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CHAPTER I.

OF PHILOSOPHY.

1. The Introduction.—2. The Definition of Philosophy explained.—3. Ratiocination of the Mind.—4. Properties, what they are.—5. How Properties are known by Generation, and contrarily.—6. The Scope of Philosophy.—7. The Utility of it.—8. The Subject.—9. The Parts of it.—10. The Epilogue.

Philosophy seems to me to be amongst men now, in the same manner as corn and wine are said to have been in the world in ancient time. For from the beginning there were vines and ears of corn growing here and there in the fields; but no care was taken for the planting and sowing of them. Men lived therefore upon acorns; or if any were so bold as to venture upon the eating of those unknown and doubtful fruits, they did it with danger of their health. In like manner, every man brought Philosophy, that is, Natural Reason, into the world with him; for all men can reason to some degree, and concerning some things: but where there is need of a long series of reasons, there most men wander out of the way, and fall into error for want of method, as it were for want of sowing and planting, that is, of improving their reason. And from hence it comes to pass, that they who content themselves with daily experience, which may be likened to feeding upon acorns, and either reject, or not much regard philosophy, are commonly esteemed, and are, indeed, men of sounder judgment than those who, from opinions, though not vulgar, yet full of uncertainty, and carelessly received, do nothing but dispute and wrangle, like men that are not well in their wits. I confess, indeed, that that part of philosophy by which magnitudes and figures are computed, is highly improved. But because I have not observed the like advancement in the other parts of it, my purpose is, as far forth as I am able, to lay open the few and first Elements of Philosophy in general, as so many seeds from which pure and true Philosophy may hereafter spring up by little and little.

I am not ignorant how hard a thing it is to weed out of men's minds such inveterate opinions as have taken root there, and been confirmed in them by the authority of most eloquent writers; especially seeing true (that is, accurate) Philosophy professedly rejects not only the paint and false colours of language, but even the very ornaments and graces of the same; and the first grounds of all science are not only not beautiful, but poor, arid, and, in appearance, deformed. Nevertheless, there being certainly some men, though but few, who are delighted with truth and strength of reason in all things, I thought I might do well to take this pains for the sake even of those few. I proceed therefore to the matter, and take my beginning from the very definition of philosophy, which is this.

2. Philosophy is such knowledge of effects or appearances, as we acquire by true ratiocination from the knowledge we have first of their causes or generation; And again, of such causes or generations as may be from knowing first their effects.

For the better understanding of which definition, we must consider, first, that although Sense and Memory of things, which are common to man and all living creatures, be knowledge, yet because they are given us immediately by nature, and not gotten by ratiocination, they are not philosophy.

Secondly, seeing Experience is nothing but memory; and Prudence, or prospect into the future time, nothing but expectation of such things as we have already had experience of, Prudence also is not to be esteemed philosophy.

By RATIOCINATION, I mean computation. Now to compute, is either to collect the sum of many things that are added together, or to know what remains when one thing is taken out of another. Ratiocination, therefore, is the same with addition and substraction; and if any man add multiplication and division, I will not be against it, seeing multiplication is nothing but addition of equals one to another, and division nothing but a substraction of equals one from another, as often as is possible. So that all ratiocination is comprehended in these two operations of the mind, addition and substraction.

3. But how by the ratiocination of our mind, we add and substract in our silent thoughts, without the use of words, it will be necessary for me to make intelligible by an example or two. If therefore a man see something afar off and obscurely, although no appellation had yet been given to anything, he will, notwithstanding, have the same idea of that thing for which now, by imposing a name on it, we call it body. Again, when, by coming nearer, he sees the same thing thus and thus, now in one place and now in another, he will have a new idea thereof, namely, that for which we now call such a thing animated. Thirdly, when standing nearer, he perceives the figure, hears the voice, and sees other things which are signs of a rational mind, he has a third idea, though it have yet no appellation, namely, that for which we now call anything rational. Lastly, when, by looking fully and distinctly upon it, he conceives all that he has seen as one thing, the idea he has now is compounded of his former ideas, which are put together in the mind in the same order in which these three single names, body, animated, rational, are in speech compounded into this one name, body-animated-rational, or man. In like manner, of the several conceptions of four sides, equality of sides, and right angles, is compounded the conception of a square. For the mind may conceive a figure of four sides without any conception of their equality, and of that equality without conceiving a right angle; and may join together all these single conceptions into one conception or one idea of a square. And thus we see how the conceptions of the mind are compounded. Again, whosoever sees a man standing near him, conceives the whole idea of that man; and if, as he goes away, he follow him with his eyes only, he will lose the idea of those things which were signs of his being rational, whilst, nevertheless, the idea of a body-animated remains still before his eyes, so that the idea of rational is substracted from the whole idea of man, that is to say, of body-animated-rational, and there remains that of body-animated; and a while after, at a greater distance, the idea of animated will be lost, and that of body only will remain; so that at last, when nothing at all can be seen, the whole idea will vanish out of sight. By which examples, I think, it is manifest enough what is the internal ratiocination of the mind without words.

We must not therefore think that computation, that is, ratiocination, has place only in numbers, as if man were distinguished from other living creatures (which is said to have been the opinion of Pythagoras) by nothing but the faculty of numbering; for magnitude, body, motion, time, degrees of quality, action, conception, proportion, speech and names (in which all the kinds of philosophy consist) are capable of addition and substraction. Now such things as we add or substract, that is, which we put into an account, we are said to consider, in Greek λογίζεσθαι, in which language also συλλογίζεσθαι signifies to compute, reason, or reckon.

4. But effects and the appearances of things to sense, are faculties or powers of bodies, which make us distinguish them from one another; that is to say, conceive one body to be equal or unequal, like or unlike to another body; as in the example above, when by coming near enough to any body, we perceive the motion and going of the same, we distinguish it thereby from a tree, a column, and other fixed bodies; and so that motion or going is the property thereof, as being proper to living creatures, and a faculty by which they make us distinguish them from other bodies.

5. How the knowledge of any effect may be gotten from the knowledge of the generation thereof, may easily be understood by the example of a circle: for if there be set before us a plain figure, having, as near as may be, the figure of a circle, we cannot possibly perceive by sense whether it be a true circle or no; than which, nevertheless, nothing is more easy to be known to him that knows first the generation of the propounded figure. For let it be known that the figure was made by the circumduction of a body whereof one end remained unmoved, and we may reason thus; a body carried about, retaining always the same length, applies itself first to one radius, then to another, to a third, a fourth, and successively to all; and, therefore, the same length, from the same point, toucheth the circumference in every part thereof, which is as much as to say, as all the radii are equal. We know, therefore, that from such generation proceeds a figure, from whose one middle point all the extreme points are reached unto by equal radii. And in like manner, by knowing first what figure is set before us, we may come by ratiocination to some generation of the same, though perhaps not that by which it was made, yet that by which it might have been made; for he that knows that a circle has the property above declared, will easily know whether a body carried about, as is said, will generate a circle or no.

6. The end or scope of philosophy is, that we may make use to our benefit of effects formerly seen; or that, by application of bodies to one another, we may produce the like effects of those we conceive in our mind, as far forth as matter, strength, and industry, will permit, for the commodity of human life. For the inward glory and triumph of mind that a man may have for the mastering of some difficult and doubtful matter, or for the discovery of some hidden truth, is not worth so much pains as the study of Philosophy requires; nor need any man care much to teach another what he knows himself, if he think that will be the only benefit of his labour. The end of knowledge is power; and the use of theorems (which, among geometricians, serve for the finding out of properties) is for the construction of problems; and, lastly, the scope of all speculation is the performing of some action, or thing to be done.

7. But what the utility of philosophy is, especially of natural philosophy and geometry, will be best understood by reckoning up the chief commodities of which mankind is capable, and by comparing the manner of life of such as enjoy them, with that of others which want the same. Now, the greatest commodities of mankind are the arts; namely, of measuring matter and motion; of moving ponderous bodies; of architecture; of navigation; of making instruments for all uses; of calculating the celestial motions, the aspects of the stars, and the parts of time; of geography, &c. By which sciences, how great benefits men receive is more easily understood than expressed. These benefits are enjoyed by almost all the people of Europe, by most of those of Asia, and by some of Africa: but the Americans, and they that live near the Poles, do totally want them. But why? Have they sharper wits than these? Have not all men one kind of soul, and the same faculties of mind? What, then, makes this difference, except philosophy? Philosophy, therefore, is the cause of all these benefits. But the utility of moral and civil philosophy is to be estimated, not so much by the commodities we have by knowing these sciences, as by the calamities we receive from not knowing them. Now, all such calamities as may be avoided by human industry, arise from war, but chiefly from civil war; for from this proceed slaughter, solitude, and the want of all things. But the cause of war is not that men are willing to have it; for the will has nothing for object but good, at least that which seemeth good. Nor is it from this, that men know not that the effects of war are evil; for who is there that thinks not poverty and loss of life to be great evils? The cause, therefore, of civil war is, that men know not the causes neither of war nor peace, there being but few in the world that have learned those duties which unite and keep men in peace, that is to say, that have learned the rules of civil life sufficiently. Now, the knowledge of these rules is moral philosophy. But why have they not learned them, unless for this reason, that none hitherto have taught them in a clear and exact method? For what shall we say? Could the ancient masters of Greece, Egypt, Rome, and others, persuade the unskilful multitude to their innumerable opinions concerning the nature of their gods, which they themselves knew not whether they were true or false, and which were indeed manifestly false and absurd; and could they not persuade the same multitude to civil duty, if they themselves had understood it? Or shall those few writings of geometricians which are extant, be thought sufficient for the taking away of all controversy in the matters they treat of, and shall those innumerable and huge volumes of ethics be thought unsufficient, if what they teach had been certain and well demonstrated? What, then, can be imagined to be the cause that the writings of those men have increased science, and the writings of these have increased nothing but words, saving that the former were written by men that knew, and the latter by such as knew not, the doctrine they taught only for ostentation of their wit and eloquence? Nevertheless, I deny not but the reading of some such books is very delightful; for they are most eloquently written, and contain many clear, wholesome and choice sentences, which yet are not universally true, though by them universally pronounced. From whence it comes to pass, that the circumstances of times, places, and persons being changed, they are no less frequently made use of to confirm wicked men in their purposes, than to make them understand the precepts of civil duties. Now that which is chiefly wanting in them, is a true and certain rule of our actions, by which we might know whether that we undertake be just or unjust. For it is to no purpose to be bidden in every thing to do right, before there be a certain rule and measure of right established, which no man hitherto hath established. Seeing, therefore, from the not knowing of civil duties, that is, from the want of moral science, proceed civil wars, and the greatest calamities of mankind, we may very well attribute to such science the production of the contrary commodities. And thus much is sufficient, to say nothing of the praises and other contentment proceeding from philosophy, to let you see the utility of the same in every kind thereof.

8. The subject of Philosophy, or the matter it treats of, is every body of which we can conceive any generation, and which we may, by any consideration thereof, compare with other bodies, or which is capable of composition and resolution; that is to say, every body of whose generation or properties we can have any knowledge. And this may be deduced from the definition of philosophy, whose profession it is to search out the properties of bodies from their generation, or their generation from their properties; and, therefore, where there is no generation or property, there is no philosophy. Therefore it excludes Theology, I mean the doctrine of God, eternal, ingenerable, incomprehensible, and in whom there is nothing neither to divide nor compound, nor any generation to be conceived.

It excludes the doctrine of angels, and all such things as are thought to be neither bodies nor properties of bodies; there being in them no place neither for composition nor division, nor any capacity of more and less, that is to say, no place for ratiocination.

It excludes history, as well natural as political, though most useful (nay necessary) to philosophy; because such knowledge is but experience, or authority, and not ratiocination.

It excludes all such knowledge as is acquired by Divine inspiration, or revelation, as not derived to us by reason, but by Divine grace in an instant, and, as it were, by some sense supernatural.

It excludes not only all doctrines which are false, but such also as are not well-grounded; for whatsoever we know by right ratiocination, can neither be false nor doubtful; and, therefore, astrology, as it is now held forth, and all such divinations rather than sciences, are excluded.

Lastly, the doctrine of God's worship is excluded from philosophy, as being not to be known by natural reason, but by the authority of the Church; and as being the object of faith, and not of knowledge.

9. The principal parts of philosophy are two. For two chief kinds of bodies, and very different from one another, offer themselves to such as search after their generation and properties; one whereof being the work of nature, is called a natural body, the other is called a commonwealth, and is made by the wills and agreement of men. And from these spring the two parts of philosophy, called natural and civil. But seeing that, for the knowledge of the properties of a commonwealth, it is necessary first to know the dispositions, affections, and manners of men, civil philosophy is again commonly divided into two parts, whereof one, which treats of men's dispositions and manners, is called ethics; and the other, which takes cognizance of their civil duties, is called politics, or simply civil philosophy. In the first place, therefore (after I have set down such premises as appertain to the nature of philosophy in general), I will discourse of bodies natural; in the second, of the dispositions and manners of men; and in the third, of the civil duties of subjects.

10. To conclude; seeing there may be many who will not like this my definition of philosophy, and will say, that, from the liberty which a man may take of so defining as seems best to himself, he may conclude any thing from any thing (though I think it no hard matter to demonstrate that this definition of mine agrees with the sense of all men); yet, lest in this point there should be any cause of dispute betwixt me and them, I here undertake no more than to deliver the elements of that science by which the effects of anything may be found out from the known generation of the same, or contrarily, the generation from the effects; to the end that they who search after other philosophy, may be admonished to seek it from other principles.

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CHAPTER II.

OF NAMES.

1. The necessity of sensible Moniments or Marks for the help of Memory: a Mark defined.—2. The necessity of Marks for the signification of the conceptions of the Mind.—3. Names supply both those necessities.—4. The Definition of a Name.—5. Names are Signs not of Things, but of our Cogitations.—6. What it is we give Names to.—7. Names Positive and Negative.—8. Contradictory Names.—9. A Common Name.—10. Names of the First and Second Intention.—11. Universal, Particular, Individual, and Indefinite Names.—12. Names Univocal and Equivocal.—13. Absolute and Relative Names.—14. Simple and Compounded Names.—15. A Predicament described.—16. Some things to be noted concerning Predicaments.

1. How unconstant and fading men's thoughts are, and how much the recovery of them depends upon chance, there is none but knows by infallible experience in himself. For no man is able to remember quantities without sensible and present measures, nor colours without sensible and present patterns, nor number without the names of numbers disposed in order and learned by heart. So that whatsoever a man has put together in his mind by ratiocination without such helps, will presently slip from him, and not be revocable but by beginning his ratiocination anew. From which it follows, that, for the acquiring of philosophy, some sensible moniments are necessary, by which our past thoughts may be not only reduced, but also registered every one in its own order.| A Mark defined| These moniments I call MARKS, namely, sensible things taken at pleasure, that, by the sense of them, such thoughts may be recalled to our mind as are like those thoughts for which we took them.

2. Again, though some one man, of how excellent a wit soever, should spend all his time partly in reasoning, and partly in inventing marks for the help of his memory, and advancing himself in learning; who sees not that the benefit he reaps to himself will not be much, and to others none at all? For unless he communicate his notes with others, his science will perish with him. But if the same notes be made common to many, and so one man's inventions be taught to others, sciences will thereby be increased to the general good of mankind. It is therefore necessary, for the acquiring of philosophy, that there be certain signs, by which what one man finds out may be manifested and made known to others. Now, those things we call SIGNS are the antecedents of their consequents, and the consequents of their antecedents, as often as we observe them to go before or follow after in the same manner. For example, a thick cloud is a sign of rain to follow, and rain a sign that a cloud has gone before, for this reason only, that we seldom see clouds without the consequence of rain, nor rain at any time but when a cloud has gone before. And of signs, some are natural, whereof I have already given an example, others are arbitrary, namely, those we make choice of at our own pleasure, as a bush hung up, signifies that wine is to be sold there; a stone set in the ground signifies the bound of a field; and words so and so connected, signify the cogitations and motions of our mind. The difference, therefore, betwixt marks and signs is this, that we make those for our own use, but these for the use of others.

3. Words so connected as that they become signs of our thoughts, are called SPEECH, of which every part is a name. But seeing (as is said) both marks and signs are necessary for the acquiring of philosophy, (marks by which we may remember our own thoughts, and signs by which we may make our thoughts known to others), names do both these offices; but they serve for marks before they be used as signs. For though a man were alone in the world, they would be useful to him in helping him to remember; but to teach others, (unless there were some others to be taught) of no use at all. Again, names, though standing singly by themselves, are marks, because they serve to recal our own thoughts to mind; but they cannot be signs, otherwise than by being disposed and ordered in speech as parts of the same. For example, a man may begin with a word, whereby the hearer may frame an idea of something in his mind, which, nevertheless, he cannot conceive to be the idea which was in the mind of him that spake, but that he would say something which began with that word, though perhaps not as by itself, but as part of another word. So that the nature of a name consists principally in this, that it is a mark taken for memory's sake; but it serves also by accident to signify and make known to others what we remember ourselves, and, therefore, I will define it thus:

4. A NAME is a word taken at pleasure to serve for a mark, which may raise in our mind a thought like to some thought we had before, and which being pronounced to others, may be to them a sign of what thought the speaker had, or had not before in his mind. And it is for brevity's sake that I suppose the original of names to be arbitrary, judging it a thing that may be assumed as unquestionable. For considering that new names are daily made, and old ones laid aside; that diverse nations use different names, and how impossible it is either to observe similitude, or make any comparison betwixt a name and a thing, how can any man imagine that the names of things were imposed from their natures? For though some names of living creatures and other things, which our first parents used, were taught by God himself; yet they were by him arbitrarily imposed, and afterwards, both at the Tower of Babel, and since, in process of time, growing everywhere out of use, are quite forgotten, and in their room have succeeded others, invented and received by men at pleasure. Moreover, whatsoever the common use of words be, yet philosophers, who were to teach their knowledge to others, had always the liberty, and sometimes they both had and will have a necessity, of taking to themselves such names as they please for the signifying of their meaning, if they would have it understood. Nor had mathematicians need to ask leave of any but themselves to name the figures they invented, parabolas, hyperboles, cissoeides, quadratices, &c. or to call one magnitude A, another B.

5. But seeing names ordered in speech (as is defined) are signs of our conceptions, it is manifest they are not signs of the things themselves; for that the sound of this word stone should be the sign of a stone, cannot be understood in any sense but this, that he that hears it collects that he that pronounces it thinks of a stone. And, therefore, that disputation, whether names signify the matter or form, or something compounded of both, and other like subtleties of the metaphysics, is kept up by erring men, and such as understand not the words they dispute about.

6. Nor, indeed, is it at all necessary that every name should be the name of something. For as these, a man, a tree, a stone, are the names of the things themselves, so the images of a man, of a tree, and of a stone, which are represented to men sleeping, have their names also, though they be not things, but only fictions and phantasms of things. For we can remember these; and, therefore, it is no less necessary that they have names to mark and signify them, than the things themselves. Also this word future is a name, but no future thing has yet any being, nor do we know whether that which we call future, shall ever have a being or no. Nevertheless, seeing we use in our mind to knit together things past with those that are present, the name future serves to signify such knitting together. Moreover, that which neither is, nor has been, nor ever shall, or ever can be, has a name, namely, that which neither is nor has been, &c.; or more briefly this, impossible. To conclude; this word nothing is a name, which yet cannot be the name of any thing: for when, for example, we substract 2 and 3 from 5, and so nothing remaining, we would call that substraction to mind, this speech nothing remains, and in it the word nothing is not unuseful. And for the same reason we say truly, less than nothing remains, when we substract more from less; for the mind feigns such remains as these for doctrine's sake, and desires, as often as is necessary, to call the same to memory. But seeing every name has some relation to that which is named, though that which we name be not always a thing that has a being in nature, yet it is lawful for doctrine's sake to apply the word thing to whatsoever we name; as if it were all one whether that thing be truly existent, or be only feigned.

7. The first distinction of names is, that some are positive, or affirmative, others negative, which are also called privative and indefinite. Positive are such as we impose for the likeness, equality, or identity of the things we consider; negative, for the diversity, unlikeness, or inequality of the same. Examples of the former are, a man, a philosopher; for a man denotes any one of a multitude of men, and a philosopher, any one of many philosophers, by reason of their similitude; also, Socrates is a positive name, because it signifies always one and the same man. Examples of negatives are such positives as have the negative particle not added to them, as not-man, not-philosopher. But positives were before negatives; for otherwise there could have been no use at all of these. For when the name of white was imposed upon certain things, and afterwards upon other things, the names of black, blue, transparent, &c. the infinite dissimilitudes of these with white could not be comprehended in any one name, save that which had in it the negation of white, that is to say, the name not-white, or some other equivalent to it, in which the word white is repeated, such as unlike to white, &c. And by these negative names, we take notice ourselves, and signify to others what we have not thought of.

8. Positive and negative names are contradictory to one another, so that they cannot both be the name of the same thing. Besides, of contradictory names, one is the name of anything whatsoever; for whatsoever is, is either man, or not-man, white or not-white, and so of the rest. And this is so manifest, that it needs no farther proof or explication; for they that say the same thing cannot both be, and not be, speak obscurely; but they that say, whatsoever is, either is, or is not, speak also absurdly and ridiculously. The certainty of this axiom, viz. of two contradictory names, one is the name of anything whatsoever, the other not, is the original and foundation of all ratiocination, that is, of all philosophy; and therefore it ought to be so exactly propounded, that it may be of itself clear and perspicuous to all men; as indeed it is, saving to such, as reading the long discourses made upon this subject by the writers of metaphysics (which they believe to be some egregious learning) think they understand not, when they do.

9. Secondly, of names, some are common to many things, as a man, a tree; others proper to one thing, as he that writ the Iliad, Homer, this man, that man. And a common name, being the name of many things severally taken, but not collectively of all together (as man is not the name of all mankind, but of every one, as of Peter, John, and the rest severally) is therefore called an universal name; and therefore this word universal is never the name of any thing existent in nature, nor of any idea or phantasm formed in the mind, but always the name of some word or name; so that when a living creature, a stone, a spirit, or any other thing, is said to be universal, it is not to be understood, that any man, stone, &c. ever was or can be universal, but only that these words, living creature, stone, &c. are universal names, that is, names common to many things; and the conceptions answering them in our mind, are the images and phantasms of several living creatures, or other things. And therefore, for the understanding of the extent of an universal name, we need no other faculty but that of our imagination, by which we remember that such names bring sometimes one thing, sometimes another, into our mind. Also of common names, some are more, some less common. More common, is that which is the name of more things; less common, the name of fewer things; as living creature is more common than man, or horse, or lion, because it comprehends them all: and therefore a more common name, in respect of a less common, is called the genus, or a general name; and this in respect of that, the species, or a special name.

10. And from hence proceeds the third distinction of names, which is, that some are called names of the first, others of the second intention. Of the first intention are the names of things, a man, stone, &c.: of the second are the names of names and speeches, as universal, particular, genus, species, syllogism, and the like. But it is hard to say why those are called names of the first, and these of the second intention, unless perhaps it was first intended by us to give names to those things which are of daily use in this life, and afterwards to such things as appertain to science, that is, that our second intention was to give names to names. But whatsoever the cause hereof may be, yet this is manifest, that genus, species, definition, &c. are names of words and names only; and therefore to put genus and species for things, and definition for the nature of any thing, as the writers of metaphysics have done, is not right, seeing they be only significations of what we think of the nature of things.

11. Fourthly, some names are of certain and determined, others of uncertain and undetermined signification. Of determined and certain signification is, first, that name which is given to any one thing by itself, and is called an individual name; as Homer, this tree, that living creature, &c. Secondly that which has any of these words, all, every, both, either, or the like added to it; and it is therefore called an universal name, because it signifies every one of those things to which it is common; and of certain signification for this reason, that he which hears, conceives in his mind the same thing that he which speaks would have him conceive. Of indefinite signification is, first, that name which has the word some, or the like added to it, and is called a particular name; secondly, a common name set by itself without any note either of universality or particularity, as man, stone, and is called an indefinite name; but both particular and indefinite names are of uncertain signification, because the hearer knows not what thing it is the speaker would have him conceive; and therefore in speech, particular and indefinite names are to be esteemed equivalent to one another. But these words, all, every, some, &c. which denote universality and particularity, are not names, but parts only of names; so that every man, and that man which the hearer conceives in his mind, are all one; and some man, and that man which the speaker thought of, signify the same. From whence it is evident, that the use of signs of this kind, is not for a man's own sake, or for his getting of knowledge by his own private meditation (for every man has his own thoughts sufficiently determined without such helps as these) but for the sake of others; that is, for the teaching and signifying of our conceptions to others; nor were they invented only to make us remember, but to make us able to discourse with others.

12. Fifthly, names are usually distinguished into univocal and equivocal. Univocal are those which in the same train of discourse signify always the same thing; but equivocal those which mean sometimes one thing and sometimes another. Thus, the name triangle is said to be univocal, because it is always taken in the same sense; and parabola to be equivocal, for the signification it has sometimes of allegory or similitude, and sometimes of a certain geometrical figure. Also every metaphor is by profession equivocal. But this distinction belongs not so much to names, as to those that use names, for some use them properly and accurately for the finding out of truth; others draw them from their proper sense, for ornament or deceit.

13. Sixthly, of names, some are absolute, others relative. Relative are such as are imposed for some comparison, as father, son, cause, effect, like, unlike, equal, unequal, master, servant, &c. And those that signify no comparison at all are absolute names. But, as it was noted above, that universality is to be attributed to words and names only, and not to things, so the same is to be said of other distinctions of names; for no things are either univocal or equivocal, or relative or absolute. There is also another distinction of names into concrete and abstract; but because abstract names proceed from proposition, and can have no place where there is no affirmation, I shall speak of them hereafter.

14. Lastly, there are simple and compounded names. But here it is to be noted, that a name is not taken in philosophy, as in grammar, for one single word, but for any number of words put together to signify one thing; for among philosophers sentient animated body passes but for one name, being the name of every living creature, which yet, among grammarians, is accounted three names. Also a simple name is not here distinguished from a compounded name by a preposition, as in grammar. But I call a simple name, that which in every kind is the most common or most universal; and that a compounded name, which by the joining of another name to it, is made less universal, and signifies that more conceptions than one were in the mind, for which that latter name was added. For example, in the conception of man (as is shown in the former chapter.) First, he is conceived to be something that has extension, which is marked by the word body. Body, therefore, is a simple name, being put for that first single conception; afterwards, upon the sight of such and such motion, another conception arises, for which he is called an animated body; and this I here call a compounded name, as I do also the name animal, which is equivalent to an animated body. And, in the same manner, an animated rational body, as also a man, which is equivalent to it, is a more compounded name. And by this we see how the composition of conceptions in the mind is answerable to the composition of names; for, as in the mind one idea or phantasm succeeds to another, and to this a third; so to one name is added another and another successively, and of them all is made one compounded name. Nevertheless we must not think bodies which are without the mind, are compounded in the same manner, namely, that there is in nature a body, or any other imaginable thing existent, which at the first has no magnitude, and then, by the addition of magnitude, comes to have quantity, and by more or less quantity to have density or rarity; and again, by the addition of figure, to be figurate, and after this, by the injection of light or colour, to become lucid or coloured; though such has been the philosophy of many.

15. The writers of logic have endeavoured to digest the names of all the kinds of things into certain scales or degrees, by the continual subordination of names less common, to names more common. In the scale of bodies they put in the first and highest place body simply, and in the next place under it less common names, by which it may be more limited and determined, namely animated and inanimated, and so on till they come to individuals. In like manner, in the scale of quantities, they assign the first place to quantity, and the next to line, superficies, and solid, which are names of less latitude; and these orders or scales of names they usually call predicaments and categories. And of this ordination not only positive, but negative names also are capable; which may be exemplified by such forms of the predicaments as follow: