The Ephesian and Cimmerian matrons two notable examples of the power of love & wit.

THE Mysteries and Miracles OF LOVE.

SECT. I.

LOVE is a Ghest sooner entertain'd, than per∣ceived; and yet sooner perceived than known, and much easier known than under∣stood; better understood, than defined or described. As if it challen∣ged only the Heart for its proper a∣partment, and disdained any remove up into the Brain: as if it took delight to be felt not shewn: as if being possessed the recesses of the heart, it feared to be ejected thence, if it once came neer the Tongue. Like Holy Writ, it ad∣mits

of no Interpreter but it self: nor do we come to know it by either prae∣cepts or examples; but by Infusion. You may affi••m safely, that Cupid is not only blind, but also dumb: making all parts of the body vocal, except the tongue. Hence it is, that Lovers are more eloquent in their sighs than in their words, as if no messengers were so fit to convey their sentiments, as their vital breath: and like Paphian Doves, they grone forth living Epistles. Nay, they discourse together silently by the rhetorick of their fingers, and weave dialogues in Chaplets. By affable nods, and darted smiles, the vocal Am∣bassadors of desire, they treat about their union; and read each others Soul in glances. Their Colloquies, like those of Angels, are made by intuition: and they express themselves also, like them, not by the Intellect, but the Will.

Oblique intuens inde nutibus — Nutibus mutuis inducens in errorem mentem puellae: Et illa contra nutibus mutuis juvenis Leandri, quod amorem non renuit, &c.

is Musaeus his description of the Eye∣parly between Leander and Hero. Some∣times

fixing their wandring countenan∣ces, as upon strangers, while they open∣ly decline and renounce acquaintance, they become secretly familiar. Some∣times their contracted brows threaten displeasure; but at the same time they contract them with such sweetness, that they rather invite than discourage; and their very frowns are obliging. Some∣times their Souls interchangeably sally forth at their Eyes, and steal kisses at a distance; and then return home again triumphing in their invisible thefts. Thus both sides gain, yet neither lo∣ses; both lose and both gain. Their chief aim is, to be surprised: and yet their chief pleasure and glory is, not to be perceived. Thus that which is so often brought into the Theatre, flies all spectators, and acts in its own person. These Divine Confabulators, as if pla∣ced above the lawes of sense, by most certain Auguries divine each others wishes, and search each others heart without dissecting the breast. They are a kind of Seers, that behold the desires of their Correspondent, as it were spectres; which like Catoptrical Images, are not perceived but by the same art, that created them: or, like the Deities

of old issuing from their Statues, they inspire the person, to whom they speak; as if two Minds met to animate one Body, and conversed together with no less silence, than one uses to converse with it self alone. Of all our affections, this alone knows not to be expressed; and the sacred rites thereof (as those of the most ancient Gods of the Heathen) are performed in the dark. Though the passion be of it self innocent, yet it is alwayes conjoyned with secret shame: and the same blushes that betray our flame, strive to hide it.

Alterno facies sibi dat responfa rubore, Et tener affectum prodit utrique pudor;

as that merry-conceited Arnulphus, Episcopus Lexoviensis, hath well ex∣pressed in a facete Epigram of his. Every Love hath its Flammeum, as well as Hymen: and at the Elusinean sacrifi∣ces both sexes are veild. All the Vo∣taries of Venus, as well as her darling Aeneas, walk surrounded with clouds; and they frequent even publick Thea∣tres invisibly. Nay Cupid himself, not contented with a single Veil, con∣trives also Ambushes for more secresy: a••d oftner takes in Hearts by stratagem

and surprize, than by storm. Thus He that composed an•• maintains the World in order, left himself in confusi∣on; dwelling in a retreat of the antient darkness, and primitive Chaos. ¶.

SECT. II.

HIs Mother too avoids the light e∣ver since he was born; as being as much ashamed of his childish treache∣ries, as offended with the Sun, for dis∣covering her in the arms of Mars. She obscures her self in a Labyrinth, and ad∣mits no Eye to prie into her ••loset: nay, in her chiefest solaces she uses to shut her own eyes, as being jealous lest they should discover too much of her divinity. She is the true Sphinx, that subdues and destroyes by a Riddle: more, she makes every man a Riddle to himself, while being by contrary passi∣ons agitated, and hurried up and down by the flux and reflux of his own vio∣lent thoughts, he at once finds himself a Captive, and strives to be a Conqueror. And this the capricious Lad, her Son, assists her to effect; that we poor Mor∣tals may believe, she was begotten be∣twixt the winds and waves in a Tempest.

No wonder then, if Love seem Aenig∣matical and full of contradictions. It is not easily intelligible, how the same person can at the same time both serve and be free; have all his Faculties de∣voted to the pleasure of another, and yet preserve the command of his own Will; make an absolute resignation of him∣self, and yet pretend not only to Liber∣ty, but to Dominion: and yet Love doth soon reconcile these repugnances; and bring his Subjects to govern by obedi∣ence, teaching them, like the Freed∣men of some Roman Emperours, obse∣quii titulo Dominis imperare, to rule their Soveraigns will by observance of it, and alter their counsels by obsequiousness and complacency.

Nor is it less difficult to conceive, that one can die, and instantly revive a∣gain; yea, be alive and dead at once; or, like the Phoenix, build his own both funeral and vital fire, out of which he reassumes a more vigorous and Youthful Being, than what the flames consumed. Yet nothing is more frequent among Lovers; whom the miraculous Chymi∣stry of Love, by a most pleasant Palin∣genesis, restores from their ashes to their primitive state and forme.

A man would think at first, that no two things in Nature are more incom∣patible, more inconsistent, more reci∣procally destructive, than those two contrary Passions, Love and Hate; the former causing sweet and agreeable mo∣tions in the spirits, and blood, and fi∣bres of the Heart; the later, unequal, harsh and offensive ones: the one tending to Complacency and Vnion; the other to Abhorrence and Flight: the one aim∣ing at the Felicity, the other at the Destruction of its Object: but upon a se∣cond and more serious consideration of the matter, he shall find, that in the breast of even the most ardent and re∣fined Inamourato these two so professed Enemies are become not reconciled, but Twins, and those too not such as Castor and Pollux, rising and setting alternate∣ly, but like Lazarus and his Brother, growing together, so that one is not only an individual Companion, but also an Appendix, or rather an integrant part of his fellow. For, the Servant alwayes wishes his Mistress less Happy than she is, that so his affection may ap∣pear more pure, more sincere, and de∣termined upon her Person alone. Is she wise and discreet; He presently repro∣ch••s

the Stars, that favour'd her with so strong a defence; a•• conceiving, that if her Brain were less sound, her Heart would be more tender, and that if she had less wit, himself would be less subject to her Contempt. Is she in Health, He secretly invocates Iove to afflict her with Sickness, that he may have that occasion to demonstrate his grief, his tenderness, his sympathy. Is she Rich, He cannot forbear to wi••h her in Want, that he might endow her with his For∣tune. Is she at Liberty, He longs to see her a Captive, that he may merit her favour by hazarding all in her re∣demption. Is her Fame clear and imma∣culate; how glad would he be some li∣centious tongue would defile her Ho∣nour, that he might wash away the stains, though with his blood. Is her Birth and Quality n••ble; he would fain degrade her, that she might derive all her Dignity from the Generosity of his Love. In a word, in some sort or other He wishes her Miserable, that he may have the glory to relieve her, and that her own Necessity may draw, rather than his Courtship and Observance invite her to his embraces. He had rather be her Sanctuary, than her Conqueror. Now

is not here a certain Malignity mixt with Benevolence; Zeal tempered with Hate; Inhumanity proceeding from excess of Kindness; Cruelty conjoyned with the greatest Charity? Yet such is the Con∣stitution of Love. Cupid has no darts headed with pure Gold. What God soever made and tippd his Shafts, ser∣ved him as the 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 (as Rivaltus calls him) the treacherous Artist did Hiero, King of Syracuse in casting his Crown, put in a great deal of Copper a∣mong the Gold. Which is perhaps one reason why the wounds of Lovers are so painful and apt to fester; it being the na∣ture of Brass ••o ulcerate and breed Can∣cers. I think it therefore no blasphemy against the so much adored Divinity of Love, to affirm, that it always hath some alloy of that Devil, Malice: and that no Man love's without Indignation. Especi∣ally when I reflect upon this, that the torments he suffers cannot but force him even against his will to execrate his fair Tormentor; to be angry with the Thief, that robb'd him of himself; to wish that bright flame obscured or ex∣tinct, that burns his wings, though, like the foolish Butterfly, he at the same time ceases not to flutter about it, and

(as a Modern Wit finely expresses it) beato frui necis autore, to enjoy his Mur∣derer. Nor is it the poor neglected and despised Lover, that alone hath rea∣son to complain of, and reproach his Mistress; even the most prosperous and triumphant feels disquiet and anguish enough to cause Regret, which is a kind of Anger.

— Dolor, querelae, Lamentatio, lachrymae perennes, Languor, anxietas, amaritudo, Aut si triste magis potest quid esse, Hos tu das comites Naeera vitae;

was the complaint of a Lover in Plautus, even after victory: and Poets them∣selves, none of the severest censurers of this Heroic passion, call it suavem amariciem, dolentiam delectabilem, hi∣lare tormentum. Nay, old Plautus so far condemned it, as he could not hold from crying out, Credo ego, ad homini•• carnificinam Amorem inventum esse. If Love then be so full of gall and anxi∣ety, who can suffer it without secret de∣testation? who without reflecting upon the Author of his perturbations with displeasure and offence. Certainly the most gentle, the most patient, the sweetest temper, when u••ged and pro∣vok'd

by these inward gripes and pangs, will hardly be able to refrain from ex∣claiming, with Phaedria in Terence

—O Thais, Thais! utinam esset mihi. Pars aequa amoris tecum; ac pariter fieret, Vt a••t hoc tibi doleret itidem, ut mihi dolet, Aut ego istuc abs te factum nihili penderem.

What's more common among Lo∣vers, than thus to wish their torments transplanted from their own into their Mistresses breast? and is not that to curse them? which the most savage na∣ture would not do without indignation. It was not without good reason then, that Aristotle (2 Rhetor.) placed Love in the Irassible part of the Soul; nor is it out of affectation of being Paradoxi∣cal, but Zeal to Truth, that I have here asserted, That no man can Love without indignation, which will appear somewhat more perspicuous, if we con∣sider, that indignation is always accom∣panied with either Commiseration or Ir∣rision. For, to do evil, is in some sort to suffer evil; and therefore some men, when they observe any one to do evil, joyn to their indignation against, a Com∣miseration for the doer, while others on

the same occasion, mix Irrision with their Indignation; according as they stand well or ill affected to the person doing amiss; so that the laughter of Democritus, and the weeping of Hera∣clitus might proceed from one and the same cause; and Commiseration, which is a degree of Love, may go hand in hand with Indignation.

SECT. III.

ANother of Loves, Problems is this; that the most happy Lovers find their very enjoyments unsatisfactory, their joys insincere. To them it is dif∣ficult, to love; not to love, more dif∣ficult; most difficult to be possess'd of what they love. Be the Saint never so propitious, never so obliging; still the vot••ry continues his supplications, his importunity, and not contented with all she can grant, or he receive, he seeks for more. The miserable Mind is affl••cted no less with the sucess, than with the vehemence of its desires; and like the Misers, continues poor in the midst of Wealth; after a feast it riseth empty, retaining that sweet torment, suspirare & cupere. As i•• they had as

little use of their Memory, as of their Reason and Will, forgetting the short∣ness, the emptiness of past enjoyments, they furiously hunt after mor••. Memo∣riae minimum tribuit, quisquis spei pluri∣mum. Every one puts a higher value up∣on his Hopes, than upon his Attainments. As their desires so afflict, that they at the same time please and delight, so their joys are infested with such calami∣ties, that they excruciate. Here (if you please) let us stand a minute or two, and consider how this can be. The pas∣sion of Ioy (you know) always fol∣lows upon a tickling of the senses by some agreeable object; and its contrary Grief, upon the offence and grating of them: and yet Grief may sometimes be sustain'd with joy; and there are, on the other side, some certain titillati∣ons that offend. But the true reason why Joy ariseth for the most part from titillation, I conceive to be this; that the pleasure of all sensation consisteth in the Objects causing in the Nerves and Brain some motion, which might violate and hurt them, in case they were not firm and tense enough to re∣sist it; This resistence makes upon the centre of the brain an impression, which

being instituted by Nature, to signifie and a••test the good constitution and strength of the Nerves, represents th•• same to the Soul as a Good pertaining to her, so far forth at least, as she is con∣joyn'd to the Body; and by that means excites joy in her; the same reason serves also to explain, why naturally it is plea∣sant to every man, to feel himself com∣moved to all sorts of Passions, yea even to sadness and hatred, when those Af∣fections arise only from the various e∣vents represented in Theatres, or other the like subjects, wherein he is not con∣cerned. Which, because they can no way harm us, seem to tickle the soul by touching her. And Pain ordinarily produceth Grief, because that offense of the sense, which is called Pain, a∣riseth from some Action so violent, as to hurt the Nerves: of which the soul instantly becoming sensible, looks up∣on it as an Evil extending to her al∣so, and thereupon is affected with Grief; unless in some such cases, where she is strongly diverted by expectation of a greater Good from that Evil. As Mar∣tyrs have exulted in their torments, not that they were insensible of them, but because their souls were possessed with

a confident hope that those short pains would produce eternal pleasures.

Upon this consideration perhaps, or some other not much different from it, it was, that Seneca thus expostulates with his dear Lucilius, about his im∣moderate sorrow for the death of their common Friend, Flaccus (Epist. 63.) Quae••is unde lamentationes, unde immo∣dici fletus? per lachrymas argumenta desiderij quaerimus: & dolorem non sequi∣mur, sed oftendimus▪ nemo tristis sibi est. est aliqua & doloris ambitio. The summe whereof is this, that we find a certain pleasure in Grieving; and that that pleasure is grounded upon Ambiti∣on (which is neerly allied to Love) to make it known to others, how well we loved that for which we grieve. To bring all this our present argument. You see then, that Joy and Grief are no 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, no incompatible Passions, no such Enemies but that sometimes at least they may dwell together in one breast. If so▪ why may not the Joys of Lovers be commixt with G••ief? why may not their Fruitions be unsatisfacto∣ry? I could fill a whole Page with the names of such, whose flames raged more by extinction, and whose love

was so far from languishing, that it grew more strong and violent by the posses∣sion of its object. Cupid is the son of Venus, you know: and nursed by his Mothers Milk; and our friend Chaucer therefore wisely fixes the Epoche of Aeneas and Dido's love on the Iubile they celebrated in the Cave, whither the tempest of Thunder and Lightning had forced them to retreat.

And shortly fro the Tempest her to save▪ This noble Quene fled into a Cave. And with her went this Aeneas also; I wot not, with them if there went any mo. The Auctour maketh of it no mention. And here began the deep affection Betwixt hem two. this was the first mor∣rowe Of her gladness, and gi••ning of her sorowe▪

The Reason is, that the Lover, appre∣hending no fruition total, no possession intire, supposeth some further good in the object, than what his former enjoy∣ment made him acquainted withall: nor doth he propose to himself meerly a Continuation of the Good he hath en∣joy'd; because whoever wisheth the con∣tinuation of a Good, considers it not as a thing present, but to come, and con∣sequently

as a thing which yet he doth not know; for no man can know what is not. So that the wandering Love, which hunts after variety, and the Con∣stant, that is determined and fixt upon one individual object, are twinns of the same birth, and have one and the same original: the latter affecting Novelty no less than the former. Here's all the dif∣ference; one pursues Novelty in a sin∣gle person: the other in a multitude: but both are equally insatiate. O infe∣licem stultitiam! O insaniam volunta∣riam! what strange infelicity is this, voti compotem voto non posse frui, to have, and at the same time to want? The Covetuous mans curse, is to possess and not enjoy: the Lovers greater to enjoy and not enjoy; utpote cui majo∣ra, quám quae tota simul indulgeri fas sit, gaudia quaeruntur. The wise man (Ec∣clesiasticus 30. and 20.) describing the misery of the one, compares it to the other: 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, as the Septuagint. he beholds his treasure with greedy eyes, and sighs, as an Eu∣nuch embraceth a Virgin and sighs, sighs most bitterly. So our Lover sighs, and enjoys, and still sighs. And to speak

stri••tly, in this sense Hercules himself, who deflowred fifty Virgins in a night, was but an Eunuch for all that, so we are all, and our Ladies Virgins; we embrace and sigh; still unsatisfied, still coveting, quod nec assequi, nec scire datur, more than the nature of the thing can afford.

Notwithstanding this imperfection of our chiefest solace, I am so far from accusing Nature of improvidence or unkindness, in making Love of this composition; that on the contrary, I judge it to be an argument of her Wis∣dom and Indulgence. Because our plea∣sure is endeared by its being incom∣plete; and our appetite would soon be turned into loathing, if once satiated. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉; is a Maxime of the Indian Gymnosophist, in his speech to Alexander the Great, re∣corded by Palladius de Bragmanibus, not long since set forth by the learned Knight Sir Edward Bisse, Clarenciux King at Arms. To this purpose it was most elegantly said by a mode••n Wit, writing upon the same subject; huic af∣fectui soll••citè, prospexit Namen, dum gaudio immiscuit tremorem & sollicitu∣dinem,

ut delicatior exiret voluptas. All desire indeed, is grounded upon want, and want implies imperfection: yet the desire whereof we are now speaking, being mostly an effect of fulness, hath such a 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, such a complacentia an∣nex'd to it, that few complain of it as an imperfection. Nor are there many of Plato's mind in this particular, who (as Marsilius Ficinus in his life) thought it enough only once to sacrifice to Na∣ture. Most are as much pleas'd to pos∣sess this desire, as to satisfie it: yea, to speak freely, the desi••e is it self some satisfaction; aequali voluptate afficiunt, & quod adest jam, & quod futurum spe∣ratur; nam dulcis desiderii dens interim mordet, & dum periculum facis, speras; was the merry Lucians saying to his Th••omnestes in 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 And I am apt to believe, it was upon this ve••y motive, that Luther openly professed, that with∣out the consolati••ncula creaturulae he could not live contented.

SECT. IV.

YEt more Aenigmata, more per∣plexing Difficulties in Love. This Affe••tion, which composeth all other commotions of the soul, which reconciles Men, wild Beasts, and Phi∣losophers, is yet at variance with it self; being founded upon a discordant con∣nexion of unlike and asymbolical na∣tures, it maintains its power by a civil Warre; and, like some pictures, varies its representations according to the dif∣ferent positions of the eye that specu∣lates it, on one hand it carries the as∣pect of Fear; on the other, of Mag∣nanimity: in one posture it appears Blind; in another, sharp-sighted; here a Fool; there Wise, &c. so that its picture cannot be drawn in one Image: and the spectator may easi••y be mistaken in its lines and features. To be particular.

When you see a languishing Lover, whose armes seem so tender and deli∣cate, that you think them fit only for embraces; who exhales nothing but odours or sighs; who is strook down with the contraction of a brow, and wounded to the heart with the dis∣dainful

glance of an eye: take heed notwithstanding, how you reproach him as a soft, effeminate and pusillanimous person. For, realy he is hardy, daring and adventurous; he repines not at the tediousness or cold of nightly vigils; he inures himself to difficulties; like Caesar posting from Rome into Germany, he despises the obstacles of the Alps, of frost and snow and overflowing ri∣vers; he exercises his fortitude with submissively undergoing accumulated injuries; he defies dangers, nay, makes it a pleasure to create them in his ima∣gination, and is gratified with the en∣countre of adverse accidents, as favours to his zeal••▪ and arguments of his de∣votion, he neglects not only dress, but health; and, like Candidates for St. Peters▪ chair, or the Dukedom of Venice, thinks it adv••••tagious to look faint, pale and meagre.

Nor ought you to accuse him of Stu∣pidity, though you observe him to suf∣fer Contempts and Affronts from his proud Stratonice, without just resent∣ment. For, he (be you well assured) is wholly transmigrated into soul, be∣come all spirit, retreated into that Aetherial particle of Fire, which is im∣passible,

and can not be touch'd. If this seem less credible, be pleas'd to consi∣der, it is the Religion of Love to over∣come evil with good, to extinguish the fire of malice by the brighter flame of Charity; the Philosophy of this endea∣ring Passion, to subdue hatred by sub∣mission and obsequiousness. Besides, our good-natured Gallant entertains, neglects & scorn, not with insensibility, but discretion: as well understanding, that injuries as they fade and die of themselves, when bravely despised; so they pass into Benefits, when received with gentleness and humanity. A flint is broken on a feather-bed.

Will you charge him with Blindness, because he discerns not the defects, the spots of his Mistress; but takes these for starres, and those for ornaments; and by a most 〈…〉〈…〉 gilds over her faults with the title of the neerest virtues? Herein certainly you are no e∣qual Arbiter. You require a Censor, not a Lover; and in the place of true affection, you expect a severe judge∣ment. It is a sign of ill-nature in you, thus to envy him the pleasure of an error, wherein he thinks himself more happy. Is it not lawful for him to impose

upon himself by such innocent fraud? to form in his mind a more august image of her, whom he is resolved to contem∣plate and adore{punctel} we account it an ex∣cellency in a Painter, to make his pie∣ces fairer than the Originals; and among the many praises deservedly ascribed to our incomparable Mr. Lely, this is not the least, that his curious pencil can at pleasure not only follow the finest lines of Nature, butsweeten them; at once both imitate and excell the life. Why then do you condemn the same in a Lover? it is indeed an excess in both; of Art in one; of Affection in the other: and, in my opinion, equally commendable. Imagination is unconfined even by Na∣ture: and the very Extravagances there∣of in love have been approved by Venus herself, in that she infused warmth and life into Pygmalions Eburnea. That, you'll say was a fiction: yet the Mytho∣logy may serve to justifie our Inamorato. The life given to that Statue by the Goddess, was no other than the grace and beauty of the Figure, which Appel∣les, in his Pictures called the Venus; which made it live in the estimation of those times, and admiration of posterity. Luci••n's Panthea (in 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉) likewise, it

is probable, was no other than ••n Ima∣g••nary or Romantique Lady, made up of all the rare idea's of Beauty, and ad∣mirable endowments of mind, whereof humane nature is capable; for, his best Interpreters are at a loss in their conje∣ctures, what divine Princess that was, whose glorious perfections he designed to celebrate under the veil of that Name: yet even learned and grave men are so highly pleased with the descrip∣tion and Character, that they equally admire his Wit, and her accomplish∣ments, and scarcely abstain from rival∣ling him in both. If such admiration then, and applause be due to Lucian's Fancy; why do you deride that of our Inamorato, who thereby endeavours to form to himself such another Panthea? If he deceive himself, 'tis to his own misfortune, not your prejudice; yet how can we call that a misfortune, which he (the best judge in the case) esteems a Felicity?

But all this while the Dimness, seems to be in your Understanding, not in his sight. His eyes are not put out, but only covered with a thin vail, through which they see more securely, more cleerly; as we behold the Sun b••st

through a skreen of clouds. You are to imagine them only contracted, as those to take aim, that they may discern more accutely and distinctly. Being fixt upon one object, and that a bright and cha••ming one, they do not indeed so plainly pe••ceive other things; yet not that they are weak, but because they loath them, and will not endure to be diverted: which is not to be dim-sight∣ed, but to see too much. Again, if to Philosophize, be nothing but to con∣template Idea's; then to love, is to be a Philosopher. Yea▪ if every man loves so much as he understands (which was Plato's opinion) then dotage in love is an argument of Science.

You are too blame, therefore, if you think vehemency of desire to be a sort of Madness; or take our Lover for one Infatuated, only because his actions seem extravagant. Alas! what you call Follies in him, are the Mysteries of a D••vine Fury, or Enthusiasm. Love in∣spires into the Mind a new Faculty of acting by a more certain and compen∣dious way, than that of Ratiocination: all his Reason, like that art by which spiders weave their curious nets, and Bees Govern their Commonwealth, is

Instinct. His hand is not guided by the eye, when he shoots at human hearts; but by the Divinity of his Genius: and therefore, though he never takes aim, he never misses the mark.

Impotens flammis simul & sagittis, Iste lascivus puer ac renidens Tela quam certo moderatur — arcu!

While we poor mortals regulate our affairs by Reason, which is a la∣borious faculty, and obnoxious to error; it is the priviledge of his Divini∣ty, to be carried on by a quick and most certain 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, or force, to all his ends; and, like the Supreme Being, he is wise without deliberation or counsel. It is not then the prerogative of Iove alone, sapere & simul amare, to be wise and to love at once. For if wisdome be, scire quid sit optimum, then certainly a Lover is also wise, because he knows whats best; aliud enim (as Senecca) amare prae∣ter optimum, nefas est. If after all this you will not allow him to be in his wits, pray consider what subtle devices, am∣bushes, stratagems, and artifices he in∣vents and makes use of, to take in that strong and by open fo••ce impregnable fortress of his Mistresses heart. Cast

your eye upon those troops of Virgins, that are daily led Captives, as trophies of their Lovers wit and cunning: all which were of necessity to be deceived, before they could be taken, and by ar∣tificial violence to be drawn to their own desires. For, they love more, to be ingeniously beguil'd, than to be lo∣ved; and the readiest way to bring them into the circle of your embraces, is first to circumvent them with pretty fallaces and amorous treacheries. Now he that can with neat address, unper∣ceived snares, and harmless frauds bring this to pass; either he is no Fool, or I am one to think him otherwise, and so was Virgil when he said — quis fa••••ere possit amant••m? & Mantuan, when he said

Nam{que} dolos inspirat am••r, fraudes{que} ministrat.

Nay, so far is this Passion from darken∣ing the understanding, and casting a mist over the Eye of the Mind, that it rather illuminates and clears it. Wit∣ness that pleasant Story in Boccace (which he borrowed from the Greeks, and which Beroaldus hath translated in∣to Latin, and Beblius turned into ele∣gant verse) of Cymon and Ephigenia.

This Cymon, the Son of a Governor of Cyprus, was naturally so very a Fool, so stupid an indocil an Ass, that his Fa∣ther being ashamed of his rude and ideot-like behaviour, sent him to be kept at a remote and solitary Grange of his in the Country. Where he walk∣ing alone, as his custome was, by chance espied a beautiful young Gentlewom••n, Iphigenia, a Burgomasters Daughter of Cyprus, as she lay fast asleep with her Maid, in the cool shade of a little Thic∣ket, with no envious cover, but a clean transparent Smock, that rather betray'd than conceal'd her excellent shape and whiter skin. At this surprising vision poor simple Cymon was astonisht; he stood leaning on his staff (for his legs were now unable alone to support his trembling body) gaping on this female Angel, unmoveable, and in a trance of wonder and amazement. Upon which Love immediately succeeding, and in a moment with its celestial raies dispel∣ling all the foggs of his cold and phleg∣matick brain, yea inspiring him as it were with a new and ingenious soul; he rowzd up himself; reflected upon the misery and dishonour of his late condi∣tion, and put on a sprightly resolution

to pursue his Nymph with Courtship and Gallantry, worthy her admirable Form, and his own noble extraction. To this purpose he the next day fol∣lowed his retreating Fairy to the City, put on a becoming habit, and with it a graceful and obliging Mine: and ani∣mated with hope, industriously imploy'd himself in learning Musick, dancing, fencing, and acquiring all other good qualities requisite in a Gentleman. So that in a very short time he was trans∣formed from an Ideot, a Bartholmew∣Cokes, a Clown, to a Bon Esprit, a Virtuoso, a Truwitt, in a word, to the most accomplish'd Gallant of the times: nor was Iphigenia so invincible to such assaulting perfections, as not by marri∣age of him to appropriate to her self the fruits of the Miraculous Metamor∣phosis the vision of her Beauties had wrought in him. Such power hath the sight of a fair Lady naked to cause Love; such power hath Love to cure the Lethargy of the Soul, and awaken it into Wit and Galantry, making a Heros of a Sott, in fewer minutes than the Writers of Romances can in years. I say, a Heros; because the same Cymon proved also famous at Arms, fought

sundry combats, performed many he∣roical exploits, and alwaies had Fortune for his Second: the same flame that en∣lightned his understanding, having hea∣ted his blood also, and kindled Cou∣rage and Magnanimity in his heart.

At this you will the less wonder, if you remember what you have read in Cardan (lib. 2. de Sap.) who there occa∣sionally recounting many of the admi∣rable effects of Love, says thus. Ex vilibus generosos efficere solet, ex timidis andaces, ex avari•• splendidos, ex agresti∣bus civiles, ex crudelibus mansuctos, ex impiis religiosos, ex sordidis nitidos & cultos, ex duris misericordes, ex mutis eloquentes, &c. If you contemn this authority, I hope you will not dispute the Example of Sir Walter Manny in Edward the thirds time, who being stuck full of Ladies favours, fought like a Dragon: nor that of Ferdinand King of Spain, who (as Castilio thinks) had never conquer'd Granado, had not Queen Isabella and her Ladies been present at the Siege, it cannot be expres∣sed, sayes our Author, what courage the Spanish knights derived from the ra••es of the Ladies eyes; a handful of amorou•• Spaniards overcoming a multude of

Moors. Every true Lover is wise, just, temperate and valiant, saith Agatho lib. 3. de Aulico) who doubts not therefore, but if a Prince had an Army of such Lovers, he might soon con∣quer the whole world; except he met with the like Army of Inamorato's to oppose it. Plato then had reason, when (5. de Legibus) he would have women follow the Camp, to be both Spectators and Encouragers of noble Actions: it being his opinion, (in convivio) that Mars himself borrowed most of his va∣lour from his love of Venus.

SECT. V.

HAving beheld this Proteus, Love, in some of those various shapes, wherein it usually appears; you are (I presume) thereupon inclined to think it may be no less unconstant to its Object, than it seems to be to it self. To ob∣viate this scandalous mistake, therefore, I find my self obliged in the next place to evince, that the Judgments of Love are, like those of Fate, unalterable and perpetual; that it is constant and immu∣table. He who can cease to love whom he hath once loved, doe's but dream he

loved. For the conjunction of true Lo∣vers hearts, like solemn Matrimony, admits of no divorce. When the Virgin Zone is untied, a knot is in the same in∣stant knit, that can never be dissolved; sometimes, indeed, as the Gordian, it may be cut asunder. Death may be the Alexander to discind, but cannot untie it. Love ceases not, though what is loved hath ceas'd to be▪ When your Turtle hath molted all her beautiful feathers, and is grown old; you shall not cease to think her still the same, still amiable and youthful: and what of her charming feature•• time hath impai∣red, your affection will continually re∣new; the pleasing Form now lost to your eye, shall be perpetually found fresh and lively in your mind. The fidelity of Remembrance shall countervail the cruelty of Age: which may by a natural Metamorphosis render your Wife a stranger to her former self, but hath not the more tyrannical power to alienate her from you. Nay, when Fate shall have torn her from your armes, even then shall you still retain and enjoy her in your imagination; you shall think her not dead, but only absent▪ and as often as you mix embraces w••t•• her

kind Ghost, you shall deny her to have perish'd, Love shall make you triumph over Mortality; and in the ardor of your spiritual ••ruition, you shall bid defiance to Destiny, crying out, Though you have seperated us, O Fatal Sisters! you have not divided us; yet we converse together, yet we are a pair, from others you have ta∣ken away the Woman, from me not so much as her shadow. While she lived, we used but one Soul; now but one Body. Her Spirit is received into my breast, and there remains fixt, as in its proper Aste∣rism and Heaven.

Thus Love seems to perform i••s course, as the Sun, in a Circle, alwaies returning to the point whence it set forth: so ending in it self, as alwayes to begin. For, no man loves, who can e∣ver be able to love either, less, or not at all. Of love there can be no end, because no satiety. Like Heaven and a contemplative Mind, it is perpe∣tually in motion, never at rest: yet that labour doth not weary, but refresh. Thus the end of one benefit, is a degree to∣ward another: and the Soul provoked by a double ardor, cherishes first the per∣son, and then its own obligations; ad a∣mor is perennitatem sufficit amasse.

Notwithstanding Love be thus im∣mortal, as being the proper affection of an immortal Soul, and devoted to an eternal Object, Good: yet can I not de∣ny, but it is a kind of Death. For, who is ignorant that Lovers die as often as they kiss, or bid adieu: exhaling their Souls upon each othe••s lips. Like Apol∣lo's Priests possessed with the spirit of Divination, they are transported out of themselves; their life is a perpetual Ex∣tasie; they devest themselves of their own Souls, that they may be more hap∣pily fill'd with others. I believe Py∣thagoras his Metempsychosis or Transmi∣gration of his Soul, when he loved, not when he philosophiz'd. At sight of a fair and well built house, our souls, like delicate and proud Ladies, grow weary of ther own homely dwellings, and are unquiet until removed thither: because they were not born, they affect to live, yea to be born again therein▪ Longing for the Elyzium of their Mi∣stress breast, the only Paradise for Lo∣vers Ghosts, they break the prison of their own, and anticipate the delivery of Death, and fly thither, as to the place of their eternal mansion. Who∣ever thou art, th••t darest to doubt of

these excursions of amorous Souls; let me advise thee attentively to observe, how the Soul of a Lover almost visibly flies to that part of the body, which approches neerest to his Panthea. If they joyn hands, you may perceive their souls to be palpably distributed in∣to their fingers, mutually to take ho••d, and entwine each with other. If they stand side by side, their bowels yern, their hearts leap for joy, their spirits flow in crowds into their breasts, and raising strong palpitations, salute each other, as Clowns use to do, with thumps; as if they strove to dissolve the l••ga∣ments of life and intermix embraces. What kind of Magique is that, by which the blood is made to overflow the cheeks with crimson waves, at the pre∣sence of a dear friend; springing up out of the Arteries of the wounded Heart, as an index of its sufferings, no otherwise than the blood of a murdered man is said to flow forth afresh, to betray the Ho∣micide? only with this difference, that the blood, in the case of Murder, flows, I know not by what instinct, ••or re∣venge: but in a Lovers blushes, for cure and remedy of his harm▪ See, how gree∣dily his soul catcheth the sounds of her

voice; and retired wholly into his ears, stands there watching every accent, nay is converted into the sense of Hearing, or rather into the very sounds it re∣ceives. In exchanging words, they ex∣change spirits: and immigrate into the wishes they utter. See, how their wan∣dring souls in a continual efflux sally forth at their encontring eyes; and con∣suming themselves in greedy looks, leave their bodies faint and liveless, ma∣ny times falling into swoons and Synco∣pes. To Lovers it is the same thing, to speak, and to expire; the same, to see, and to extramit themselves by the eye▪ to gaze, and to pass into the object. In them the Platonic opinion, that sight is performed by Extramission of rays holds true. Thus the whole Man hast∣ning to get forth, crowds one while into the Ear, another into the Eye, sometimes into the Lips: suavia dans Agathoni, animam ipse in labra tenebam; was Plato's confession of himself; li∣ving only in that part, wherein he at pre∣sent enjoys his Fellow, his other and better half. Thus Love epitomizeth Human nature; compelling Men to breath and live more contractedly; and (like some imperfect Animals) to be

content with one sense alone. But thus to reduce him from a necessity of many Organs or Instruments of life, sense and motion, to a capacity of existing more delightfully by one single Organ; is not to maim Man, but render him more perfect and divine. We will therefore, if you please, conclude this Paragraph with a pertinent Stanza of that incom∣parable Critique in Love, old Chaucer: who in most lively and never-vading colours painting the surprize and asto∣nishmen of Troilus, (till then a Wo∣man-hater) at first sight of the fair Cre∣seide, in her mourning habit, sparkling like a Diamond set in Jet; saith thus.

Lo, he that iete him selven so conning, And scorned hem that loves paines drien, Was full unware that love had his dwelling Within the subtel streams of her ••yen; That sodainly him thought he felt dren, Right with her loke, the spirit in his herte. Blessed be love, that thus can folke con∣verte▪

SECT. VI.

IN such spiritual efforts and sallies, the Body indeed suffers a manifest, though a grateful detriment; but (what's a won∣der even for wise men) the soul acquires Augmentation. For, as if she were also definable by Extension, being by a cer∣tain expansion more diffused than before, she that was originally the Guest of one breast, become's thenceforth the Go∣verness of two. Confused betwixt two bodies, she scarcely knows for which she was first formed: but as it were sus∣pended betwixt both, she perfectly in∣forms neither. By one Law of Nature she is confined to one body; by ano∣ther Law of the same Nature, Love, she is carried forth to animate and pos∣sess another, which she strives to make equally her own: so that in this case you are obliged to acknowledge both a Di∣minution and an Increment of her So∣veraignty. Every Individual in love, is thenceforth a Number; carrying al∣ways with him, as Antipheron did, an∣other Himself: if at least he may pro∣perly be said to be a Number, whom one computes, whom one distinguishes,

whom the word Homo alone expresses; an Hermaphrodite and yet no Monster. By a fruitful error, to men in Love, as well as to men in Drink, all objects ap∣pear double: yet no otherwise than the eyes themselves are double, which have one and the same motion, one and the same sight. Here you see a kind of pene∣tration of Dimensions, two persons so closely embracing, as to fill up the same space, as to become one, as to destroy their embraces; for, embraces imply a difference. While, like ovids He••ma∣phrodite, Salmacis, the person court∣ing, and the person courted are one and the same; he knows not whether he love, or is beloved more truely; nor doth he enjoy, but is converted into his wish. Ah, Cupid, thy very bounty is mockery; thy favour, like that of Gran∣dees in Court, hypocritical▪ while thou hidest within my breast, what I require to be in my arms. Thou art too propitious in making us one: rather di∣vide us, that we may feel our selves to be what we would be, different in sex, one in will and desire. Obstat cupienti, nimium frui. To have her made the same with my self, whom I covet only as a Partner of my joys, is to prevent

them. This excess of kindness, this assimilation of another to my self, makes me think, I do not embrace my Friend, but a shadow; which always treads in my footsteps, and imitates all my mo∣tions. Stand farther from me, O my dearest, who art nearer to me than I am to my self; that I may enjoy that plea∣sure, which consisteth in the knowledge of a Distinction.

But, alas! I forget my self, and wish a Contradiction. The same power that makes one of two, makes also two of one. The Arithmetick of Love is per∣formed aswel by substraction, as by Mul∣tiplication: nor do we think that sub∣straction a loss, but a Compendium; un∣less it be more advantage to have our strengths collected, than extended. E∣very thing (you know) is so much the more perfect, by how much the more simple. To be comprehended within no space or number, is the prerogative of the Deity: and what is Best and Highest, can be but one. Love, there∣fore, as it hath this Divine perfection of Unity; so hath it likewise that other of Self-communication. For, what is per∣fect, is uncapable of addition or encrease otherwise than by Diffusion or Distri∣bution

of it self. The only Usury of Love, is to make others rich. This li∣berality of conferring ones self upon an∣other, is the only good Mankind can justly call his own, and the first Dona∣tive of Heaven. Other things are the gifts of Fortune, which we can no more give, than the light of the Sun, or the common aer; nay, which we have scarcely right enough to appropriate to our selves. Whoever loves, then, comes neere to the Divine Nature; as placing his chief delight in doing good, in making another happy. Hence it is, that as Men of youthful and strong Bo∣dies are naturally desirou•• to beget issue of their Loins: so those of great and vigorous abilities of Mind feel in them∣selves a certain noble ardor, that incites them to beget children of their under∣standing, a praegnancy of the Brain, and most chaste Lust of propagating virtue; which is commonly named Platonique Love. Wherefore, Love is, in this re∣spect at least; so far from proceed∣ing from want (as Mr. Hobs derives it) that on the contrary it is the effect of wealth and abundance. Nor ought we longer to complain of Nature, as close∣handed and niggardly in her Gifts to

Mankind, since she hath been so indul∣gent and bountiful in instituting this ingenious commerce, whereby every one both communicates himself, and receives another (for, by Love we do not sell, but exchange ourselves) yea transferrs into his own treasury whatever is excel∣lent and divine in another; being a∣dopted heir to anothers riches, he be∣comes more accomplished by endow∣ment, and in another supplies his own defects. This Munificence of Love in communicating whatever it thinks good and delectable, is evident even in the de∣light of sensual Fruition, which being a pleasure consisting in a conjunction not only of two Persons of different sexes, but also of two different Appetites in each Person; viz. to please, and to be pleased; and the former of these two Ap∣petites being an Affection of the Mind consisting in the Imagination of power to please: it necessarily follows, that each p••rty becomes so much the more joy'd or pleased in himself, by how much the more able he finds him to please or cause joy in the other. So that they rival each other in the Communi∣cation of delight. The same may be said also of Platonique Love, or generous

Charity; the delight whereof consisting likewise in the exercise of ones power or ability to enrich the understanding of an∣other, and impraegnate his Mind with the seeds of Virtue: the Socrates must be so much the more delighted in his own Mind, by how much the more he finds the Alcibiades better'd by his in••tructi∣ons▪ Here's all the difference, the delight of sensual Love depending partly upon the powers of the Body, is therefore fu∣rious, short of duration, and subject to decay: the Platonique depending solely upon the Mind, whose powers are per∣petual, is therefore calme, of one equal tenour, and everlasting.

Here finding my boat unexpectedly brought upon the blessed coast of the New Atlantis, or terrestrial Paradice, FRIENDSHIP, where the aer is perpe∣tually clear and serene, the sea pacific, and the land spontaneously fertil; a place wherein nothing is found but Consolations, whose King, Altabin, is a wise man; whose peaceful inhabitants are rich in their contempt of all pecuniary Commerce within themselves; where the Tirzan, or true Father of the Vine, Love, composes all differences, and ex∣tinguish•••• all animosities; and where

the Sons and Daughters of Bensalem live in perfect amity and concord: be∣ing come, I say, to this happy Port, give me leave my dear Friend, here to cast anchor, and end my voyage. I had designed to sail farther, to discover what that wonderful something in Love is, which we observe to be more pow∣erful than all Calamites, more august than Honour, more splendid than Ri∣ches, more delightful than Pleasures, more sovereign than Empire▪ more ve∣nerable than Autority, more charming than Beauty, more illustrious than Wis∣dom; that for which we contemn and trample upon all those glorious things, so much either feared, or adored by the world; yea, for which alone we do not contemn, but esteem and worship them: that, which so fully pleaseth alone, that even the vilest things please for the sake thereof; which enjoye's this privilege of Majesty, that nothing can turn to its dishonour; which is above the reach of Infamy, and can honest even vice it self. But, perceiving the Needle of my Co∣gitations, no less than that of my Af∣fections, to fix it self on that point of the Compass, wherein you and I seek for Happiness in this life, our constant

Friendship: I confess, my Mind is so intirely taken up with the ravishing Contemplation thereof, that I cannot at present divert it to prosecute what I intended to speak, concerning seve∣ral other admirable and stupendious ef∣fects of this Heroick Passion; whereof I have here drawn no perfect Picture, but only a rude Scetch, or rather a few gross and confused lines, by way of supple∣ment to Your more artificial Represen∣tation of it, in your Ephesian Matron. Let us, therefore, now (if you please) goe ashoar, and repose our selves in the newly mention'd Island of Bensalem, (where though we be not advanced to the honour of being Fellows or Bre∣thren of Salomons House; yet we may be well received into the House of stran∣gers) reserving what remains untouch∣ed of our Argument for another diver∣tisement; and in the mean time, with our dearly beloved Don Geffrey,

Beseeching every Lady bright of hewe, And every gentil woman, what she be, Albeit that our Matrons were untrue, That for that gílte ye be not wroth with me. Ye may in other Bokes their gilte se. And gladder I would write, if that ye leste, Penelopes truth, and faith of good Alceste.

Ne saie I nat this all only for these men, But most for women that betraied be Through fals folke (God yeve hem sorowe, That with great witte and subtiltie (amen) Betraien you; and this meveth me To speke, and in effect you all I praie, Bethe ware of men, and herkeneth what I say. But God forbid, but a woman can Ben as true and loving as a man. For it is deintie to us men to ••inde. A man, that can in love be trewe and kind.

Thus endeth now my tale, and God us sende Taling enough unto our lives ende. ¶

FINIS.