theme,metaphor,work_id,dictionary,provenance,id,created_at,updated_at,reviewed_on,comments,text,context
"","""Without the help and assistance of the senses [the mind] can achieve nothing more than a labourer working in darkness behind shuttered windows""",3275,Inhabitants,"Reading S. H. Clark's ""Locke and Metaphor Reconsidered"" in JHI 59:2 (1998) p. 247",8536,2005-03-21 00:00:00 UTC,2009-09-14 19:33:37 UTC,,•I've include twice: Labourer and Windows.,Without the help and assistance of the senses [the mind] can achieve nothing more than a labourer working in darkness behind shuttered windows
(p. 139),""
"","""A silent night inhabits my sad breast, / And now no chearful thought will be my guest.""",3616,Inhabitants,"Searching ""guest"" and ""breast"" in HDIS (Poetry)",9389,2006-03-15 00:00:00 UTC,2009-09-14 19:34:11 UTC,,"","Such is the melancholly Earth, when light
Flies thence, and leaves its room to sable night;
VVhen darkness, Cold and Shadows dwell upon
Her Surface; some pale glimerings of the Moon
Is all she can expect; a mourner then
She is 'till Phoebus brings his day agen:
Such is the matchless, mateless Turtle Dove,
Sighing its murmurs for its absent Love:
Such is the body when the Soul is fled:
Such Pyramus supposing Thisbe dead:
Such the male Palm the female broken down,
As I am now, my fairest Sylvia's gon.
My wither'd Head declines apace, my greem
And growing youth to sprout no more is seen.
My blood's grown cold, and frozen; every limb
As if it wanted heat, and life doth seem.
My hoarse complaints the very rocks do move,
VVho eccho the last accents of my Love.
A silent night inhabits my sad breast,
And now no chearful thought will be my guest.
Till her return, whose eyes will cause a day,
Thus must I in my own unquiet stay;
Wishing for the bright morning, which must rise
From th' Luminaries of fair Sylvia's eyes.",""
"","""In good faith this thought was no stranger to my imagination.""",3679,Inhabitants,"Searching ""imagination"" and ""stranger"" in HDIS (Drama)",9543,2006-03-06 00:00:00 UTC,2009-09-14 19:34:18 UTC,,"",DRYB.
In good faith this thought was no stranger to my imagination.,Act V
"","""A Crowd of Vertues fill your Princely Breast.""",3761,Inhabitants,"Searching ""breast"" and ""crowd"" in HDIS (Poetry)",9712,2006-03-08 00:00:00 UTC,2011-12-21 18:07:22 UTC,,"","Hushai in Silence heard the Prince, and weigh'd
Each word he spake, then to him thus reply'd;
Great Prince, th' Almighty has to you been kind,
Stamp'd Graces on your Body and your mind,
As if he for your Head a Crown design'd.
We shall not search into Fates Secret Womb,
God alone knows the things that are to come;
But should you never sit on David's Throne,
'Tis better to deserve than wear a Crown.
Of Royal Blood, and of great Birth you are,
Born under some benign auspicious Star,
Lov'd by the best, and prais'd by every Tongue,
The glorious Subject of each worthy Song:
The young man's Wish, Joy of each Warlike Wight,
The People's Darling, and the World's Delight.
A Crowd of Vertues fill your Princely Breast,
And what appears more glorious than the rest,
You are of Truth and Loyalty possest.
That I would cherish in you, that would raise
To an admired height, that I would chiefly praise.
Let Fools and subtil Politicians scorn
Fair Vertue, which doth best a Prince adorn:
Whilst you her bright and shining Robes put on,
You will appear more great than Solomon.
Let not Great Prince, the Fumes of Vulgar Praise,
Your bolder Spirits to Ambition raise.
We cannot see into the Mist of Fate,
Till time brings forth, you must expecting wait;
But Fortune, rather Providence, not Chance,
The constant, stout, and wise doth still advance.
Let your quick Eye be to her Motions ty'd;
But still let Noble Vertue be your Guide:
For when that God and Vertue points the way,
There can be then no danger to obey.
But here in Wisdom's School we ought to learn,
How we 'twixt Good and Evil may discern,
For noble Prince, you must true difference make,
Lest for the one the other you mistake.
You must not think you may your self advance,
By laying hold on every proffer'd chance.
Tho Fortune seems to smile, and egg you on,
Let Vertue be your Rule and Guide alone.
Thus David for his Guide his Vertue took;
Nor was by Fortune's proffer'd Kindness shook.
His Vertue and his Loyalty did save
King Saul, when Fortune brought him to his Cave.
And if that I may to you Counsel give,
You should without a Crown for ever live,
Rather than get it by the Peoples Lust,
Or purchase it by ways that are unjust.
David your Ancestor, from whom you spring,
Would never by Rebellion be made King;
But long in Gath a Warring Exile stay'd,
Till for him God a lawful way had made.
In Hebron, full of Glory and Renown,
He gain'd, at last, and not usurpt the Crown.
By full Consent he did the same obtain,
And Heav'n's anointing Oyl was not in vain.
I once did seem to Amazia dear,
Who me above m'ambitious hopes did rear;
I serv'd him then according to my skill,
And bow'd my Mind unto my Soveraign's Will.
Too neer the Soveraign Image then I stood,
To think that every Line and Stroke was good.
Some Daubers I endeavour'd to remove,
And to amend their artless Errours strove.
My Skill in secret these with slander wound;
With every Line I drew still faults were found;
Till wearied, I at last my Work gave o're.
And Amazia (I shall say no more)
Did me to my lov'd Privacy restore.
For this they think I must my Vertue change,
For Envy, Malice, and for sweet Revenge.
Me by themselves they judge, who would do so,
And cause the King suspect me for his Foe.
But by th'advice I give, you best will find
Th'Integrity and Plainness of my Mind;
And that I harbour not that vile intent
Their Poets and their Malice do invent.
Far be't from me, to be like Cursed Cham;
A good Son strives to hide his Father's shame.
A King, the Father of his Country is;
His shame is every Act he doth amiss.
Good and just Kings God's Image bear; but when
Their Frailties let us see they are but Men,
We cannot every Action so applaud,
As if it came from an unerring God.
Kings have their Passions, and deceiv'd may be,
When b'others Ears and Eyes they hear and see:
For Sycophants, of Courts the Bane and Curse,
Make all things better than they are, or worse.
To Evil prone, to Mischief ever bent,
Th'all Objects with false colours represent;
The Guilty clear, condemn the Innocent.
Thus, noble Prince, they you and me accuse
With all the Venome Malice can infuse.
Baal's Priests, Hell, and our Foes, new Arts have got,
The filthy Reliques of their former Plot;
Whereby they would our Lives in danger bring,
And make us cursed Traytors to the King.
What mayn't these cunning men hope to atchieve,
When by their Arts few men their Plot believe?
When b'horrid ways, not known to Jews before,
Their Plot's transform'd, and laid now at our door?
But fear not, Sir, we have a sure Defence,
The Peoples Love, God, Law, and Innocence.
Keep fast your Vertue, and you shall be blest,
And let alone to God and Time the rest.",""
"","""The wing'd Battalions from her lovely face / Flew to the Breach, and, rushing in apace, / Did quickly make her Mistress of the place [the heart].""",3834,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),9868,2004-08-10 00:00:00 UTC,2018-06-18 15:38:35 UTC,,"","This Heart of mine, now wreck'd upon despair,
Was once as free and careless as the Air;
In th' early Morning of my tender years,
E're I was sensible of Hopes and Fears,
It floated in a Sea of Mirth and Ease,
And thought the World was only made to please;
No adverse Wind had ever stopp'd its Course,
Nor had it felt great Love's tempestuous Force,
(That Storm that swells the Tydes of Human Care,
And makes black Waves come rolling from afar,)
'Till too much Freedom made it grow secure,
As if the Sunshine always would endure;
And I, with haughty and disdainful Pride,
Mock'd the blind God, and all his Force defy'd.
At this enrag'd, the injur'd Deity
Chose out the best of his Artillery,
And in a blooming Virgin's Dove-like Eyes
He planted his Victorious Batteries;
(Phillis her Name, the best of Woman-kind,
Could Love have gain'd the Empire of her Mind)
These shot so furiously against my Heart,
That Nature's strength, tho' much improv'd by Art,
With Groans gave way to each resistless stroak,
As when the Thunder rends some sturdy Oak.
The wing'd Battalions from her lovely face
Flew to the Breach, and, rushing in apace,
Did quickly make her Mistress of the place.",""
"","Ideas may be ""rouzed and tumbled out of their dark Cells, into open Day-light""",3866,Rooms,Found again in Lamb's Preserving the Self (28) on 11/8/2004.,9968,2003-09-15 00:00:00 UTC,2009-09-14 19:34:36 UTC,2004-11-08,•This is a metaphorically rich chapter!
•I've included twice: People and Cells
,"In this secondary Perception, as I may call it, or viewing again the Ideas, that are lodg'd in the Memory, the Mind is oftentimes more than barely passive, the appearance of those dormant Pictures, depending sometimes on the Will. The Mind very often sets it self on work in search of some hidden Idea, and turns, as it were, the Eye of the Soul upon it; though sometimes too they start up in our Minds of their own accord, and offer themselves to the Understanding; and very often are rouzed and tumbled out of their dark Cells, into open Day-light, by some turbulent and tempestuous Passion; our Affections bringing Ideas to our Memory, which had otherwise lain quiet and unregarded. This farther is to be observed, concerning Ideas lodg'd in the Memory, and upon occasion revived by the Mind, that they are not only (as the Word revive imports) none of them new ones; but also that the Mind takes notice of them, as of a former Impression, and renews its acquaintance with them, as with Ideas it had known before. So that though Ideas formerly imprinted are not all constantly in view, yet in remembrance they are constantly known to be such, as have been formerly imprinted, i.e. in view, and taken notice of before by the Understanding. So that though Ideas formerly imprinted are not constantly in view, yet in remembrance they are constantly known to be such, as have been formerly imprinted, i.e. in view, and taken notice of before by the Understanding.
(II.x.7) ",II.x.7
"","""Thus he who has raised himself above the Alms-Basket, and not content to live lazily on scraps of begg'd Opinions, sets his own Thoughts on work, to find and follow Truth, will (whatever he lights on) not miss the Hunter's Satisfaction""",3866,"",Reading,10003,2003-09-04 00:00:00 UTC,2009-09-14 19:34:38 UTC,,"","For the Understanding, like the Eye, judging of Objects, only by its own Sight, cannot but be pleased with what it discovers, having less regret for what has scaped it, because it is unknown. Thus he who has raised himself above the Alms-Basket, and not content to live lazily on scraps of begg'd Opinions, sets his own Thoughts on work, to find and follow Truth, will (whatever he lights on) not miss the Hunter's Satisfaction; every moment of his Pursuit, will reward his Pains with some Delight; and he will have Reason to think his time not ill spent, even when he cannot much boast of any great Acquisition.
(Epistle to the Reader, p. 6)",The Epistle to the Reader
"Negated Metaphor, Stranger Within","""Whenever the memory brings any idea into actual view, it is with a consciousness, that it had been there before, and was not wholly a stranger to the mind""",3866,Inhabitant,"Searching ""mind"" and ""stranger"" in Past Masters",10005,2003-09-06 00:00:00 UTC,2009-09-14 19:34:38 UTC,,"","To which let me add: If there be any innate ideas, any ideas in the mind, which the mind does not actually think on, they must be lodged in the memory, and from thence must be brought into view by remembrance; i.e. must be known, when they are remembered, to have been perceptions in the mind before, unless remembrance can be without remembrance. For to remember is to perceive any thing with memory, or with a consciousness, that it was known or perceived before. Without this, whatever idea comes into the mind is new, and not remembered; this consciousness of its having been in the mind before being that which distinguishes remembering from all other ways of thinking. Whatever idea was never perceived by the mind, was never in the mind. Whatever idea is in the mind, is either an actual perception; or else, having been an actual perception, is so in the mind, that by the memory it can be made an actual perception again. Whenever there is the actual perception of any idea without memory, the idea appears perfectly new and unknown before to the understanding. Whenever the memory brings any idea into actual view, it is with a consciousness, that it had been there before, and was not wholly a stranger to the mind. Whether this be not so, I appeal to every one's observation; and then I desire an instance of an idea, pretended to be innate, which (before any impression of it by ways hereafter to be mentioned) any one could revive and remember as an idea he had formerly known; without which consciousness of a former perception there is no remembrance; and whatever idea comes into the mind without that consciousness is not remembered, or comes not out of the memory, nor can be said to be in the mindbefore that appearance: For what is not either actually in view or in the memory, is in the mind no way at all, and is all one as if it had never been there. Suppose a child had the use of his eyes, till he knows and distinguishes colours; but then cataracts shut the windows, and he is forty or fifty years perfectly in the dark, and in that time perfectly loses all memory of the ideas of colours he once had. This was the case of a blind man I once talked with, who lost his sight by the small-pox when he was a child, and had no more notion of colours than one born blind. I ask, whether any one can say this man had then any ideas of colours in his mind, any more than one born blind? And I think nobody will say, that either of them had in his mind any ideas of colours at all. His cataracts are couched, and then he has the ideas (which he remembers not) of colours, de novo, by his restored sight, conveyed to his mind, and that without any consciousness of a former acquaintance: And these now he can revive, and call to mind in the dark. In this case all these ideas of colours, which when out of view can be revived with a consciousness of a former acquaintance, being thus in the memory, are said to be in the mind. The use I make of this, is, that whatever idea, being not actually in view, is in the mind, is there only by being in the memory; and if it be not in the memory, it is not in the mind; and if it be in the memory, it cannot by the memory be brought into actual view, without a perception that it comes out of the memory; which is this, that it had been known before, and is now remembered. If therefore there be any innate ideas, they must be in the memory, or else no where in the mind; and if they be in the memory, they can be revived without any impression from without; and whenever they are brought into the mind, they are remembered, i.e. they bring with them a perception of their not being wholly new to it. This being a constant and distinguishing difference between what is, and what is not in the memory, or in the mind; that what is not in the memory, whenever it appears there, appears perfectly new and unknown before; and what is in the memory, or in the mind, whenever it is suggested by the memory, appears not to be new, but the mind finds it in itself, and knows it was there before. By this it may be tried, whether there be any innate ideas in the mind, before impression from sensation or reflection. I would fain meet with the man, who when he came to the use of reason, or at any other time, remembered any of them: And to whom, after he was born, they were never new. If any one will say, there are ideas in the mind, that are not in the memory: I desire him to explain himself, and make what he says intelligible.",I.iv.20
"","""Yet I suspect, I say, that this way of speaking of Faculties has misled many into a confused Notion of so many distinct Agents in us, which had their several Provinces and Authorities, and did command, obey, and perform several Actions, as so many distinct Beings; which has been no small occasion of wrangling, obscurity, and uncertainty in questions relating to them.""",3866,Inhabitants,Reading,19100,2011-08-26 15:23:54 UTC,2011-08-26 15:24:11 UTC,,INTEREST: a meta-metaphorical insight into the personification of the mind.,"These powers of the mind, viz. of Perceiving and of Preferring, are usually call'd by another Name: And the ordinary way of Speaking is, that the Understanding and Will are two Faculties of the mind; a word proper enough, if it be used as all Words should be, so as not to breed any confusion in Mens Thoughts, by being supposed (as I suspect it has been) to stand for some real Beings in the Soul that performed those Actions of Understanding and Volition. For when we say the Will is the commanding and superior Faculty of the Soul: that it is, or is not free; that it determines the inferior Faculties; that it follows the Dictates of the Understanding, etc. though these, and the like Expressions, by those that carefully attend to their own Ideas, and conduct their Thoughts more by the evidence of Things, than the sound of Words, may be understood in a clear and distinct sense: Yet I suspect, I say, that this way of speaking of Faculties has misled many into a confused Notion of so many distinct Agents in us, which had their several Provinces and Authorities, and did command, obey, and perform several Actions, as so many distinct Beings; which has been no small occasion of wrangling, obscurity, and uncertainty in questions relating to them.
(II.xxi.6)","Book II, Chapter xxi"
"","""However chast his Body may be, his Mind is extreamly prolifick; his thoughts are a perfect Seraglio, and he, like a great Turk, begets thousands of little Infants--Remarks, Fancys, Fantasticks, Crochets and Whirligigs, on his wandring Intellect, and when once begot, they must be bred--so out he turns 'em into the wide World to shift for themselves, after he has put a few black and white Raggs about 'em to cover their Nakedness.""",7476,Inhabitants,C-H Lion,20947,2013-06-18 18:04:09 UTC,2013-06-18 18:10:01 UTC,,"","He's a thing wholly consisting of Extreams--A Head, Fingers and Toes; for what his industrious Toes do tread, his ready Fingers do write, his running Head dictating. But to describe him more exactly, He is is made up of a large Head and Ears, some Beams, and most immoderate Tongue, Toes and Fingers; a very Carrier or Foot-post will draw him from any Company that has not been abroad, (excepting always his dear Iris, for she is ever new) meerly because he's a sort of a Traveller: But a Dutch Post ravishes him, and the meer Superscription of a Letter (thô there's ne're a Bill in't) from Boston, Italy, or France, sets him up like a Top, Colen or Germany makes him spin--(and without Whipping too, there's the wonder) and at seeing the word Universe, America, Flanders, or the Holy Land, thô but on the Title of a Book, he's ready to break Doublet, let fall Breeches, (in a civil way ) and overflow the room with all those Wonderments have surpriz'd him in these flourishing Countreys. If he has no Latin or Greek, he makes it up with abundant scraps of Italian, Spanish, French and Dutch, and thô he has little more knowledge in any of 'em than Comestato? Parlez vous? or How vare ye Min-heer? and can hardly buy a Sallat in one Language, or a Herring in t'other; yet when he comes home, he passes with himself and others like him, for a monstrous learned Creature, a Native of every Countrey under Heaven, whereas indeed he's a meer Babylonian, he confounds all Languages, but speaks none, and is so careful to jumble together the Gibberish of other Countreys, that he almost forgets his own Mother Tongue, as the Roman Orator did his Name, only the Writing the History of his Travels makes him remember it agen. All his Discourse is shap'd into a Traveling Garb, and is the same with his Manners and Haviour, looking as if 'twas contriv'd to make Mourners merry. He's all the strange shapes round the Maps put together--one Legg a Hungarian, t'other a Pole; one piece of him a Turk, and the next a Tartar or Moscovite; but if you look on his Face, you'd swear he's a Laplander--so much has Travelling, Wind, Sun and Rain discoulour'd it and alter'd it: However chast his Body may be, his Mind is extreamly prolifick; his thoughts are a perfect Seraglio, and he, like a great Turk, begets thousands of little Infants--Remarks, Fancys, Fantasticks, Crochets and Whirligigs, on his wandring Intellect, and when once begot, they must be bred--so out he turns 'em into the wide World to shift for themselves, after he has put a few black and white Raggs about 'em to cover their Nakedness: But to look upon 'em when they once get abroad--to see how hugely they favour their Father: Do but view 'em all over, and--Here's that will cure your Corns, Gout, Chollick, and what you please; or as the most excellent Saffold--'Twill cure every cureable Disease: (You have heard of the Monkey that cured the Cardinal:) Undo the Colledge, and break Apothecarys Hall, as easily as one of their Glasses. There's no Man who for his sake wou'd n't neglect any thing but Business, that is to say, wou'd not be glad of his Company, when he has nothing else to do:--He'll ask you how you do; where you have been; what News; how is't; if you have Travelled; and above all, (when Publish'd) How you like his Rambles; han't they a fine Frontispiece--Ay, a very fine one; there's Art--there's Thought--well--and then for the Uerses before it, I say Coriat's Book was but a Horn-book to't--they no more deserve to be compared together than Pilgrims Progress and Burton's Wonderments; and so he would Ramble on to the End of the Chapter, did not you out of Civility give him a gentle tweak by the Nose, or kick on the Shins, and ask him whether he knew what he was talking of? Yet as good let him alone, for if you get him out of this Impertinency, he'll ramble into a thousand more, rather than want the Humanity of vexing you--but then such courteous ones they'll be (for he's the very Pink of Courtesie) that ye can't for your Teeth find in your Heart to be angry with him. If he chances to be Shipwrackt, he can't be angry with the Sea or Winds; Nay, is rather pleas'd with 'em, for giving him opportunity to describe a Storm more lively, and tell the World what direful Dangers he escaped, when he swum ashore like a Cæsar, with his Sword in one hand, and his Commentaries in t'other. He's averse to nothing that has Motion in't, and for a Lowse, he dearly loves such a painful Fellow-Traveller, who Rambles over his Microcosm, or lesser World, as he the greater--nibling and sucking here and there, whenever he finds any thing agreeable to his Palate. He's generally for Foot-service, and thinks that much more brave than the Horse, scorning to ride upon four Hoofs, when Nature has given him ten Toes to support him. But if he should be forc'd into such Circumstances, by the surbating his Feet, he envies those happier Criminals who have their Leggs ty'd under their Horses belly, and thinks the most commodious way of riding is with his Face toward the Tayl, for then he can't see any danger 'till he's past it. Other People are for walking with a Horse in their Hand, he's o' the contrary, for riding with his Staff in his Hand, or rather Walking with a Horse between his Leggs, for his Feet still move at the same rate as if they touch'd the ground, and were imployed in their own natural motion.
(pp. 9-14)",The Impartial Character of a Rambler.