Sense thinks the planets' spheres not much asunder; What tells us, then, their distance is so far? Sense thinks the lightning born before the thunder, What tells us, then, they both together are?
When men seem crows, far off upon a tower; Sense saith, "They are crows!" What makes us think them men? When we, in agues, think all sweet things sour; What makes us know our tongue's false judgements then?
What power was that, whereby MEDEA saw, And well approved and praised the better course, When her rebellious Sense did so withdraw Her feeble powers, as she pursued the worst?
Did Sense persuade ULYSSES not to hear The Mermaid's songs? which so his men did please, As they were all persuaded through the ear, To quit the ship, and leap into the seas.
Could any power of Sense the Roman move, To burn his own right hand, with courage stout? Could Sense make MARIUS sit unbound, and prove The cruel lancing of the knotty gout?
Doubtless in Man, there is a Nature found Beside the senses, and above them far; Though "most men being in sensual pleasures drowned, It seems their souls but in their senses are."
If we had nought but sense, then only they Should have sound minds, which have their senses sound; But Wisdom grows, when senses do decay, And Folly most, in quickest sense is found.
If we had nought but Sense, each living wight, Which we call brute, would be more sharp than we; As having Sense's apprehensive might In a more clear and excellent degree.
But they do want that quick discoursing Power, Which doth, in us, the erring Sense correct: Therefore the bee did suck the painted flower, And birds, of grapes the cunning shadow peckt.
Sense, outsides knows! the Soul, through all things sees, Sense, circumstance! She doth, the substance view; Sense sees the bark! but She, the life of trees; Sense hears the sounds! but She, the concords true.
But why do I the Soul and Sense divide? When Sense is but a power, which She extends, Which being in divers parts diversified, The divers Forms of objects apprehends?
This power spreads outward; but the root doth grow In th'inward Soul, which only doth perceive; For the Eyes and Ears, no more their objects know, Than glasses know what faces they receive.