When She rates things, and moves from ground to ground, The name of Reason, She obtains by this! But when, by reasons, She the truth hath found, And standeth fixt, She, Understanding is!
When her assent, She lightly doth incline To either part, She is Opinion light! But when She doth by principles define A certain truth, She hath true Judgement's sight.
And as from senses, Reason's work doth spring; So many reasons, Understanding gain: And many understandings, Knowledge bring, And by much knowledge, Wisdom we obtain
So, many stairs we must ascend upright, Ere we attain to Wisdom's high degree: So doth this earth eclipse our Reason's light, Which else (in instants) would like angels see.
Yet hath the Soul a dowry natural, And Sparks of Light some common things to see; Not being a blank, where nought is writ at all, But what the writer will, may written be.
For Nature, in man's heart her laws doth pen, Prescribing Truth to Wit! and Good to Will! Which do accuse, or else excuse all men, For every thought or practice, good or ill!
And yet these sparks grow almost infinite, Making the world and all therein, their food; As fire so spreads, as no place holdeth it, Being nourished still with new supplies of wood.
And though these sparks were almost quenched with sin, Yet they, whom that Just One hath justified, Have them increased, with Heavenly Light within! And, like the Widow's oil, still multiplied!
And as this Wit should goodness truly know, We have a Wit which that true good should choose! Though Will do oft (when Wit, false Forms doth show) Take Ill, for Good; and Good, for Ill refuse.
[Sidenote: The relations betwixt Wit and Will.]
Will puts in practice what the Wit deviseth; The Will ever acts, and Wit contemplates still: And as from Wit the power of Wisdom riseth; All other virtues, daughters are of Will!
Will is the Prince! and Wit, the Councillor! Which doth for common good in council sit; And when Wit is resolved; Will lends her power To execute what is advised by Wit.
Wit is the Mind's Chief Judge! which doth control, Of Fancy's Court, the judgements false and vain! Will holds the royal sceptre in the Soul; And on the Passions of the Heart doth reign!
Will is as free as any Emperor, Nought can restrain her gentle liberty; No tyrant, nor no torment hath the power To make us will; when we unwilling be!