Andrew Marvell(1621–1678)

A Dialogue between the Soul and Body

Oh, who shall from this dungeon raise

A soul enslaved so many ways6

With bolts of bones that fettered stands

In feet, and manacled in hands;

Here blinded with an eye, and there

Deaf with the drumming of an ear;

A soul hung up, as 'twere, in chains

Of nerves and arteries and veins;

Tortured, besides each other part,

In a vain head and double 0 heart.deceitful

Body

Oh, who shall me deliver whole

From bonds of this tyrannic soul

Which stretched upright, impales me so

That mine own precipice71 go,

And warms and moves this needless frame8—

A fever could but do the same—

And, wanting where9 its spite to try,

H a s m a d e m e live t o let m e die:

A body that c o u l d never rest,

S i n c e this ill spirit it p o s s e s s e d .

Soul

W h a t magic c o u l d m e t h u s c o n f i n e

W i t h i n another's grief to pine

W h e r e w h a t s o e v e r it c o m p l a i n ,

I feel, that c a n n o t feel,1 t h e pain,

A n d all my care itself employs,

That to preserve w h i c h me destroys,

C o n s t r a i n e d not only to e n d u r e

D i s e a s e s , but, what's worse, the cure;

A n d ready oft t h e port2 to gain,

And shipwrecked into health again.

Body

But physic yet c o u l d never r e a c hmedicine

T h e m a l a d i e s t h o u m e dost teach:

W h o m f i r s t the c r a m p o f h o p e d o e s tear,

A n d t h e n t h e palsy shakes of fear;

T h e p e s t i l e n c e of love d o e s heat,

Or hatred's h i d d e n ulcer eat;

Joy's c h e e r f u l m a d n e s s d o e s perplex,

Or sorrow's other m a d n e s s vex;

W h i c h k n o w l e d g e f o r c e s m e t o know,

And memory will not forgo.

W h a t but a soul c o u l d have the wit

T o build m e u p for sin s o f i t ?

S o architects d o square and h e w

G r e e n trees that in t h e forest grew.