A00777:178
Diseases of the soul a discourse divine, moral, and physical. By Tho. AdamsDiseases of the soule a discourse diuine, morall, and physicall. By Tho. Adams
Diseases of the soul a discourse divine, moral, and physical. By Tho. Adams.Diseases of the soule a discourse diuine, morall, and physicall. By Tho. Adams.
London: printed by George Purslowe for John Budge, 1616London: printed by George Purslowe for Iohn Budge, 1616
Title page typeset from the transcription.
Modern spelling is a reading aid: the words are the author’s, only the spelling is modernized. Original shows the page as printed, with the transcription marks.
Cause.
The cause of the Apoplexy is a flegmaticke humour, cold, gross, and tough, which abundantly fills the ventricles of the brain. The cause of Security, is a dusking and clouding of the understanding with the black humours, and dark mists of self-ignorance; a want of calling himself to a reckoning, till he be non-suted.
THe cause of the Apoplexie is a flegmaticke humour, cold, grosse, and tough, which abundantly fils the ventricles of the braine. The cause of Securitie, is a dusking and clouding of the vnderstanding with the blacke humours, and darke mists of selfe-ignorance; a want of calling himselfe to a reckoning, till he be non-suted.
Signs and Symptoms.
Signes and Symptomes.
The Signs of the corporal are more palpable, then of the spiritual sickness. The parish of his affections is extremely out of order; because Reason his Ordinary doth not visit; nor Memory his Churchwarden present; (or if it at all, Omnia bene.) Neither doth Understanding the Judge censure and determine. He keeps the chamber of his heart locked, that meditation enter not, and though it be sluttish with dust and cobwebs, will not suffer repentance to sweep it. He looseth the fruit of all crosses; and is so far from breaking his heart at a little affliction, that a sharp twitch stirs him not. Whereas a melting heart bleeds at the least blow, he feels not the sword drinking up his blood. Most men sleep nigh half their time, he is never awake: though the Sun shines, he lives in sempiternal night. His soul lies at ease, like the rich mans, and is loth to rise. Custom hath rocked him asleep in the cradle