing on the Rocks wilt rage into a Storm.
Trembling sometimes thou dost appear,
Dissolv'd into a Panick Fear;
On Sleep intruding dost thy Shadows spread,
Thy gloomy Terrours round the silent Bed,
And croud with boading Dreams the Melancholy Head:
Or, when the Midnight Hour is told,
And drooping Lids thou still dost waking hold,
Thy fond Delusions cheat the Eyes,
Before them antick Spectres dance,
Unusual Fires their pointed Heads advance,
And airy Phantoms rise.
Such was the monstrous Vision seen,
When Brutus (now beneath his Cares opprest,
And all Rome's Fortunes rolling in his Breast,
Before Philippi's latest Field,
Before his Fate did to Octavius lead)
Was vanquish'd by the Spleen.
(pp. 88-89)","","""On Sleep intruding dost thy Shadows spread, / Thy gloomy Terrours round the silent Bed, / And croud with boading Dreams the Melancholy Head.""",7954,,Searching in ECCO-TCP,2014-07-02 15:25:47 UTC,"","",""
2014-07-02 15:40:42 UTC,24130,"Away the Skilful Doctor comes
Of Recipes and Med'cines full,
To check the giddy Whirl of Nature's Fires,
If so th' unruly Case requires;
Or with his Cobweb-cleansing Brooms
To sweep and clear the over-crouded Scull,
If settl'd Spirits flag, and make the Patient dull.
But asking what the Symptoms were,
That made 'em think he was so bad?
The Man indeed, they cry'd, is wond'rous Mad
You, at this Distance, may behold him there
Beneath that Tree in open Air,
Surrounded with the Engines of his Fate,
The Gimcracks of a broken Pate.
Those Hoops a Sphere he calls,
That Ball the Earth;
And when into his raving Fit he falls,
'Twou'd move at once your Pity, and your Mirth,
To hear him, as you will do soon,
Declaring, there's a Kingdom in the Moon;
And that each Star, for ought he knows,
May some Inhabitants enclose:
Philosophers, he says, may there abound,
Such Jugglers as himself be in them found;
Which if there be, the World may well turn round;
At least to those, whose Whimsies are so strange,
That, whilst they're fixt to one peculiar Place,
Pretend to measure far extended Space,
And 'mongst the Planets range.
Behold him now contemplating that Head,
From which long-since both Flesh, and Brains are fled;
Questioning, if that empty, hollow Bowl
Did not ere while contain the Human Soul:
Then starts a Doubt, if 'twere not to the Heart
That Nature rather did that Gift impart.
Good Sir, employ the utmost of your Skill,
To make him Wiser, tho' against his Will;
Who thinks, that he already All exceeds,
And laughs at our most solemn Words and Deeds:
Tho' once amongst us he wou'd try a Cause,
And Bus'ness of the Town discuss,
Knowing, as well as one of us,
The Price of Corn, and standing Market-Laws;
Wou'd bear an Office in his Turn,
For which good Purposes all Men were born;
Not to be making Circles in the Sand,
And scaling Heav'n, till they have sold their Land.
Or, when unstock'd below their Pasture lies,
To find out Bulls and Rams, amidst the Skies.
From these Mistakes his Madness we conclude;
And hearing, you was with much Skill endu'd,
Your Aid we sought. Hippocrates amaz'd,
Now on the Sage, now on the Rabble gaz'd;
And whilst he needless finds his artful Rules,
Pities a Man of Sense, judg'd by a Croud of Fools
Then how can we with their Opinions join,
Who, to promote some Int'rest, wou'd define
The Peoples Voice to be the Voice Divine?
(pp. 286-8)","","""Away the Skilful Doctor comes / Of Recipes and Med'cines full, / To check the giddy Whirl of Nature's Fires, / If so th' unruly Case requires; / Or with his Cobweb-cleansing Brooms / To sweep and clear the over-crouded Scull, / If settl'd Spirits flag, and make the Patient dull.""",7957,,Searching in ECCO-TCP,2014-07-02 15:40:18 UTC,"","",Rooms
2014-07-02 15:41:57 UTC,24131,"Away the Skilful Doctor comes
Of Recipes and Med'cines full,
To check the giddy Whirl of Nature's Fires,
If so th' unruly Case requires;
Or with his Cobweb-cleansing Brooms
To sweep and clear the over-crouded Scull,
If settl'd Spirits flag, and make the Patient dull.
But asking what the Symptoms were,
That made 'em think he was so bad?
The Man indeed, they cry'd, is wond'rous Mad
You, at this Distance, may behold him there
Beneath that Tree in open Air,
Surrounded with the Engines of his Fate,
The Gimcracks of a broken Pate.
Those Hoops a Sphere he calls,
That Ball the Earth;
And when into his raving Fit he falls,
'Twou'd move at once your Pity, and your Mirth,
To hear him, as you will do soon,
Declaring, there's a Kingdom in the Moon;
And that each Star, for ought he knows,
May some Inhabitants enclose:
Philosophers, he says, may there abound,
Such Jugglers as himself be in them found;
Which if there be, the World may well turn round;
At least to those, whose Whimsies are so strange,
That, whilst they're fixt to one peculiar Place,
Pretend to measure far extended Space,
And 'mongst the Planets range.
Behold him now contemplating that Head,
From which long-since both Flesh, and Brains are fled;
Questioning, if that empty, hollow Bowl
Did not ere while contain the Human Soul:
Then starts a Doubt, if 'twere not to the Heart
That Nature rather did that Gift impart.
Good Sir, employ the utmost of your Skill,
To make him Wiser, tho' against his Will;
Who thinks, that he already All exceeds,
And laughs at our most solemn Words and Deeds:
Tho' once amongst us he wou'd try a Cause,
And Bus'ness of the Town discuss,
Knowing, as well as one of us,
The Price of Corn, and standing Market-Laws;
Wou'd bear an Office in his Turn,
For which good Purposes all Men were born;
Not to be making Circles in the Sand,
And scaling Heav'n, till they have sold their Land.
Or, when unstock'd below their Pasture lies,
To find out Bulls and Rams, amidst the Skies.
From these Mistakes his Madness we conclude;
And hearing, you was with much Skill endu'd,
Your Aid we sought. Hippocrates amaz'd,
Now on the Sage, now on the Rabble gaz'd;
And whilst he needless finds his artful Rules,
Pities a Man of Sense, judg'd by a Croud of Fools
Then how can we with their Opinions join,
Who, to promote some Int'rest, wou'd define
The Peoples Voice to be the Voice Divine?
(pp. 286-8)","","""Behold him now contemplating that Head, / From which long-since both Flesh, and Brains are fled; / Questioning, if that empty, hollow Bowl / Did not ere while contain the Human Soul.""",7957,,Searching in ECCO-TCP,2014-07-02 15:41:57 UTC,"","",""