I Am too Sensible of the Wanton Tyranny of Imperious Love, and with what severe trials it con­stantly exercises the affections. But although to Love be as great a la­bour as any of Hercules's, since it con­tinually imposes new tasks and Pilgri­mages, allots us most Rigorous services, and perversly contrives to please with Cruelty: Yet nevertheless we are well content (we who have sworn Alle­giance to Love) that it freely exer­cise this its unlimited dominion, that so the Austerity of the impositions [Page 2] may magnifie both its own Soveraign­ty and our compliance. Let it com­mand us what is in our Power, and what is not in our Power (except this one thing, not to love) neither let it exact any thing below a miracle, since with the Command it gives abi­lity, elevates the mind above it self, and makes the man commence a Deity. So that he deserves not the name Lovers can do all things, even be­yond their strength. of a Lover, who does not act beyond the Sphere of All, and rise up to his wishes by Heroical undertakings. No, he is but a Novice in Love who does not act somewhat above himself in obedience to his Passion.

But you (my friend) with equity re-demand a draught of those affections which you Every one is the most pleasing spectacle to him­self. Whatever by shewing us to our selves doubles our embraces is high­ly dear to us: But if it render us maim'd it be­comes dearer by defor­mity it self. your self first taught me, though divested of your own grace and Elegancy. Is it because it will be so delightsome to you to Contemplate the reflected Image of your self, which is as lively engraven on my Devoted breast, as on an Adamantine Table: and will so please you to take a nice and Critical survey of me as far as I may [Page 3] appear the workmanship of your own Art? Or is it because your image can receive no disadvantage from any ble­mish of the matter, but like the Sun gilds even the spots themselves with its Lu­ster, that you will not like a peevish La­dy be displeas'd at your Looking-glass, for presenting you with deformities which are none of your own, and as it were Burlesquing your face? I know not how it comes to pass, but we have a kind of Love for the very de­crepit shadows which are the reproach of our own bodies, and are apt to pay a more awful Veneration to mai­med Statues. So parents are common­ly more tenderly affected toward their mis-shapen Children (as if Na­ture had so order'd it as a Solace to Or from this very shew of injury or antiquiry. misfortune) and treat these Monsters of the Womb with greater reverence, as if they were the presages of some­thing extraordinary, Whereas all others deride the transposed Mass of a distorted body, the Anagram of a Deformity is a Sacred thing. man. Certainly there is something Sacred in deformity. The Prophets thought it more Divine than any beauty, more fit to represent the Grandeur of a Deity, and render an [Page 4] Oracle Majestick. It does at once scare Mortals and lecture them, and chal­lenges not so much our Love as our adoration. Every one is the most pleasing object and Charming specta­cle to himself, and the eye seems to be priviledged with the pleasure of the mind, while it reflects its sight upon it self, being at once the object and the beholder. Whatever that is which by shewing us to our selves doubles our embraces, must needs be highly pretious. But if it repre­sent us maim'd and defective, it ac­quires a new value from the very shew of injury or antiquity. I am not therefore a little indebted to nature for making my mind a blank Table, 'Tis the Mystery of Love, which can­not be ex­press'd, unless it be its own interpre­ter. though for no other reason than this, that it might receive so much of your Image, whereby it might delight both it self and you. But 'tis a pro­digy (they say) when Images once be­gin to speak.

And indeed I find it far easier to love, than to express that which de­lights only to be perceived, not to be shewn; and because lodged in the reces­ses of the heart, disdains to admit the Tongue to be its consort. That, [Page 5] which none of us have learnt from The Idi­oms of Lovers like those of Embas­sadors, are delivered in inver­ted Cha­racters. precedents and instructions, but then only begin to know when we we have all experimented it. You would say Cupid were not only blind but Dumb, since he renders every member of the body vocal except the Tongue. Hence 'tis that Lovers with more Eloquence communicate sighs than words, as so many internunciary particles of vital Air, and like Doves of Venus mourn sorth animated letters. Hence They con­vese like Angels by in­tuition, the will not the in­tellect ex­plaining it self. 'tis that they keep a silent intercourse with their fingers, now eloquent with­out a Pen, and weave Dialogues in little Posies. They hear one anothers mutual wishes, and read one anothers visible souls, by those vocal messengers of the affections, affable Nods, and darting Smiles. Sometimes their sig­nificant gestures composed as it were of so many rhetorical figures, court in a various and Mysterious Dialect. Sometimes their ranging aspects are earnestly fix'd on one another as on strangers, and while they seem to dis­own all acquaintance, grow familiar by stealth. Sometimes their contracted brows pretend a passion, yet they do but all the while industriously fawne, [Page 6] and designedly wait for delicate plea­sures. Sometimes their souls inter­changeably gliding from their eyes, take a Cursory taste of Bride-kisses at a distance, and bring home their stol­len sweets with Triumph. 'Tis at once their greatest boast and pleasure to remain undiscover'd. Thus that which has so often appear'd in The­atres, does still decline spectators, and acts its plaies in its own disguise. Methinks these Divine conversers en­joy a priviledge above the Laws of humane Commerce, thus to hit one anothers meanings by most infal­lible tokens, to pry into the very inward parts, and to entertain them­selves with a Divination rather than a Conference. For they are mutually discern'd by the clearer vision of thought, before they deliver them­selves in words, or know how to coun­terfeit; and their wishes become vi­sible like Phantoms, but withall like some Pictures cannot be understood with less art than was used in the making. They uncase themselves of their bodies like gods quitting their Shrines, and not only expose them­selves to view, but intermix, and in­fuse [Page 7] a soul into each other with eve­ry accent. Their wandring and ec­static souls freely pass to and fro as 'twere within the same body, and converse as softly as if in a Soliloquy. This one passion cannot possibly be express'd, but is as a mystery to be adored, whose Rites like some of greatest antiquity among the gods, are shrowded no less than Crimes, with a bashful secrecy. All Love has its veil, and the Votaries of Venus All Love has its veil. like Aeneas go surrounded with a Cloud, and in the most popular con­course enjoy a concealment. Neither does Cupid content himself with a sin­gle veil, but loves to view wounded hearts in Masquerade, and to secure himself invisible. So that Love, to whose friendly influence the orderly System of the Universe owes its com­posure, has left it self in confusion, bury'd in the Old Chaos and primitive obscurity.

Venus has hitherto avoided the Sun Love is an unexpres­sible mys­terie. as a betrayer of her secresie; and to prevent discovery, some god or other has shut up all kind of Love as well as that of Pasiphae, in a Labyrinth, where if it chance to be taken, it ap­pears [Page 8] all over intangled with Nets and Toiles; or confusedly warpped up like a Monster. Indeed every Lover is a Riddle and a blind Problem to It is also a riddle. himself. He lives Amphibiously, and is made up of contradictory passions, wafted up and down by those alter­nate tides of his breast, so that from him you may learn that contrary winds and Seditious Waters gave birth to Venus. Is it so that the same person is Love-Pro­blems. enslaved and yet acts with all freedom, is master of his own will, yet at the same time subject to anothers, and like the manumiss'd Slaves of Emperors purchases his power over his Mistress by a long Apprentiship of servitude and compliance? Is it so that the same person by an happy contradiction is at once both dead and alive, and Phoenix like makes himself a vital funeral-pile, that he may revive more Nobly from his Flames? Is it so that there is so much madness and maliciousness in the desires of Lovers, as to wish them miserable who are At once malicious and bene­volous. most dear to them, only that they may have an opportunity to relieve their misfortune? First to inflict a wound, that they may be the authors [Page 9] of its Cure? To wish them deserted of their friends and fortune, that they may succeed in their Room? So that necessity rather than Courtship and me­rit, may allure them into their em­braces? 'Tis hard to know whether you have to deal with a friend or an enemy, since the same part is thus en­viously acted by hatred and too ardent affection. 'Tis somewhat unkindly done to deprecate the Love of others, that he himself may engross all, and to forbid and implead all other com­panions as encroaching on his pecu­liar; nay more, studiously to contrive how to prevent the growing wisdom of his dearest, lest it should occasion a contempt of himself. For 'tis ex­pedient No Love without some in­dignation. that the person lov'd, as well as the Lover be blind. How al­so does the feverish and love-sick breast labour under the alternate Pa­roxysms of heat and cold. Neither is there any Love without a mixture of indignation. He curses (and that deservedly too) his pleasing tormen­tor that scorches him in these flames, and snatches him from Himself; but still like the fly he loves to sport a­bout the dazling brightness, and from [Page 10] so divine an Author to enjoy a Noble ruin.

The unhappy Lover seeks for himself out of himself, and lingers on purpose to be caught, that he may have the hap­piness of redeeming himself, and knows no better way to be next to himself, than to approach as nigh as he can to the possessour of his heart. He finds it a difficult thing to Love, and much more not to Love, but the grea­test difficulty of all is to acquiesce in the fruition of his Love. He can­not be otherwise than miserable, since the issue of his desires is as uneasie to him as the desires themselves: So that should auspicious Heaven favour him with a succesful Love, he pre­sently wishes again for his former dis­quiets, and seems to miss that plea­sing Torment, to sigh and languish. So much more pleasant is it to be alwaies advancing toward an enjoy­ment, 'than to be lock'd up in the Chains of an embrace. And truly e­very one thinks more highly of his desires, than of the accomplishment of them. No condition certainly can make him happy, who pines at fruiti­on it self, as depriving him of his sighs [Page 11] and pensive pleasures. And this is the hard misfortune of all Lovers, who though never so much the favourites of fortune, yet can never be happy through the conspiracy of their own minds.

How strange is it that he should shun He loves and fears the sight of his belov'd. the presence of that person as some boding object, whose aspect is yet the very Manna of his soul, and the raies of whose face he thinks more pleasant than those which saluted him at his Nativity! What a Paradox of unhappiness is this to be master of ones wish, and yet not be able to en­joy it. Why 'tis that majestic beau­ty which does at once invite and discourage, 'tis the brightness of that Serene face which like that of the Sun, does at once refresh and dazle the beholder. The poor Votary stands astonish'd with the dread of so great divinity, which his own fancy has clothed with an awful horror; thunderstruck like a Cyclops with bolts of his own forging. His passion has Deifi'd his Mistress, so that now the enjoyment seems too great and excel­lent to be made use of, and he be­gins with a kind of envy to beome [Page 12] his own rival. A Religious concern aws him from Embraces, and the superstition of his Love whispers him in the ear, that what he takes for his Deity must not be approach'd with Corporal Addresses, but only by the Sallies of thought.

Certainly this passion is favour'd with the peculiar care of Heaven, since it has mingled a melancholy trembling with its joys, only to en­hance and refine the pleasure. Hence 'tis that the desires so torment, as He rejoyc­es and sighs by course. that they also please, and the sweets are so beset with prickles, that they also allay our complacencies. They are sparingly imparted to us, yet so as Ladies faces, which are only more openly hid through their thin silk­en veils. So that 'tis their fortune at once to have and want, since they aspire at greater bliss than can possibly be enjoy'd all at once. These little antepasts of Love, to sit by, to walk with, to gaze upon, and to speak to her, are permitted only one at a time. And after all this, the lan­guishing and restless mind, satisfi'd neither with gazing nor conversing, aspires unto something more divine, [Page 13] which is both out of her reach and knowledge. This is (I know not by what destiny) this is the proper infe­licity of Lovers, that because they ne­ver use to lay hold on any happiness but in a dream, they Sceptically di­strust their most real delights, treat them as tenderly as if they were dreams and shadows, refuse to be imposed upon again, and are afraid even to enjoy.

This very passion which composes all other commotions of the Mind, which civilizes Men, Brutes and Phi­losophers, is at variance only with it self, and weds together things of an unlike nature in a jarring and untuna­ble union. Do you upbraid our He is at once effe­minate and man­ly. Lover with Effeminacy, whose arms are fretted only with embraces: who always breathes out either perfumes or sighs; who is struck down with the menace of a sleight frown, and the glance of an eye? Know that he is also hardy and masculine, who can endure his careful Vigils, patiently expecting at the door all night for the day-break of his Mistresses eyes, and exercising his mind with such an un­wearied repetition of customary hard­ship, [Page 14] till he become greedy of fresh encounters. He delights to supply the dearth of fears and troubles by his fruitful imagination, to turn the hazards of his health into so many ar­guments for his Love, the paleness of his complexion into a mode of Courtship, and by misery it self to demonstrate himself a Lover.

Do you call him stupid, because he's as much affected and inflamed with blows and flouts as with the greatest endearments of kindness? Believ't, he's become all Soul, or at least a celestial spark of fire, which is insensible of strokes; or if that sound ridiculous, know that 'tis the Philo­sophy of Love to conquer anger with kindness, and extinguish one fire with another, but a more noble one. This does notwithstanding rather argue the great fervour, than stupidity of the Lo­ver; for as injuries disregarded wear off, so lovingly receiv'd are changed into favours; or as all hard things, are broken upon a yielding softness.

Why do you still exclaim against The faults of a Lover Please. him as mad and blind, because he dotes upon the very blemishes of ano­ther, as starry ornaments, collects a [Page 15] beauty out of defects, and by a good­natured mistake, like a Panegyrist, graces a fault with the name of a neighbour Vertue? Let his Mistress be never so careless of her self, the Artificial Lover still represents her to himself in the most lively ornament of additionary Beauty. But you with too much rigour require a Cen­sor instead of a Friend, and Judgement instead of Affection, by envying the Lover this happy delusion wherein he so pleases himself. Let him im­pose upon himself this commendable cheat, and frame a more than ordi­nary Idea of her in his mind, whom he intends there to adore and contem­plate with a more than ordinary devo­tion. Painters should not draw Faces too Conscientiously, but now and then bestow a favourable stroke, flatter the Original, and so polish the Ta­ble, till by its shining smoothness, it become a Looking-glass rather than a Picture.

You mistake, if you think the Blind, but withal quick­sighted. Eyes of Lovers are blinded; no they are only mask'd, and so see the more clearly and securely through their Avenues and Loop-holes. You may [Page 16] rather think them contracted, as the manner of Archers is, that they may take the surer aim. When they stand fix'd on one object, 'tis not through blindness that they see not the rest, but a disdainful and volun­tary neglect. When the eyes weary themselves with gazing on one single object, and as 'twere of set purpose grow Bankrupt, and lay out their whole sight upon it, that they may never see any thing besides, this is not to be blind, but to see too much. If the entertainment of Philosophy be no­thing else but to contemplate Idea's, sure no employment so Philosophical as to Love. Yea more, if every one Loves just as much as he understands, then what is counted the Madness of the affections, is indeed an argument of knowledge, to be vehemently Love­sick. Hear the Stratagems and Sieges of Lovers, equal to the Conquests over Kingdoms. Look upon the train of Captive Ladies, daily led in Triumph, as so many Living Tro­phies of their Wit, who must first be deceiv'd, before they can be taken, and be brought unwillingly to what they desire. So much would they ra­ther [Page 17] be wheedled than plainly lov'd, and be circumvented with wiles and subtilties, before they are with em­braces. Think, if you can, what Enthusiastic Strains are inspired by a Mistress, what an Itch of Poetry she excites in the Passions of a Wound­ed Breast, and teaches it to make Wanton Sallies in Odes and Epi­grams. Ambitious of such an En­thusiasm, you will cry out with the Poet, O grant I may be in Love: And Love has reason in its mad­ness. over after invoke Cupid instead of Apollo. You maliciously err, whoever you are that take the mysteries of a Divine Ecstasie for the Wild Ranges of an Unhing'd Mind. Love does most luckily, without any Consultation, dispense his Motions, and with an un-erring Hand darts forth Humane Hearts, though Blind, and so not ca­pable of hitting the Mark by aim. For his Hand is directed not by the Eye, but some Divine Instinct, nei­ther is he steer'd by Reason, but acts by somewhat more Divine, like God himself, who is not endow'd with Reason, which would betray him into Error, but prosecutes whate're he does by a most Infallible tendency, [Page 18] and owes not his Wisdom to the Chain of Deliberation.

How agreeably do these two things 'Tis pecu­liar to a wise man. conspire, to Know and to Love! Since it seems the Prerogative of God, and next to him of a Wise man, who knows, as certainly as the Oracle, who's best; for to Love any besides the best is impossible. This is that only He, who passes a Judgement as even, and as true, as the Laws of Fate. He cannot be said to Love, who is mis-led by his opinion, and who makes an unsuitable choice; or which one time or other he must necessarily Hate.

For the Union of Lovers knows no more how to admit of a Divorce, than the most Solemn Marriage. The Virginal Zone is no sooner un­loos'd, but there succeds another Knot, which like the Gordian one, may perhaps be cut asunder, but ne­ver unty'd: For although Death can do the former, yet it cannot the lat­ter. The Love does not dye with its departed Object. His Consort will not seem old to him, when in­deed she is, and that Spring of Beau­ty which is now faded into an Au­tumn, [Page 19] will be kept in his faithful mind fresh and verdant; and he will Love with his memory at least his now disguised and almost unknown Wife. Nay never after the last separation, his Love is perpetual▪ ever, ever surviving friend shall live in his tenacious memory, as if he were divided from him only by the little intervals of absence: And as often as he embraces his sweet Phantasm, he will not yield him dead. You do nothing, ye Fates, we still continue our Commerce, we are still a loving Couple; you have robb'd others of a man, but me not so much as of a sha­dow. Before we had but one Soul be­twixt us, but now but one body. He is lodg'd in me as in his Star or Orb.

And now Love seems to have made its Circle, always returning whence It is a Circle, it began, resembling the motions of Heavenly bodies, it so ends in it self that it always begins. For he is no Lover who can one time or other Love less or not at all. Love has not as other things any end or satiety, nei­ther is it like hunger and thirst to be allay'd by its aliment. It is never glutted with its gratifications, but is [Page 20] still whetted on with fresh delights: and as if the object were alwaies new, the Lover enjoys a daily Epicurism on his admired face. There is a continu­al spring in his delights, a continual thirst in his appetite, and he always finds out something more to be fond of. He is always in motion like the heavenly bodies and a Contemplative mind, never rests, never grows weary, but is refresh'd by his labour. He makes the end of one kindness but a step to another, till inflam'd with a double ardour, he first dotes on the person, and then on his own be­nefits.

'Tis necessary that Love be immor­tal, It is a death. either because 'tis vow'd to eter­nity, or because it always under­goes the changes of death. For who is there that does not know that the last Will and death of a Lover must be dated from the time, when he breathes out his soul in his last sigh to be recei­ved by the mouth of another, makes him compleat Heir of himself, dispenses his goods, sending them before as har­bingers, whither he is prepared to fol­low? He has the Divine priviledge of Prophets to be rapt out of him­self, [Page 21] to enjoy a perpetual ecstasie of life, and to be emptied of his own Soul, that he may be more happily re­plenish'd This is the Pytha­gorical Transmi­gration. with anothers. I believe the Transmigration of Pythagoras may be thus verifi'd, not by his Philosophy, but by his Love. For then his desul­torious and quicksilver soul shifting it self at pleasure of the bodily case as of Cloths, repairs hastily to its plea­santer retreat, and more fair recep­tacle, as to the groves of Elysium. No person can be happy before this death, which is occasion'd by Love and Phi­losophy. The latter does it by disen­gaging the soul from the body, now all-dissolving in the Contemplation of amiableness: The former, by send­ing it forth to the imbraces of its fair Object. Thence arises a loathing, hence a flight and riddance of himself. On each hand there is an aspiring to a Fate Noble and void of all necessity, and Phoenix-like an ambitious longing for death. At the sight of a more Elegant Structure, like a delicate and nice Lady, he nauseates his own a­partment with a proud uneasiness, and then wanders out into those florid re­gions, where since it was not his hap­piness [Page 22] to be born, he will sojourn till he grow old in them, or by repeat­ing the rudiments of his life be re-born. Whoever you are who will not ad­mit these excursions of fugitive souls, do but observe more narrowly how the soul collects it self all to that place, where she approaches nearest to her dearest. If they joyn hands, you'd swear their palpable souls distributed themselves into the fingers on purpose to take fast hold of each other. If their sides be contiguous, you'l perceive an exultation of their hearts, and their spi­rits mutually trooping thither in an hurry, violently beating, and like Rusticks saluting one another with strokes; striving for vent, till they almost break Prison to get forth. By what Charm is the suddain and Extempo­rary Whence blushing proceeds from the sight of the per­son lov'd. blood fummon'd up into the Cheeks at the sight of that dear Crea­ture, and as the hand of a wounded heart points at the striker, no otherwise than as the revengeful blood of a stain man vents it self upon the Murther­er? With this only difference, that one of these Crimson souls by I know no what instinct hastens after Revenge, and the other after a Cure. Observe [Page 23] again how greedily their souls keep­ing Sentinel in the ears, lie at catch for words, and by and by turn themselves into them; interchange Spirits while they hold Conference, and inform the very desires which they utter. Observe again how their Souls in a perpetual Emanation gliding from Whence a deliqui­um. their eyes, waste themselves in Passio­nate glances, and suffer many a faint swoon with gazing. 'Tis one and the same thing with Lovers, to speak and expire, to see and dart themselves out, to gaze and be transform'd into the Spectacle. So impatient is the whole man of departure, that some­times he shifts himself into the eye, sometimes into the ear; and lives on­ly in that part where he enjoys his Consort. Thus Love teaches men a more Compendious knack of living, and makes them content like some Insects with one only sense. Yet this is not to maim the man, but to render him more Divine, by the fewness of Organs required to the Function of life.

But that which occasions a sweet It is an ex­tension of the soul. detriment in the body, gives inlarge­ment to the Soul. Which though [Page 24] formed for one breast, now diffusing it self by a kind of expansion informs another, redoubling its life. She knows not in this confused Miscellany of bo­dies, for which she was at first made, so that in all Love there is improve­ment. Whoever Loves, becomes forth­with a number by himself. Like An­tipheron he carrys about with him his He diffuses [...]one into many. daily Company, and enjoys his other self as his mate, if that may be call'd a number which is computed with the same counter, which one only man distinguishes placed here and there by turns. It happens by a fruitful errour to Lovers as well as Drinkers, that all things appear double to them; but withall so double, as the eyes are, which have but one motion, one vision. Here you may see two running into so Out of ma­ny it makes one. close an Embrace, that they incor­porate and become one, and so lose their Embraces in the undistinguish­able foldings of their arms. While after the lot of Salmacis 'tis the same that does desire and is desired, he knows not whether he more truly Loves or is belov'd, neither does he enjoy but is changed into his wish. Pish, you put a trick upon me now [Page 25] Cupid with your excess of Munificence, while you hide that within my breast, which I seek to embrace. You are too propitious, do something of a contrary nature, that we may be two, that we may perceive our selves to be what we wish. 'Tis prejudicial to a Lover to enjoy too much. 'Tis pre­judicial that he whom I would have my partner, should be all one with my self. Always thus to will and nill the same has no society in 't, but much of a Ridiculous tediousness. When we would consult, we do but assent by course, and instead of being mutu­ally officious, we are ridiculous to one another. Methinks I embrace a sha­dow instead of a friend, which always presses me close at the heels, and imi­tates all my motions. Withdraw a lit­tle from me, O my friend nearer to me than my self, wish as well to me as you can, but prithee Love me a little less.

But O what a profitable bill of exchange has this Cupid the Ʋsurer of hearts! Whence the same Plastic ver­tue of Cementing Souls which out of many makes one, diffuses also one in­to many! So 'tis the same Unite which [Page 26] uncapable by it self of Computation▪ is yet the principle of number. So Multiplication and Addition belong to the same art. Neither do we think this a damage, but an advantage, and perhaps a greater, to have our strength collected than extended at large. The more simple every thing is, the more perfect. To transcend the bounds of all space and number is the property of God. Whatever is the best and chiefest must be one.

And as Love is honour'd with the perfection of chiefest Unity, so is it with another, that of self-communi­cation. For whatever is perfect, has still one way to become more so, and that is by distribution of its self. 'Tis an addition to its own fulness, to Inrich and Impregnate others. Hence 'tis, that the generous mind born as it were a Common Patron to man­kind, and as prone to Love as wor­thy of the Love of all, invents a strange kind of Liberality, to give It is the first gift. away it self to another: Which is in­deed the only proper good a man has to bestow, and Primitive Donative. All other things are Foreign; and come not within the enclosure of [Page 27] property, which we can no more tru­ly give than the Sun or Common air, and which we have scarce right to use; but are guilty of Rapin when we presume to give them, as being the gifts of Heaven and fortune.

Whoever Loves makes a nearer advance to a Deity, and therefore, God-like, is wholly intent on this one thing, to be beneficial. And there­fore they who are well disposed in mind, as well as those of healthy con­stitutions, feel an ingenuous itch of Generating, that is of venting their thoughts, are still under the Travail of the brain, and the Chaste desires of propagating vertue. There is in fruit­ful minds as in quick-flowing fountains It is a name of o­pulency not want. a certain active principle and restless spirit, which always pushes them for­ward to effusion. So far is Love from proceeding from indigence, that 'tis a word which denotes abundance, and greatly relieves the wants of nature: Unless you will call reme­dies themselves diseases, because joyn'd with them. Why should we com­plain It is an in­genuous Com­merce. any more of the Illiberality of Nature, since she has granted this in­genuous way of Commerce to man­kind, [Page 28] wherein every one surrenders up himself and receives another (for in Love we don't lavishly bestow, but exchange our selves) and whatsoe­ver in another is more excellent, trans­fers into his own Repository? He in­herits anothers wealth, decks him­self with supposititious endowments, and supplies his own defects out of anothers store.

But unless I am deceiv'd, there is Not with a design, though Lot of Commu­nication. no such thing as Traffick and Mer­chandize in Friendship: Neither is this Loves Motto, Love that you may be Belov'd. No we give freely, without any prospect of Gain, all that we are to another, with a design of Commu­nication only, though with the Lot of an exchange. For what is more liberal than those Patterns of Love, God and our Parents? Whose Kindnesses exceeding all Gratitude, can only be Adored, never Repaid. Yet even there, where all endeavours of Reta­liation would be Impious, there is something of return, since the Votary, at once the workmanship and maker of his God, does Deifie him by Ado­ration. And so he that owes the good of a short Life to his Parents, [Page 29] repays them with a Posthumous one, being not so much the Inheritor as Preserver of their transmitted Soul. See how the Vine, now no longer the Tree of Bacchus, but Cupid, surrounds her Masculine prop with a thousand Arms, and courts it with Amorous Embraces, that she may af­ford the better Protection and Orna­ment to it for supporting her. She brings no other Encumbrances than her juicy Pearls, and refreshing shades, whereby she defends it from the in­commodities of Weather, which she sustains her self. So that to speak pro­perly, Love does rather bring Assi­stances than sue for them. Whence it passes for a Badge of State, and becomes the part of Superiours to be more willing to Love, than to be Lov'd.

Go now, you that think men are Whate­ver is in­firm is ex­commu­nicated from the rites of Love. not Sociable out of a Principle of Benevolence, but that like the Fee­bler sort of Beasts, they herd toge­ther for succour: Know that Love whom heretofore you took for a Boy, is long since grown up to maturity. Know that from these Altars is pro­scribed whatever is infirm, or of the [Page 30] worser Sex, or of the weaker Age as barren Oblations, and Reproaches Profanely Pious. Neither may Chil­dren, Women, Old men, or (what's more infirm than all these) one of an ill mind list themselves under Cupid's Banner. What an odd contention of Kindness will there be, where to Conquer, and to be Conquer'd are both full of shame, and Flight more creditable than either? What kind of League or Society can there be among those, who have nothing com­mon but this one thing, to live?

But what shall we say of that toyish Children are exclu­ded, be­cause im­mature as for Ver­tues so for Friend­ship. and impertinent Age, which changes Companions as often as Play-games, hourly; which is pleas'd with humane shapes in Arras as fine Company, but is affrighted with real men; whose unacquaintance with the causes of Love and Hatred is the merit of its Innocence, and a Vertue deserving pity. Which because it deals its affe­ction to all as Parents, claims a Pa­rents Indulgency from all, not yet ripe for Friendship. Although even this pretty erring Benevolence may seem the Rudiments of Kindness, and the Nonage of Friendship.

[Page 31] What of that other too severe Age, Old men also, who are trou­blesome either through too much dotage or too much sageness. not less troublesome to others than to it self? That age I mean, which only dotes upon a Staff, or if on a man, 'tis for the same end, that it may have something to lean on. Which falls out with another at eve­ry fit of the Gout, and querulously blames the poor Lover for what is its own disease. Which with a mind as tremulous as Body suspects every thing, which stands upon the Guard even at the offices of kindness them­selves, as at the Arts of Infinuation. To be too officious in pleasing the Man of this season, is to anoint the dead. He always envies me the freedom of my youth, or corrects it by the Pattern of his own that's past, always nibling at my Manners, that he may oppor­tunely boast his own, and so becomes too much my Rival. One would think him dead sometimes, to hear him talk of his Chronicles, and re­hearsing his old Epitaphs. I am con­tinually plagu'd with his rugged Ad­monitions, no less than with his Jar­rings and Snarlings, and all on this score, because I do not grow old fast enough to dye with him for company. [Page 32] He importunately urges me to resem­ble him in his wrinkled severity, and that Vertue, shall I call it, or Disease of old age? To be Wise and Morose. Methinks I stand presented before a Magistrate, and am under a Censure, not a League of Society. But what more Cruel Mezentius is this, who be­troths Carkases to warm Embraces? And in the Jubilee of a Sprightly Life enjoins Dotage and Counsel? What unreasonable Controller is this who commands me to live backward with a man of another Age? Whom to be Familiar with, is indecent, and whom to reverence at a distance, is to Ca­nonize him above the confines of Love and Humanity. But as the pleasure of sorting with equals, gives young minds an early foretaste of a more mature Love; so it may seem the last effort of a decay'd heat, either out of Complaisance to accommodate their dotage to the scandal of youth, or to Cough in consort with those of the same Age, and to enjoy at once the Remembrance and Envy of their past Amours. For they have nothing now to do (having with much regret receiv'd their Mittimus) but to be pre­sent [Page 33] at others Loves, to minister to others the Philtres of Advice, and to sigh, to teach them soft Embraces, and to languish for the desire of them. For these Mortify'd Skeletons still mi­serably pant with the Relicts of their Flames as of their Lives, which do not inspirit them with any present vi­vacity, but rather shew they did once live, and so apply the Marriage-Torch of Cupid to the Pomp of a Fu­neral.

But, O Cupid, O Hymen! What Women also as A­nimals of a different kind from Man. unequal Torches do you kindle? A Man with a Woman! This is not to unite, but to destroy. These are a couple more unhappily match'd than the Soul with the Body; whose Fel­lowship, while it gratifies her, de­grades and dishonours her, and in a pretence to serve, cheats and preju­dices her. There's so much dispro­portion, that a Woman can't fill the other Scale of the Ballance without additionary Gold. There's need of a Dowry and stipend to these Embraces, these Caresses. This is a Felicity to be bought, we don't admit you to it gratis. Neither is a Woman to be esteem'd a Consort to a man, but be­longs [Page 34] to the Inventory of his Goods and Chattels; the furniture of his Bed-Chamber, and the Ornament of his Table. She serves instead of a little Shock to divert ones self with­al, not to employ any part of ones life about. She should be re­garded only at those dull hours, which nature has allotted for grief and sleep. My Mistress is welcome at Supper-time or at Night, that time I'll throw away on her which would be lost otherwise. She can scarce fill up these Intervals of life, these pa­renthesis's of respite, and little blanks of action. She is added to the tasks of rigorous nature, and helps on the loss of our time, more than eating and sleeping. Shall I call this a Wife? By the leave of the Female Academy I'll tell you plainly what I think. I believe these Expletive Particles of mankind were put into the world for no other end than flyes, only to pre­vent a vacancy. I ever took this fri­volous Impertinent to be a certain middle Animal, which like a Centaur compounds a man with a Beast, and detains him as it were within the Con­fines of both natures and a Metamor­phosis. [Page 35] Will you call this Society, whereby a man gains this one thing, not to be alone? 'Tis more than e­nough for them if they can but own the force of reason and submit to it, though they never use any, and like Creatures naturally Wild and Savage, can be made tame and civiliz'd by familiarity. There's nothing in them deserves so much Caution, as lest they should grow wise, or know any thing beyond bare silence, and the simplicity of pleasing.

Friendship is too Sacred a thing to admit of any Embraces, though in­nocent, Friend­ship is a work of reason as well as af­fection. which it ought to blush at if observ'd. 'Tis a flame too Noble to be attended with any levity, nay 'tis a Marriage too strait to a dmit any difference of Sex. This is the highest Which only a­grees with it self and makes two live by one rule. work of reason to make choice of such a person, whose conduct you would rather use than your own, to whose will you would always conform; or even to know how to wait so long, till you can choose a fit object for your Love, and after that so to Love as one that's hurri'd with bare Pas­sion, not steer'd with judgment, as one that's so far from Apostasie that [Page 36] he is always beginning his Love. This is to joyn impatience with con­stancy. This is to receive the belov'd Idea imprinted in the mind with more exactness, and to retain it with more faithfulness than Wax. Besides, 'tis also the work of vertue to state one It is a work of vertue. measure of desires, to preserve an ex­act uniformity of manners through all the various scenes of fortune, and lastly so to Harmonize two, that (what one can hardly perform) they may act one man. These must of necessity always will the same, because they will only the best things. There must Whose Commu­nion is without deteri­ment. needs be also between them the great­est freedom of Communion, because they communicate what without en­vy they possess, their Vertues; and so with greediness they Covet an effu­sion of these goods of their mind, till the Candor of their Souls like the light of Heaven improve it self by an incessant Emanation. Add to this, that the League of this rational friendship will be firmer than the Stoical Chain of Destiny, since the perpetual alliance of Souls is not here founded upon having the same Parents, but the same prin­ciple of living, reason, and (what [Page 37] has a more Vital influence) the be­ing endued with the desire of the same excellency rather than with the same blood. The having the breast ra­ther pant with the same desires, than the Arteries beat with the same spirits. The having a share in the same good and bad fortune, a more indearing in­stance than a common off-spring. You come short of the mystery, if you think the same soul, or the samedivided resides in two bodies, 'tis more, they have the same Soul in two bodies one and uniform. You'd think even the envy of thought could not abstract them, since there is nothing left to distinguish them. For whatever distinguishes would at length divide them, nay 'twou'd make them conceive a greater disgust against each other like Half-brothers from the very nearness.

In vain are friendships and allian­ces as all other Vertues pretended to An ill man is not a so­ciable Creature. by Vicious men: Who are provok'd to mutual hatred and animosity by having the same pleasures, as much as by having the same Mistresses. To have the same thing commodious to both (though this be somewhat more Divine than to have the same common [Page 38] parents) breeds envy from their un­lucky fellowship, and quarrels greater than those of mutual Pillagers, birds of prey or Coheirs. No third per­son will envy, but wonder at their conjunction, nay and will hardly grant He disa­grees with himself, avoids himself. them joyn'd any otherwise than fel­low sailers in the same bottom, recom­mended to each other by fears and dangers; whom assoon as Landed the success of the voyage will disingage, whose society will suffer Shipwrack He is In­clined to Society, not out of benevo­lence but self-dis­dain. from the Land-tempest of Interest and Traffick, and be dissipated into va­rious Climes by the greater Love of Countries than of men. With what con­stancy can you think they will adhere to others, who were not mov'd to this Sociable humour from a princi­ple of benevolence, but a great wea­riness of themselves? They can hard­ly They who can­not en­dure those of like or unlike manners, like ulcers avoid the touch e­ven of the Surgeon. endure the Penance of their own Company, and therefore strive to lose themselves among Crouds, not using the nicety of Choice, but catch­ing at the first opportunity of refuge. For who can please them who don't like themselves, who abhor the in­stances of unspotted Morality as un­like their own actions, and upbraid­ers [Page 39] of them, and therefore dread them as Malefactors do the Magistrate? And as for actions resembling their own (so great is their fear to be try'd even by imitation) they put from them as Rivals to prevent their own extrusion, and fly them as deformity do's a Mir­rour. This is the first punishment of immorality, by its own sentence even amongst men to be adjudg'd to the worst kind of solitude, treacherous Society. 'Tis the fate of an ill man to do all this in vain; To cheapen the good-will of others with a Tale of ser­vices, to let his mercenary soul for a little Hire and fair words, diligently to attend his friends, yet so as he cleanses shoes, and rubs down his Horse as things serviceable and belonging to his Estate; in fine, to do all this only for his own ends, and (which is the usu­al Fate of great benefactions) to lose all through ingratitude, and among these amorous addresses to fortune, to burn with an hatred and loathing of him­self. Would any one now joyn him­self to him another self, whom he sees thus disagreeing with himself? Would any one be ambitious of his Cruel benevolence, by whom he would [Page 40] not be lov'd with the same mind wherewith he stands affected to him­self? Whose serene looks like those of Mars and Fortune, he must be jea­lous of, and enjoy his delights as ti­merously as Treacheries, or such which the next blast or Sunshine will scatter or dissolve. Methinks I see the ill match'd pair exactly resembling a spread Eagle, with striving Embraces, like faces, both averse from each other as in a Divorce, contrary tendencies, always avoiding and always pulling one another back. Dissolve ye Gods this unhappy, this forced connexion, and ye Painters the bolder Artificers. Half of the Monster will flee away and desert it self, and then 'twill appear they stumbl'd upon one another by error, not met out of choice. O deform'd Prodigy of Venus! Nature abhors these Incestuous Conjunctions more than the Monstrous productions of Creatures of a several kind. Nothing is more unhappy than this sort of Lovers, who like the Emperors of Old time, or like birds, betroth them­selves here and there at random, but on a set time, and with due Cere­mony, and yet presently after the [Page 41] season is over disingage again. When the heat is abated there ensues a new ardour of Divorce. Their affection endures no longer than the short­lived gust of the Banquet, when they are satiated they must rise. For they don't know all the while what'tis which they Passionatly long'd for. Their casual affection springs from the mad­ness of their desires, like Venus from that of the Waves. 'Tis cherish'd and kept alive by mistakes, and no sooner throughly known than disapprov'd. To speak freely, whoever Love through Brute tendency or diseases, do rather burn and rave together in a Fever, than consent in the Harmony of af­fection.

It is enacted by the severe Statute-Law of Nature as well as the E­dict The Law of Lycur­gus and Nature a­gree, in making it a Crime to Love no body. of Lycurgus, not for the Luxury but Discipline of the world, that no man shall be without his Lover. How well is it, that there is the same necessity impos'd upon us of Loving and living, and that the same radical heat proves Amorous, as well as Vital! The Epicureans who could be conten­ted without the protection of the Gods, could not yet endure to be [Page 42] without Love whom they might a­dore, and in whose Religion they might more sweetly entertain them­selves. So much more willing are we to make our own Deities, than to You may sooner find an A­theist than and philist. receive them made to our hands. And because 'tis Natural to us to be actu­ated by the instinct of Love and Re­ligion, we use the same zeal of super­stition in both, and rather than want an Idol to adore, we adopt the most unworthy and ridiculous things, Cats and Dogs, and whatsoever was Idoliz'd in Aegypt, into the list of our friends and House-hold-gods. Nay so great is the impatience of Love, that the poor homely Gellia for want of better servants makes a Gallant of her Looking glass, and what Aegypt would be asham'd of, adores a Crea­ture more Monstrous than any of Nile, herself. But 'tis a venial sin, we are all guilty of the same madness, and would rather doat foolishly, than Love nothing. Whether you will or nill, you must necessarily will something, since in your very nilling something is desired. The rest indeed of our There is no man who is not Passions are disposed of at our pleasure, or else easily dwindle away consumed [Page 43] by their own violence. Grief if it re­fuse free some­times from the other Pas­sions. to yield to reason, yields at length to time, to hatred. Hatred through the disturbance of Choler or fear becomes troublesome, first to it self. And fear, not to mention any other remedy, may be crush'd by the evils themselves, and overcome by its own greatness harder, and be cured by Stupidity. Anger the most impetu­ous of all, either by weariness is tamed into Clemency, or being satiated dies, leaving like the Bee its life in the wound. This one Passion which None was ever free from Love. grows Luxuriant in crosses, and Blos­soms more deliciously under pressures, not given to us as the rest were, to be subdu'd; grows up into a necessity and Voluntary Fate. It freely parted with its liberty, which it quite spent in the election of that, which with an immortal desire it might at once possess and prosecute: Which it might wish never to have the power to hate. And now what Modesty or measure is there in desire? Whose Efforts if at Love knows no measure because it aspires to the best. any time misplaced, yet at least with a generous error they aspire to all as the most excellent objects. Of which he is unworthy who is not arrived [Page 44] to this Hyperbole of madness, still more and more to desire, and yet to think he desires not enough; still more and more to enjoy, and yet not to be content with enjoyment, and to caress himself in his ever unsatisfying happiness.

So 'tis: The Author of Nature As 'tis im­possible to Love no body, so it is to Love one who is not best. hath by a firm Law, made it equal­ly impossible either to Love none, or not the best. The former of which is with an inhumane pride to vilifie mankind, and the latter by the worst of Parricides, to destroy a mans self. For when he had the option of life given him, the dis­posal of his Nativity put into his own hands, and could have re-made himself in another, yet he chose to Perish. The Monarchy of the breast like that of Alexander, must be as­sign'd to the best deserving, whom to find should be the business of ones life. It must be a man made up of the highest endowments incident to Mortality, as compleat as a Woman That best which is no where in nature we supply by opinion, and so patch up a feli­city out of variety. could wish. A Catholick man accom­plish'd [Page 45] with all the Hyperbole of vertues which may be any where found or imagin'd, and of which a man may have a notion, never the possession. In a word such a man, whom when with impious desires we have form'd, 'tis an Idea, or a God. And now alas! we find his dignity something a­bove our Love, and fit only to be adored; worthy indeed of our Love but much more of our adoration. These are the flames due to the Al­tar. Nature has implanted this desire in us to her own disparage­ment, being not able to fill it. But yet lest what she intended as her greatest favour should prove a Tor­ment (such as always provokes and never satisfies) she has so order'd it, that what is wanting in the things themselves should be supplied by our opinion, that our mistake at least might make up our happiness. We are gull'd with a counterfeit dress of Beauty, and are first deceiv'd be­fore we are conscious of any happi­ness. Like Pigmalion we fall in Love with a Statue of our own making, and then think its Beauty not artifi­cial but native. The mist of our ig­norance [Page 46] recommends a cloud to our greedy Embraces instead of Juno, nay we Love to be cheated, and think it a part of humanity to be liable to slips, errors and misprisions. We are not damaged but gratifi'd in our desires by this profitable imposture, since the cheat pleases us more than the jugling shifts of Legerdemain, and inriches us with no false appear­ance of gain. Our credulity makes us truly happy, and (what is the com­mon lot of men of great Estates) we become more rich by the fame and suspicion of Wealth, than the largeness of our fortune. Go then enjoy securely those Treasures which you owe to the kindness of fancy, not to the bounty of providence; Those most fortunate collations not of a smiling fortune, but of an obliging opinion; those goodly possessions, which neither when the Gods frown, nor when fortune is dispos'd to be wantonly mischievous, are liable to danger. Which no violence, no nor another opinion will snatch away, un­less to give a new supply. For al­though opinion as the Sister of for­tune or Nature be pleas'd with vari­ety, [Page 47] yet the Love of variety will not Hence the levity of Loving is a remedy to the de­fects of things. recommend Monsters to her. She is not wanton to that pitch of levity, but only redresses the defects of things. The vicissitudes and changes of the af­fections like those of things are set out not so much for Beauty, as So­lace and remedy. We reprehend the wandring and Alternate heat of Love to the discredit of Nature, not of those men who daily cast off their Thred bare Companions like old sutes, who take a desultorious tast of men as Bees do of Flowers, and because good is always to them in flux and uncertain­ty as truth is to Philosophers, re­solve to Love sceptically: Neither is it an Argument of inconstancy, but judgment, thus to wander with choice, and to collect that from all in various 'Tis a sign of judg­ment and choice. Gleanings, which is in no one place to be had enough. No one thing is worthy long enjoyment; and these shadows of vertues rather than real ones, which we so much boast of, like rich Pictures endure only a cursory view at a distance, cannot bear the delay of nice observation, and vanish while leisurely beheld. All that's in that Pompous Title of Constancy [Page 48] is not of such moment, that I should not do Homage to a greater merit, that I should not prefer a brighter Star, because once born under an ob­scurer Planet, that I should obstinate­ly adhere to defects and losses, left I should be said to have departed from my first condition; or lastly that I should endure my chance, or what is altogether as erroneous, my own will, as calmly and immoveably as I would my destiny. Give me leave I pray, more passionately to admire those Rays of a diviner mind which I first adored in you, now more Brightly Shining in another. Suffer the progresses of Love which you first taught me. The same you who at first taught me to prefer the candor of your mind before the whiteness of Lillies or faces, and a rude simplicity before the enough easie, but foolish and too fond humanity, have now also taught me after the sight of a more Dazling Splendor to con­temn your self, unless I may not hence be so properly said to contemn, as adore you with more devotion under [...] more glorious representation. Just so the lesser Lamps of Heaven are not extinct but over shadow'd, when [Page 49] out of modesty they withdraw at the appearance of a greater Glory. Why do you call out upon the truth of Gods and men? I Love you only on this condition, so long as you either are, or to me seem the best.

Do but look down upon the brute All appe­tite, even the most insensate tends to a better na­ture as to its Idea. Love sports of Nature (though 'tis a shame to owe the Documents of life and vertue to such low instances) and see how all the parts even the worst in the Divine workmanship have an innate tendency to what is best, and are carried with admirati­on and desire to a greater excellency. 'Tis purposely so order'd by Nature, who is conscious of her own injuri­ous and shameful sloth, who oftner suffers abortion than brings forth, and in Comparison to the exemplars and Ideas of things is deliver'd of as many Monsters as Creatures. She has therefore indued them with a plastick vertue, that they may advance near­er to their Ideas, and so become their own Correctors. Her work comes at first out of her hands in half and im­perfect pieces, till she joyns one part to another and so compleats both. This one ambition of aspiring to [Page 50] something better, moves every thing to leap the Pale of its own condition. For this reason the Heliotrope though rooted fast in the gound, follows the Course of the Sun, and with an op­posite mouth drinks in the Sun beams tell she her self become a Vegetable Star. The double end of na­tural Love. With the same Ardour of ambition, while stones receive the Aethereal rays, they become a glittering concretion of Massy light, and what before were only the rigid Excrescencies of a cragged bulk; now look like gems, and dart forth glimmerings as well in a Rock, as in a Lovers Ring. With this sweet art while the Sea partakes as clearly of the motion as the image of the Moon, it enjoys the intelligence of the Celestial Orb as its own. With this lovely envy while the Steel is drawn with admiration of the Load stone, and by and by with mutual breathings and Nuptial Em­braces exhales its pretious Soul, as if 'twere now it self become a Load-stone exercises Charms of its own, and draws other things as much as 'tis drawn it self. There is indeed in na­ture, as well as in common life an ambitious indigency, and cringing to [Page 51] Superiours. Neither is there any thing more regarded in another than the eminency of its order. Had we no such thing as a Philosopher, yet we have Philomathematical Waves, which shew the wain of the Moon with more certainty than Almanacks and Ephemerides. We have Astronomi­cal Flowers, which teach us the moti­on of the Sun, and instead of stri­king watches, give an Articular no­tice of the declining day. Had this Theater of the World no Philosophi­cal spectator, to consider its rarities with Scrutiny and Inspection, yet all Nature her self is inamour'd to admi­ration with her own Beauty, and as both the eyes of the World, so both Worlds speculate each other by course, and feed themselves with mu­tual interviews. And this lower seems to aspire to the dignity of the higher with the same ambition as is used by the commonalty of Spain, when they Emulate the Grandieur of the Nobility; and with the same art which the Commons of Rome used, when the Plebeians were admitted to match among the Patricians. The Au­thor of Nature has made the welfare of [Page 52] things too much his concern by com­mitting Besides these there is a farther end of de­sire in man, divi­nity and Eternity. the world to the Tuition of Love, so that now an idle and un­active Deity, will either not be own'd or contemn'd.

But whereas other things are of such a composure that they can only re­ceive and want, man alone knows how to Love. Nature has shadow'd forth in them a rude semblance of affection, only that she might make a prelusory specimen of that in viler materials, which she intended to com­pleat in man with Elaborate Accu­racy. Although I must also acknowledge that the affections of men leisurely improve according to the same degrees and proportions as they themselves do, and as if they had several births, are first endow'd with life, then with sense, and at last with reason; and that Love which is at first callow and creeps by the instinct of Occult sympathy, by and by is Fledged with desire, and at last improves into hu­manity, and reason, which was before only Brute tendency, or the predo­minant bias of an Element. For when the as yet tender warmth only broods on the breast, much less has hatch'd [Page 53] the glowing sparks, the desire scarce gives credit to it self. When the The vari­ous de­grees and ages of all Loves. mind is newly smitten, and is hardly yet Conscious either of the wound or the Author of it; she feels just such innocent prickings as Children do from the Rupture of their Gums, when they breed Teeth. Then you may see a pretty specimen of Infant simplicity, those who have been born scarce long enough to view one another a little, beginning to sigh together as one Myr­le-tree whispers to another. For in these early expresses of Passion these Infant Lovers don't understand the Air which they ventilate in the groves of Venus, while they wind Embraces insensibly, and like those who lazily stretch themselves, naturally seek out for something to rest their extended arms on. You may now if you will call these the insinuating arms of an Ivy, or the winding branches of a Vine. But assoon as they improve their Love so far as to imprint and devour smacking Embraces, you don't see men but Ring-Doves. When they breath out their querulous A­mours in wanton chidings, you hear Turtles, as being now a little more [Page 54] by Nature disposed to benevolence, so that they affect others with sweet and innocent fondness, and imitate the kindness of the Dolphin, or Li­zard. But men of an adult Flame are seiz'd with a more generous im­pulse though blind. By this blind im­pulse we are carried upwards like Doves of Venus with seal'd eyes, and with a most vigorous endeavour ig­norantly aspire to Heaven as to a Nest. Thus the very defects of Lo­vers The kinds of Bastard Love and errors of Lovers shew a disposition greedy of Di­vinity, and the errours of this one Passion aspire to something immor­tal. So that even that more impure itch, which derides the Barren mar­riages of Vertues and Copulations of Souls, which seeks something to fill its Embraces, and adores the Planet Venus though threatning its birth-day with Storms and Shipwracks of life, seems yet to be inflamed not so much with the Torches of Hymen, as with the desire of Eternity. While with such Ardency it longs to out-live it self, and by a long series of posteri­ty to patch up as well as it can a successive immortality. Even he whose friendship is purchas'd with a [Page 55] a supper, whom like a Brute Creature a bit does befriend to you, who is in Love with your Kitchin not your self, though he Loves to the proportion of his stomach: And he who values a Even they who Ne­gotiate in the Mer­chandise of affecti­on aspire to some­thing di­vine. man after the same rate as he does a farm, attending on him with the same sordid expectation as he does on his field, who uses his friendship as a thing of profit with a mercenary mind, and still reckons himself among his friendships: Why this latter well skill'd in the value of Love uses it as money, but as a Divine Coin, wherewith we men Negotiate with the Gods, and en­rich our selves with a Deity. And the former enjoys his Love to Luxury and Banquet, for he thinks it the Nectar of his Supreme Deity, as well as of Venus. Both of them truly with less Covetousness consult their own profit, either he that seeks a Patri­mony They are more libe­ral who do good of their own accord. by his affection, or he that diets upon it, than he who hastily dis­charges his sinking Ship of her peri­shing fraught, and by a free disburse­ment of his goods transfers them out of the reach of Chance or Fate before they perish. Who although he ex­pects no returns, nor sells his gifts, [Page 56] yet has already receiv'd a most am­ple recompence, the very Collation of a kindness, and although he has given never so much, yet has laid up a greater Treasure for himself, the Vertue of beneficence. So that to give great largesses, and such as mo­desty oftentimes forbids to receive, does the most advantage to the Au­thor; either by rendring him awful, that nothing mean will be expected from him, or by representing the benefit more necessary and natural than either Rain or Sun-shine. So that from him as from the Sun benefits will be exacted as Debts, and he will seem to do only according to Custom and Duty, as often as he acts generously, so that all gratitude will be taken a­way through the frequency and ample­ness of his Collations.

What shall I think of him who seeks to please, not to Love me? Whom I repair to as a Summer-bower, that may afford me shade and security, but which is of no use to me in the rage of Win­ter? Whom as many of us as have any severity mixt with our Loves are wont to Alarm with this grave: Apo­thegm, A friend as a Wife, is a word [Page 57] of Dignity not of pleasure. You have Friend and Wife are names of honour. found out a new way of being Libi­dinous without Embraces, you have deflowred your Love with this kind of Lasciviousness, worse than that of the stews. Industriously to please is the trick of wheedlers, and the lu­scious venom of a Pander. To treat too daintily, is a kind of ang­ling: To fawn with emulous offici­ousness is like a Wooer, and belongs rather to the rudiments of Love than the life of Lovers. Far be't that you should take that Creature for a friend, who is a torment to you while you desire him, and a tediousness when you possess him. And yet you are not much out, if you think that all Lovers wander in the fields of Elysium, and that Flowers spring up where ever they tread. No other are the joys of Heaven than to Love and to be lov'd, no other are the joys of Earth. That Divine Ardor which makes the Empyreal Heaven to be what it is, and wherein will consist the hap­piness of the future life, must be the only Solace of this. In all other things we are Passive, these we only enjoy and delight in which are the Issues of [Page 58] our desire and choice, and which in those There is no plea­sure any­where but from Love other uneasinesses divert our pain. Thus have we seen in a Tempest the two Brothers rejoyce in a greedy con­course, bringing as much joy to them selves as to the Mariners, Congratula­ting their united beams, whereby they lose each other in a mutual embrace, and thence become two again. Thus have we known the Votaries of Venus sur­rounded with a Cloud, brought like Brides under a Veil of silk with more secret triumph to their joys. We confess there is something in Love more powerful than calamities, more magnificent than honour, more splendid than Riches, more charm­ing than pleasures, for whose sake we contemn all these, yea for whose sake we do not contemn them, but have them in the greater veneration. It does so solely please, that by it all things else though never so vile please exceedingly. It has such a priviledge of Majesty that nothing can disparage it, that it clears from infamy, and sooner reflects a lustre on the great­est reproaches of life, than it can be sullied from any thing else. Hence 'twas that this was added a thirteenth [Page 59] to the labours of Hercules, and serv'd as an ingredient to make up his praises, that he not only brandish'd his Club, but held a Distaff, with which (though he had tam'd all o­ther Wild Beasts) yet one Monster still remain'd to be subdued, whom only the instruments of her own Arts can Conquer, a Woman. Why do you wonder so much at the inviola­ble Rays of the Sun, since Cupids Torch can also enlighten even the most sor­did things, and yet remain untain­ted?

Why then does the hunger bitten mind so eagerly and to no purpose hunt after something Divine in other things, since it has it at home? For indeed whatsoever we Love, is to us a Deity. Whatsoever you desire that's Jupiter. Is it so? What does that sordid Lover who admits no consort without a Dowry, kiss, buy and count Jupiter imprinted on his Money? Yes, but 'tis Jupiter shining under a covert of Gold. What, and does the Libidi­nous voluptuary itch after Jupiter? Yes, but 'tis Jupiter turn'd Stallion under the form of a Satyr, and con­verted into the Semeleian flames. Yes [Page 60] and so does that delicate Trencher­friend sup upon Jupiter, but in the shape of a Swan, and lurking under the soft Down of Luxury. He lusts also after Jupiter, but 'tis that of Gany­medes steep'd in Nectar and Ambrosia. Now I sound the depth of the busi­ness, neither am I quite deceiv'd by those Rhetoricians of the Gods, the Poets. Now I perceive that they were not the Loves of Jupiter but our own which clothed the Deity in such un­worthy forms.

But because slippery and wandring Love never rests till 'tis arrived to the Pinnacle of perfection, or by a plea­sing delusion thinks so at least, being always a Companion of the best and Love is only of one. greatest, or what appears so, to this it must always adhere, in this always acquiesce, as the Heaven of its soul, the Center of its fire. The Lover will not I presume be at leisure to entertain the Charms (if there can be any) of a new felicity, neither will he find in his heart to Love an­other, no nor himself. He will e­ver complain of the dispropor­tion between his power and his desires, and that he is wanting to him [Page 61] whom he surfeits and wearies with excess of fondness. And after he has thus made over all his affection to one, and still thinks he has not done enough, he must needs have as little Courtesie left for all others as a Monk or Stoick. Begon thou Monster of Sy­racuse who hast invented a new Ty­ranny to thy other cruelties, a Pair-Royal in friendship. Who wouldest not kill a pair of friends, but divide them, and corrupt their fidelity by in­terception of it, from a Tyrant con­verted into a Rival. But tell me Ty­rant, suppose you were assumed a third Lover into the League of this pair, tell me which would you pre­fer in kindness? You must needs in­cense the other, now on the same score jealous of your self. But if you will distribute your kindness equally, suppose one of them brought to exe­cution, will you die for this, or live for the sake of the other? You stand like a dubious needle between two Load­stones, by the neighborhood of two resolutions detain'd from both. The distraction of your wish prompts you at once to live and die. Thus the Pendulous Lover about to adhere [Page 62] to neither, and to both, is undone by this equality of affection. One ex­acts tears from you, the other an ef­fusion of laughter. The partiality of your officiousness to one, makes you injurious to the other. So that your mind distracted several ways like Me­tius between the contrary draughts of Horses, seems deservedly to suffer the punishment of his perfidiousness. Thus it happens as often as you undertake to be a Pluralist in affection, and at once to Love whom you can hardly see at the same time, unless you were squint-eyed or double-faced. Do but consider the dominion and compli­ance which is in Love; Here the new Eteocles and Polynices must duly command and serve by turns, both of these are of a singular nature, and will not admit of two sharers. If you fansie Love to be a God, he Loves to reside in one Heaven, if fire that also is confined to one Sphere, if death the Gods forbid a frequent expiration, or that we should com­mit our souls to the bosome of an­other more than once, since they grant us but once to live. Or if you call a Lover the Mirror, Coin or Seal [Page 63] of his dear object (all which receive both form and value from the impres­sion) know then that this looking­glass can be inform'd but with one intire image at a time, that this Coin can be innobled with the face but of one King, that this Seal like that of a letter is closed fast to all but one, and that all these are not capa­ble of a new impression without the defacing of the former. But if you consi­der Polygamy in the marriage of Souls is as bad as incest. that friendship is nothing less than the Marriage of Souls, you should think it an hanious Crime in these Masculin Hymens to admit Polygamy, by superinducing a new one to un­marry the old, and to Cuckold ones friend.

Does then that Passion which di­stinguishes Yet it is so of one as not to be inhu­mane to­ward all others. humane Societies from the Herds of the field by too much de­votedness bring men about again to the level of Beasts, and to Stoical bar­barity, the contempt of all? And must he who loves one intirely, hate all man­kind besides? The gods forbid. No­thing certainly is more courteous than Love and Philosophy, nothing more generous, nothing (except the gods) affords a greater Patronage to [Page 64] the world. The very familiarity of friendship makes their minds easie and soft, and disposes them to benevo­lence, just as a marriage does young Brides, who now put off their Coy­ness, But so as a new bride less diffi­cult and coy. and use more freedom of conver­sation towards all others. They com­municate their Rays like the Sun to the whole world, though they gild Rhodes with a peculiar and distinguishing Lus­ture. You must know that one man is dedicated to another just like a book, sent to one, but to be read by all, yet after the perusal of that one. We owe much gratitude to those can­did and generous Souls so much re­sembling the genius of Heaven, in that they favour not one only man but all mankind with a benign influ­ence: Who as if they were the first Parents look upon all Nations as their own families, esteem all as dear to them as their kindred, and as if they were born every where, or had an amplitude of mind equal, and Com­mensurate to the whole Globe, stand affected to every Country as their Native one, and so deservedly find it. But this we don't call friendship but a certain benevolence and wan­dring [Page 65] courtesie. Neither do we find Polyphily is not friendship but bene­volence and a wan­dring courtesie. fault with this, or accept it with less Candor than they use even to­ward their enemies. But we would only curb the too wanton and Court­ly affections of those who pride them­selves in the number of Salutations, and retinue of friends no less than in a guard of lackies, ambitious as much of the badges of Vertue as of State, and loving to sweat in the throng of Clients. But this is the manner of proud Ladies who are not over­stock'd Polyphily without benevo­lence is not so much as courtesie, but sa­vours of pride and lascivious­ness. with chastity with a pretence of obligingness to insnare others af­fections, openly to dispence their kind Embraces, but still as to one on­ly, studiously to compose a face, to level particular nods at him and him, to scatter up and down enticing glan­ces, to divide here and there flattering smiles: And lastly, as it were to betroth their souls. And assoon as the prey is inveigled (as it frequently falls out) to withdraw the enchanting lure. O the most vile sort of pride! To number the flocks of their Lovers a­mong the rest of their feminine interests and improvements of Beauty.

[Page 66] But since whosoever is hot in the highest degree of true genuine fire, has not the will to Love less, nor the power to Love more: Neither is it enough that he disregards others, unless he also contemn himself, and deny himself as well as others a share in his own flames, freezing within his own Sphere, and remaining a cold Sa­lamander in the midst of the incir­cling flames. Since he is wholely remov'd from his own breast, for­gets himself, is wholely concern'd for his friend, and fears nothing on his own behalf, unless lest he should not act the part of a friend as he ought. Since he is wise for another, and blind as to his own interest, committing himself to the Fates, or to what is a greater safeguard, the care of his friend. (For he on the other hand is as much concern'd with fears and forecasts in his behalf. He inspirits him like an assisting form, so that he resembles the Heavens in being govern'd by an intelligence.) Since I say he thus renounces himself whosoever inserts himself into ano­ther, and consigns himself as one dead to Oblivion; and since (as it [Page 67] should be) the only dear thing to him is his friend, in whom he enjoys a more vital life after death, and a­bout whom he sportfully hovers like a pale Ghost about his body; The School-man of Amours has stated an un­just measure rather of hatred than af­fection, the Love of one self: And has done ill in proposing us to our selves as patterns of Heroical Love. For of what small account is every one with him­self? Where is that man who not capti­vated to anothers desires, nor sea­son'd with manners not his own, does live less to another than to himself? Neither is it to be imputed to our vices but to our Vertues, that we become Vassals to anothers pleasure. Some Vertues are severe upon their owners, and are never disserviceable but to our selves, which yet to others bring in a great income. That modesty which promotes its own disparage­ment, and humbly dislikes all purple but that of a blushing face, ambiti­ous of contempt, yet transfers the Encomiums due to it self upon ano­ther with a steel'd boldness. That ambition which toiles on anothers ac­count is graced with the title of fide­lity [Page 68] and Candour. That armour which is worn on the breast does but only forge a man into a shield Errant for the defence of others, though with the expence of his own safe­ty. No man dy's for the mere prevention of his own death, but that he may intercept the fatal ar­row from his Parents, Children, or some others. What did I say, no man dies? No man lives on his own account. But if bare nature and so­litary Vertue without friendship can produce such a combination or rather self-dedication, that every one should count himself the least part of himself, let it be a shame that friend­ship (which adds to Vertues new strength, accomplishment and huma­nity) should prescribe any other mea­sure The mea­sure of be­nevolence should be to know none. to benevolence besides this one, to know none at all, or circumscribe any other limits than those which are mark'd out by the desires of Lo­vers. Let him not Love at all (and I am sure I cannot imprecate a heavier Curse) who tempers his affection and is not rather ruled by it, who warily Loves to such a set degree as if ready to hate, or who deals out his [Page 69] affection in proportions, giving and receiving favours with a pair of scales. He may perhaps return Love but not Love directly, who answers his Lover just as he pledges his Companion, precisely so much.

And now I stand amused with a long veneration, like a sweetly confused Inamorato who has wasted all his eye­sight upon a Divine form, and is un­certain even after the greatest Criti­cism of interview, which part of the Soveraign Beauty first deserves his ad­miration, and is arrived only thus far, to admire his own astonishment, and to pay equal adoration to all the excellencies, as if every one were su­preme, and variously to assent to the praises of parties differently affected. I hear Dionysius defining Love to be a The defi­nitions of Love. It is a Circle returning from good through good to good. Dio­nysius. Circle returning from good through good to good. And I confess 'tis comprehended in this ingenious Emblem. Hence I look upon a Ring not only as a pledge but an Hieroglyphick of Love. Cupid represents to me this Circle while he is bending his bow, toge­ther with the semicircle of his own body. This Circle is decypher'd to me by the continual heat of Lovers, [Page 70] which with the blood is carried round (according to the modern Tenet of Physicians) in a Circular motion. 'Tis like the Elementary fire where the immortal flame feeds it self, and is its own fuel; whoever loves that which he hath lov'd retreats by a spherical motion in his own track: and he that loves only that he may Love, the same returns upon himself, closes up himself.

Aristophanes tells me (and I easily The whole Mystery of Love con­sists in be­ing redu­ced to that from whence we were. Aristopha­nes. believe him) that the whole mystery of Love consists in being reduced to that from whence we were. For I see all things by a natural motion retire into their principles. And perhaps those Magnetick Charms which they fansie to be lodg'd in the whole earth, are found by Philosphers, Mariners and ships to be only in the Native Country. The Law of nature obliges us to bestow our lives upon those from whom we receiv'd them, and by a certain series of piety and Scale of alliance, to adore those three names dearer than our lives, our Country, Pa­rents' and God. I know not whether I may call man (like Oedipus) a blind and incestuous Lover, or rather pro­vident [Page 71] and pious, who is always ina­mor'd with something of his original, and is as cordially affected toward it as to his Parent. Neither is he much mis­taken, who takes that for his Parent whence he dates the rudiments of a new life, and by a kind of revival renews his Nativity at the expence of an ex­traordinary Love. Thus to resign up our souls is to retrieve and re­make them. But you O Thales, by leaping into the water, and you Em­pedocles into the fire, the one by chance and the other out of design, made too much hast to resolve not only Philosophy, but the Philosophers them­selves into their principles, and to plunge the vital particles of your souls into their Elements. But yet so the errors of this Philosophy excuse those of the affections, and since our hungry Souls as well as bodies are nourish'd with those things whereof they con­sist; you'd swear the Drunkard had a liquid Soul, and the Tyrant a bloody one infused into them, you'd swear the fordid misers were just inlivened out of the mud, and that the Sto­ical and barbarous were hewn out of a Cragged Rock, and so still con­tinue [Page 72] the Statues of men. But if we fan­sie with Aristophanes in Plato that from Plato's Conviv. the common seminary of souls, or from the joynt Society of a man here­tofore double-body'd, the familiar and Colleague-Souls were sent into the world, methinks this they render probable, while like the parts of a divided insect, they seek out for th' o­ther half, or when they run into em­braces at first sight, as persons mindful of their former intimacy. So that the Platonick man is now all o­ver memory, whose Love as well as Philosophy is nothing else but Remini­scence.

Yea rather whose Love is the very The first▪ Philoso­phy is the desire of Eternity. Diotima. exercise of Philosophy (for I willingly and deservedly ascribe both to you Diotima) that is, to elevate our hea­ven-born Souls together with their bodies to a perpetual intuition of Heaven (just as the bird of the Sun is fed only with his Raies) and to vegetate them with a desire of Eter­nity. This is that Mysterious ar­dour which makes us Mortals always emulous of Divine perfection out of Love with the meanness of our con­dition, and for a remedy hastens to [Page 73] strip the man of the part which is frail. Hence as if we had a Legion of eyes, we take a prospect (which is more than the Sun himself can do) of both ends of the earth at once. Hence Amphitryo could at once discharge the affairs of his House and of the Camp, and though remote accompa­ny his Wife, and that not (as the Poets will have it) in the fiction of disguise. Hence circumscribed with no bounds either of time or space, we live another life after the first, either in our friends the Guar­dians of our now alienated souls, or in our Children the Heirs of our transmitted life, both lending and borrowing breath.

While I muse on these thoughts, The de­sire of enjoying Beauty. Plato. Plato offers me a nearer experiment: And I presently turn'd Platonick, swear that this Cupid (though never so blind, and content only with thought where­with he persues Divine Objects, and yet born from the sight) is nothing but a desire of enjoying and forming Beau­ty in something Beautiful. The truth is we are willing to enjoy, not being able always to content our selves with the barren delight of Contem­plation [Page 74] and Courtship, that from the conflux of associated splendor, as from the Conjunction of Stars, the Glory and influence may encrease, and our Star improve into a Constel­lation. And as Pictures, so faces of too Majestick Beauty whose blandish­ments are above our fortune and hopes, affect the spectators with some pleasure, no desire. And that por­tion of Beauty which recreates the sight with the sweetness of Symmetry and Complexion only, will find more spectators than lovers, as setting forth the prettiness and graces of a delight­some prospect, such as are better re­presented in painted than living faces. Nothing that's barren and dead excites vital affections, nothing that's inanimate influences the Soul. Neither is there greater pleasure in And of forming it in some­thing Beautiful. enjoying than in forming of Beauty. There's a natural energy which pri­viledges the mind as well as face with the art of imaging it self, where­ever it fixes its aspect. Hence 'tis that all Beauty delights in a Look­ing-glass, and rather than want a spectator applies it self to its own image looking back on it self. I ap­peal [Page 75] to you Socrates the Master both of Love and Morality, whose employment was the same when a Philosopher, and when heretofore a Statuary. You still continue your old trade of carving and pollishing men, but you seek out more excellent materials whereby to dignifie your Mechanism. And for this reason you stock your School like a Seraglio with such handsome pupils as Phaedrus Nothing is lov'd but under the notion of Beatiful. and Alcibiades, who might easily im­bibe your soul, and return you your image with advantage, as being more clear than a Looking-glass, more ten­der than wax. Whatsoever that is which like the Stars with its heaven­ly light transcends the envy of Mor­tals, invites a Religious awe and with a specious lure intices Souls to it self, does indeed so wholely possess them as not to suffer them to turn aside to another object. Nothing can dazle and inflame our minds but what is presented to us under the tincture of these Raies, but what moves and strikes upon the senses. Our very vices impose upon us under the amiable mask of Vertues. And as often as we are pleas'd to err with nature, [Page 76] and with a Cross grain'd Love to de­light in such Children which their Parents behold with horror, as often as we seek among herds and Mon­sters for something to be adopted into humane society as well as into a Constellation, we have this pleasant priviledge to boast of, that we need not fear a rival, and to pretend an incongruous diversion in the jarrings of nature, and lastly to be able to shew something to the beholders more ugly than our selves. Unless Because nothing is deform'd in Nature. some will maintain that there is no­thing deform'd in nature, since those Creatures which the Author of them has doom'd to obscurity as the shame of the Creation, lest they should defile the light, have a decency from their very horror, and set off the face of the universe like Moles and shades. For we ought not presently to conclude that which is less grateful to the sight to be down-right ugly, but a rare and unusual spectacle, and such as the nice and curious use to procure at any Cost. What may not there be Sacred where owls and the most vile Creatures, have been deified, and a­dor'd by men? Where since there is [Page 77] no deformity, neither is there any ha­tred, There is nothing also of ha­tred or Antipathy in things. nor the name of Antipathy used but among the Sects of Philosophers? why do you tell me among your lectures of sobriety how much the Colewort de­clines the Vine? Even as much as the abstemious patient upon the advice of a Physician, not because he loaths the wine, or for the sake of temperance, but merely to consult his health. So the Wolf preys upon the Lamb, and the fire upon the water, not out of any ha­terd, but for self-preservation. Nei­ther do they avenge injuries, but en­deavour by the most close embrace to convert another into themselves. So neither does one man abhor the person of another, but only his in­humanity as a vice, and so is con­cern'd for himself. Neither do we envy other men their endowments for any spite we have at them, but are only too sollicitous for our selves, either because we think anothers cre­dit a diminution of our own, or else because willing to become cheaply good, we would adopt the Vertues of others to our selves with the sole labour of a wish. If there be any con­tention in nature, sure 'tis a loving one, [Page 78] such as constitutes and increases com­mon-wealths, a Social robbery, a con­sulting our welfare by alternate losses, neither are these to be call'd spoils, but gifts indulg'd by course. Ah cruel Love, if these Wars were managed by your darts, if Helen must be still obtain'd through Rapin and Slaughter, and Venus must belong only to Mars! And yet 'tis worth the while to die that we may indear her to us. Nei­ther do I wonder since an ambitious vying for Beauty bred a quarrel among Goddesses, if poor Paris and the rest of Mortals with rival ambition should put in for the fair prize. From the time that Love the parent of the world wrought out a Symphony from the dis­cord of things, and wedded together Vulcan and Venus in a mutual Embrace, that is, flames and waters, and cemen­ted Love the Artificer of things, and their Beauty was like other Ar­tificers the first admi­rer of its own work. the most disagreeing things in a sort of checquer-work. From the time I say that he hung out this great frame of the Universe, like a rich Map adorn'd with Beauty and order, he stood himself like other Artificers the first Judge and ad­mirer of his own work, & made the first experiment of those Charms of Beau­ty which he himself imparted. This is [Page 79] (if you would know) that order of beau­ty from which things derive not soft­ness and infirmity, but at once Or­nament and Compactness. I take Beauty to be nothing else but the Consummation, Quintessence and ma­turity of every thing. I think that That is Beautiful which is all that it should be. Beauty is not soft­ness but the vigour and ripe­ness of e­very thing The same innate vi­gour gives decency, strength and Orna­ment. Beautiful and splendid which is all that which it should be. Observe how the same innate vigour gives strength and Beauty to the Arm, how jewels throughly imbued with it send forth soft Raies among their rigid sparklings! How the lively moisture at the root makes fertil, and adorns with the Verdure of an Emerald! Thus we find all by experience and yet cease not from wonder, that a mind composed within smooths out the forehead, an ingenuous Texture of thoughts recommends the face be­yond the greatest Artifice of dress, and that a refined mind serenes more than the blood. The Soul shines through her Native Veil as a Ladie's face through that of Silk, or as the Beauty is a certain sublimate of the body, the Flower of internal Vertue. An eflux of the soul. All Beauty consists of Proportion, of the knowledge of the soul and the manners of the body. [Page 80] obscurer Sun dispenses his Raies here and there and Strains day-light through a cloud. I am apt to be­lieve that the Divine guest does choose out a fit habitation for it self, or ac­cording to its proportion like Snails, forms a house contemporary and equal to its owner. So graphically does the body express the lineaments of the soul, that no Garment seems more distinctly to decypher those of the body. This, this is that brightness of the unsullied soul which illustrates every feature, and moulds the limbs into legible Characters, that by the likeness of souls others may be allu­red, till the Original form being ob­serv'd and the Deity within disco­ver'd, the earthy mould be disregard­ed. For alas what an inconsidera­ble thing is that Beauty of a face which entertains our eyes with the daily spring of fresh graces, which we shew one to another in a rapture, and although possess'd with a Rival concern, yet call in Auxiliary votaries to share in our admiration? We are taken only with a superfi­cies, a Colour, a reflexion of light, yea a most empty shadow, which if we [Page 81] gaze long upon, it wears away and disappears before our eyes. And what a poor little thing is that frame and Structure of Limbs delineated as with a Rule and Compass? If that be all, Beauty is consum­mated in the con­sonancy and sym­metry of the com­plexion and lines or frame of moti­ons. Statues may boast of a neater out­side than man, and the house of a more elegant model than the inhabitant. What an inconsiderable thing is that motion which lends such a graceful mean to bodies imitable by no Pain­ters? Suppose it more soft and uni­form than the Downy glidings of the Celestial Orbs or of time, Careless, loose and unaffected, it has this on­ly Apology for its meanness, that while it pleases, lest it should also prove tedious, it passes away, ex­tinct even while it begins. But all this while I seem too partial to the errors of Lovers, and the Encomiums of Beauty, by supposing all that which All the grace of the body is either imaginary or the paint of opinion. is thought handsome in bodies to be the shadows and imitations of a real decency, and not rather the dreams of imagination, and the paint of our own opinion. For 'tis not that which we behold, but what we imagin to our selves, that we are in Love with. Tell me if you can whence it comes [Page 82] to pass that the same face is of so mutable a Beauty, as to cause an a­versation in others when they meet it, which to you transcends the Beau­ty of the Stars? Whence is it that some are mightily inamour'd with the soft and hypocritical resemblance of the other sex, and others again are more taken with the somewhat more than masculin horror of an un­polish'd countenance? Whence is it that to some what is so little as al­most to escape the sight is the more ac­ceptable, under the notion of delica­cy and prettiness; and to others again that which is ample and fills the eyes, seems the only comely and Majestick object? Why, the changeable co­lour of a pretty face like Pigeons necks borrows an imaginary Beauty which it has not, from various aspects, and diversity of postures.

I'll deliver my thoughts with free­dom: What ever that appearance is which feeds the eyes, 'tis either im­aginary and of such a nature that we must needs lose it when awaken'd Or if real, 'tis un­worthy to detain the soul. out of our sweet dream; or if real, 'tis unworthy to terminate our souls, and should only provoke, inform and [Page 83] send them farther. How can that strike so gratefully on the mind, which the eye only enjoys and knows not how to communicate? For the contagion of no Beauty except that of the mind, is so great as to trans­cribe it self on the beholder as on Water or a looking-glass. It must some­way resemble God and our own souls, that is be incorporeal, whatsoever It must be of kin to God and our own Souls that is incorpo­real, what ever lodg­es in the mind. Even that Beauty of the body is imma­terial. does but sojourn in our minds, much less is adopted by the affections. Although even that very air of the body of how little force soever, be also something immaterial, and like the soul rules at large, all in all, and all in every part. 'Tis easily to be seen, there is some efflux, Ray and I know not what vigor either of the soul or of an Idea, which running through all the actions diffuses it self through­out ever member, and assimulating all things to it self, collects the Systeme of graces into the face, where they settle as in their center.

Here the Boy Cupid keeps his Court But be­cause the shadow of Beauty breeds on­ly a sha­dow of Love. enthroned in the Metropolis of Beauty, here he plays with the beholders, kind­rles his darts from the wanton flashes of eyes, and hurles living flames. Here [Page 84] indeed Love plaies in his minority, but when grown to maturity he chang­es both his Camp and Artillery, first seating himself in the middle region be­tween the mind and the body, the As­pect, he sports innocently in the confines of both. But by and by he advances up to the Soul and enjoys a pure and se­raphick flame, or descends to the body and like a Meteor deceives with a gross and fallacious blaze. And to use no more undervaluing invectives, this one thing abundantly confirms the infelicity of this Passion, that it always has more influence on the ab­sent than the present, and that the sight or Embrace of a body does al­ways drive us either to loathing or madness. What God is this which The error of this Passion is punish'd with self­disdain. Chastises the madness of erring Cupid with his own desires? Who is't com­pels him still to languish for what he enjoys most of all, and so Passionately to refuse what just now he more passi­onately long'd for? He protests these were not the joys he sought for, but that while he stood unresolv'd what he should desire, and follow'd the con­duct rather of his eyes than judge­ment, he lighted upon them by a blind [Page 85] and unthinking tendency. But because these are the shadows of that which the mind hankers after, she wings away presently to them like a bird deceiv'd with painted Grapes, but with them as with phantastick food she's rather In the bo­dy we a­dore the shadow of divine Beauty, in the soul the likenss of [...]d, in both a deity un­der a [...] Type. tormented than fed. I must nevertheless acknowledge (since they who ha [...] rangue most sharply against it, feel the influence more vehemently than they deny it) that these shadows of Beauty will beget also shadows of Love. And as in the Soul we adore the similitude of God, so do we a certain shadow of him in the body, in both we worship a Deity under a Type, and by an ignorant devotion become Courters of Divinity. For there's Beauty whether a Ray o God, or a reflexion of an Idea, or an ef­flux of the soul, is al­ways something divine; because 'tis the property of man to love Beau­ty. the same proportion between the mind and God, as between the eye and the Sun; from whose light it gains thus much, that it sees, and that it neither delights nor is able to see any thing else without the sight of him, and yet can't endure to be­hold the fulness of his lustre, and therefore loves to receive his Raies at second hand, to view the Image of his corrected splendor, and to refresh it self with feeble delights and [Page 86] shadows. Whatever that is (whe­ther a Ray of God, or a reflection of an Idea, or an efflux of the Soul) which under the shew of Beauty cap­tivates the eyes and mind, must be something Divine, since 'tis the pri­viledge of man alone to contemplate and be affected with Beauty.

Pardon me if I also ravish'd with the Love of Beauty, am carried beyond all bounds, and leave even my self behind through the extravagance of transport. I am willing to abide here, where I find Love inthroned in the most Beautiful part of the world, in Heaven.

And now I can't forbear venting my anger on those mortifi'd and Cy­nical, Ghosts (whose Sage Morals li­cense them to dislike every thing) who condemn all the Erratas of humanity as the intemperance of solid benevo­lence, who inveigh against this god Cupid, as the ringleader to all luxury and voluptuousness, and the Ingineer of all Tragick intreagues and vallainies, whom we find our Proxy to gain us immortality, and the Author of a Divine nature. This is the reward of all Simple and mutu­a Love. simple and barren Love, which it re­ceives [Page 87] from its own luxurious boun­ty, (for where there is no return of gratitude, Love has the same reve­nue with liberality) it has repay'd it self. 'Tis an abundant reward to have well deserv'd. And yet there's a Love and Love for Love are Twins born and growing up toge­ther. greater reward than all this sought after by Love, to be paid in kind, when souls growing warm together intermingle flames and light awa­kened by mutual allision (as one piece of Iron whets another) and cherish their ardours by a reciprocal propa­gation. They live to one another mutually by an exchange of spirits, and in the bottom of their hearts just as in that of transparent water, their faces answer each other by repercus­sion. Certainly nothing is more sweet than to Love or to be lov'd, except this, to Love and to be lov'd.

For when our Love is unhappily misplaced, and such creatures are be­troth'd to our Embraces which either by a certain necessity of Nature, or by their own fault are ingrateful: When with nuptial solemnity Xerxes em­braces Plato, Polydorus a Statue and Lesbia a Sparrow not more wishing for, than undergoing a Metamorpho­sis, [Page 88] and find the Poetical fables veri­fi'd in themselves being all over anima­ted with the Deity of Love, and by the plastick power and assimulating af­finity of affection converted into trees, stones and Birds, 'tis not the least of all felicity (when there is no other way of Society but that the same per­son personate a Companion to him­self) to feign dialogues, answers and delights proper to ones self, and so to model our happiness to our own, not anothers liking. Methinks it pleases me to see the not altogether fruitless affection return upon its Au­thor, where that is the refuge of de­light which in Amours is esteem'd the chiefest, to Love again our own Love, and like the Sun enjoy our own heat by reflexion at least.

Neither does less pleasure, but more honour attend that other lot, to be belov'd. Whence men more li­berally court others affections than they impart their own. For this is like gods to extend their Dominions in mens hearts without the Pageantry of a Sceptre. This displaies the great­ness of our fortunes and Vertues, and makes us oftener receive [Page 89] the officious services of others, than perform any our selves. Thus the Tro­phies of your excellencies become con­spicuous according to the number of Captive Clients which follow your triumph.

But when on both sides there is an equal contention of officiousness, when there is a Duel of Courtesie not with complemental Ostentation, but with the highest shame of yielding and fear Mutual Love is a parity of reciprocal benevo­lence. Aristotle. of less obliging, then arises that pari­ty of reciprocal benevolence which Aristotle honours with that well known name though of rare instance, friend­ship. Venus felt these reciprocal tides at her birth, and so still continues a flux and reflux of affection. That equality which that Leveller justice has been a long time to no purpose en­deavouring with her Sword and ballance, Love with ease introdu­ces into the world, s [...]ce it al­ways finds equals or makes them so. Sometimes the distances of fortune and merit, cut off the bands of friend­ship oftner than those of place. Ju­piter must descend to the earth and put off the Raies of his Divinity, if he be minded to enjoy the Embraces [Page 90] of Mortals. And so he did; nay for fear lest he should not be familiar and despicable enough, he degraded himself below a man into a Brute Dei­ty, and so procured himself easie ad­mission sooner by contemtibleness than majestick horrour. If you will be re­verenced Sextus, I sh'ant Love you. The story of Semele sufficiently informs what a great and proud punishment 'tis to endure the Society of a God. The Moral's good. An officious cringing Officious­ness to great per­sons is flattery and ambi­rion, not Love and fidelity. to great personages sweet only to the unexperienced, comes nearer to flat­tery than benevolence, and is always suspected as an insinuating Art of be­speaking more than we offer. 'Twas your ambition which brought you hi­ther, not your sincerity, so that you deserve a place among my servants, not among my friends. Now there­fore we are at an equal pitch, when I disappoint you of your hoped for dignity, as you would have brought me down from mine. Yet sometimes 'Tis servi­tude not friendship. we find humble Superiors ambitious of condescension, choosing a reflection upon their Scutcheon, before a diminu­tion of their Courtesie. Alexander acts no longer the Emperours part, and [Page 91] loses those titles in Love which he had won in Conquest. But he loses them with greater glory to Hephestion, con­tent that Hephestion might be King, so that himself might be a part of his Kingdom. He makes over all those honourable courtships which he recei­ved from others to Hephestion, while he serves his Hephestion he seems to en­large his territories, and to enjoy an­other world. We all acknowledge Love to be a sweet and restless desire of pleasing them, who (either by ac­cident or their own Vertues, or lastly our own mistake) have any way grati­fi'd us. It matters not much as in life so in friendship what e'r is the Origin of the heat. It inlivens the heart with a never the less durable and daily moti­on. The importunate votary resolving to tire or overcome you, or indear Barclay's Icon Anim. and please you, heaps one good turn upon an other, and when there is no more room for his officiousness, he serves with empty endeavours, and looking still like one doing good, obliges by his very Well meaning coun­tenance. He cautiously fathoms the inclinations of his friend by heedful [Page 92] experiments, and for the very solli­citous fear of displeasing deserves to please. He thinks it of great use sometimes to have displeas'd, that so he may either hate or correct his be­haviour. For to be as much like him as is possible is all one he thinks with being good and happy. Wherefore he feels his pulse more scrupulously than a Physician, examines the most inward motions of his breast, serves him upon strong presumptions, and executes his wishes scarce yet known to himself, be­fore they discompose him with the first qualms of a breeding desire. Neither will he ever satisfie himself though he has the other abundantly, that it may appear he indulges his officious instinct not with a design of insinua­tion, but for the bare pleasure of serving, as if by the predestination of nature he were mark'd out for a slave to this one person.

You shall know (since you are so inquisitive) that there is a pedigree and origin of Love as well as life. There is an order and mutual respect between some either instituted by na­ture, Simplicius upon Epi­ct [...]tus. or voluntarily undertaken; and this again is either among persons of [Page 93] like or unlike dispositions, which occasions the union of some, and the dissociation of others. But as for that ty of blood, 'tis a mere Contingent thing; such as argues no merit of bene­volence, which because obtruded up­on our unconsenting breasts, we did not admit, but unknowingly sustain. And now it brings as much of burthen with it as of necessity, and what is worse, this Lottery of birth, imposes upon as a necessity of honouring even the most wicked and vile persons, and what's more against the hair yet, it exacts every where an equal and com­mon rate of affection, according to the custom of Countrys, such as must not be diminished, and yet can't well be improv'd higher. Pardon me ye Ghosts The name of friend more Sa­cred than that of Pa­rent. of my kindred, if I adore the name of Friend, as far more Sacred than that of Parent. We indeed owe all that to Love, which by the hereditary er­ror of an easie piety we ascribe to our Parents. For it happens from their own mutual Love not from any kind­ness to us (whom they knew not they should produce but from the Oracle) that we enjoy the benefit of this light. And we with as little natural kind­ness [Page 94] for them rejoice to see the light, not our parents, and being as igno­rant of them as they were before of us, are apt to bestow our unprejudic'd Embraces on any else (as if they were our Parents, or might as well have been) with a fond innocency. So much Philosophy we may learn from that little age, that we are not so much the off-spring of a man as of mankind, and born to all in common, and that na­ture should share in our filial grati­tude. Neither are domestick friend­ships kindled and cherish'd by near­ness of blood, but conversation and the sweet Society in calamities and errors, together with Congratulations arising from common miseries. I am much The union of will as far ex­ceeds that of blood, as reason does na­ture. mistaken if Lovers be not nearer of kin to one another, and engaged in so much the straiter bond, by how much reason exceeds nature, and the force of my own choice is more prevalent than that of Consanguinity. For 'tis the sweetness of conforming to ones own Laws, which makes every man so constantly Loyal to himself. But when nature and choice shall both con­spire, with how prone and easie in­stinct does that affection move the [Page 95] mind, which flows from nature and will link'd together in a silent consent! If it be our lot to be born and educated to the Love of any person (nature and studious care contributing to fashion us after his pattern) if the Stars of any mingled their lights before, in so­ciable and friendly conjunctions, if the species of any be congenial and innate to us from our Nativity (for nature does sometimes either for knowledge or defence like breeding mothers imprint some marks on the members) how greedily do we imbibe their aspects as familiar to us from the Cradle, and more certainly known than by a long conversation! How do we redemand this image as a piece snatch'd from our own Souls! How do we swallow down the breath and voice of this per­son like vital air! How do we run together with an indeliberate propen­sion, without the Ceremony of kind salutations, like Lovers after absence or divorce, renewing their Caresses! Thus these souls involv'd all over in a Voluntary Slavery, engage in a mutual league, not tarrying who shall give the first Love-stroke. Just like those who swear to, and sign bonds without [Page 96] ever reading them, and yet can never dissolve the Sacred ty, nor cancel their solemn, though inconsiderate engagement. 'Tis anothers consent and not their own which ratifi'd these engagements, so that they have made over the liber­ty of consenting, nay the whole right of themselves to the power and plea­sure of another.

But O Cupid the least of gods, and greatest of Deities, I should think it less than your deserts (if yet there Love is a God. could be any thing greater) that you are Deifi'd by those bold Philosophers the Poets. You have this proper­ty of a god, to be unknown and to receive homage from men. You have this also of a god to govern men with a silent influence, that they may yield to your motions though not under­stood by them, or else to draw them by compulsion. To the beck of whose Majesty all contrary Passions pay Alle­giance and attendance. As often as you are disposed to divert your self, the most high flown Pride strikes Sail, the most daring courage trem­bles at the lucid Darts of an Eye; Covetousness it self turns Prodigal in a Voluntary Oblation of rich pre­sents, [Page 97] and the suddainly Eloquent illi­terate Heir now no longer buys Poems with their Poets, but himself becomes inspired and composes. And to pass o­ver with religious silence your other Divine attributes, that you are a Cir­cle, Eternal, immense, and that you engross all that Office of Providence, to preside over, and to preserve, this one thing confirms in me the belief of your Divinity, that your only Religi­on strikes an awe into the most pro­fane. They so manage their Court­ship as if they were performing some Religious Rite. They look passio­nately, view their habit curiously, and compose themselves to all the solem­nity of reverence. And to what end all this? That they may address them­selves to their Mistress as to an Altar. Nay more, that they may be decent e­ven when absent. For whom we love we fansie always present, the Judge of our actions, the supplier of vertuous and ingenious thoughts, the prosperer of all our Heroick under­takings. Whom the Sailer supplicates for a calm, the Travailer for a safe return, the Souldier for Victory and booty, out of which he may make her [Page 98] a present. Well, henceforth let it be permitted to Lovers to Complement one another with Metaphors fetch'd from Heaven, to Court in the Sacred Dialect of Religion.

Neither do I think any one can en­vy at the Divinity of so mild a god, whose anger may be appeas'd without slaughter, who does not like other gods require beasts, but only chearful Votaries for Sacrifice, and that he may not want Temples, erects flaming Al­tars in humane breasts. Nay the lit­tle god himself being converted into It is fire. fire, by a continual supply of flames takes care for his worship. 'Tis cer­tainly so; as often as I see the pensive Inamorato venting his Passion in deep­fetch'd sighs, he minds me of the fire which is immured in a Cloud redou­bling murmurs and thunders, and at last expiring in a fume. As often as I see him bedew'd with the sweat of tears, and boiling over with groans, I call to mind the flames of Aetna and Vesuvius breaking out among the flames of Snow and Ashes; or methinks I see the great Chasms in the mid-sea occasion'd by the eruption of fire. As often as the short-liv'd fire of a [Page 99] counterfeit passion displays it self in imaginary and Scenical flames, I then consider in man fictitious blazes, fires resembling those of the Celestial Lamps, Meteors of affection. Again, Love in this respect resembles fire, in that it serves only to the benefit of men, and the worship of the gods. Again, in that it heats and inlightens our fancies, insomuch that Apollo as well as Bacchus owes his rise to the flames of Love. Again, in that it rages against the Bars of opposition, gathers new strength from allaies and impediments, and is fomented by inju­ries and provocations as fire by the aspersions of Water. Then as to the properties of the Ethereal fire it burns and refreshes, is immortal without fuel, self sufficient, (for Love is con­tent with it self being its own reward) it is inviolable, not to be polluted by the Contagion of filthiness, expia­ting and purging the Crimes, which it cannot admit, equalling the Virgin­excellency of the Vestal flames. Last­ly it has this one quality more of the Celestial fire, that for the security of the Universe it has obtain'd a supre­macy of Station, that 'tis seated in the [Page 100] top of all, guarding and enclosing the inferiour Passions. In this one thing the parallel halts, that it extends its vital influence beyond its Sphere to the production and Conservation of Animals. Thus is Love parallel'd with the two purest and most power­ful things either above or under the Celestial Arch, God and fire.

But among all the Miracles of My­sterious Love this is the most con­founding, Occult Love like a subterra­neous fire burns, but gives no light out­wards. that often times in the interior parts of men as well as of the earth there glows a Subteraneous fire, which spreads its Contagious Fe­ver without the least outward Sym­ptom of a blaze. So that when we feel it burn and yet can't give an ac­count how it came to be kindled (un­less any of us are of opinion that the flame was congenial to the breast, and upon the conviction of this ex­periment grant the soul to be fire) we deny it burns at all. So loth are we to own our ignorance by admi­ring at the unaccountable harmony of souls equal to that of the Spheres; when every one has contrary motions of its own, and yet partakes of the same, as if govern'd by a certain [Page 101] common Intelligence. 'Tis our daily wonder whence the strings of hearts as well as those of Lutes, mutually sympathize with such consent, that the trepidations of the one are se­conded with the correspondent Tre­mor of the other. We stand amazed at the surprising symphony, un­known even to the Musician, and swear these strings were heretofore Motion is consent as in bodies so in Souls. taken out of or now skrew'd to a unison in the same entrails. Wee'l grant the Physicians their Paradox, that motion is only a certain consent in bodies (a no small advantage to their art) being well assured it holds true in souls.

Neither let us any longer doubt to Hence Love is a Magician. affirm with Plato's guest, that Love is a Magician. For how do souls kindle and conceive seeds of Love with a secret touch? How do Lovers like Inchanters burn and melt the dissolving hearts of men by Images and representati­ons? How do Beautiful eyes like those of the Basilisk, inchant the greedy be­holder, insinuating and interweaving their Raies with his till they knit Love knots, and manacle him look­ing backwards with chains of Embra­ces? What else, were those soft al­lurements [Page 102] by which Endymion charm'd the Moon out of her Orb? What else are those enticing groans but Magick murmurs, Philtres of discourse, and A­morous numbers? What else but Charms of horrour, which with a blast of air strike astonishment into the hearers? What else are Love-tokens but Spells which instill a sweet Poison into those who wear them? I know not whe­ther the powerful attractions of the per­son lov'd, deserve my admiration more than the Magick figures of the Lovers obsequious postures, and inchanting blandishments, against which there isnot as in other inchantments the remedy of a Countercharm: neither indeed would we unbewitch our selves if we could, or resist the pleasing methods of our ruin▪ Truly all the force of Magick is in Love, which is said to have the mira­culous power of attracting things mu­tually together, and changing their Natures: because the parts of the world like the members of a great Animal depending on the fame Au­thor, and the Communion of the same Nature, are joyn'd together by one spirit informing the whole; and which [Page 103] is the most certain sign of union are collected into a Globe, so that one part returns upon the other in a con­tinual round. 'Tis by reason of this confederacy and secret Commerce of things; that by the mutual attracti­tion of Souls, Love like a disease con­tracted by Contagion invades chiefly the healthy, who yet by and by most willingly yield to the sweet evil. And then the voluntary Captive more straitly hugs his soft and silken fetters, then he is held by them, and does as little understand the Embraces which he enjoys as the chain it self.

Methinks I feel the restless Calen­tures of Lovers more clearly than I describe them, and seem to act my own argument The argument of the work is summ'd up by the by. There is the same method of proce­dure in Philosophy and Courtship. From kisses to Embraces, from a sha­dow and obscure aspect to intimate Visions, from affection to nature, and thence to the cause of nature. before I deliver it. I re­member heretofore when I was slightly deluded with dreams and Images, and scarce knew what I sought after, I more truely endu­red the various tides of my but newly raging Pas­on, than I decyhper'd them. How did the first glance of my Mistress not with a [Page 104] rude Image, but only the shadow of it, colour my blood, fashion my thoughts, fix an impression on my Soul, print my mind with her own Characters, lastly seize the whole man and assimu­late me to her self! And yet there appear'd in my distemper'd breast no otherwise than in a troubled fountain, only an obscure and uncertain form and shadow, such as is feign'd to inhabit the regions of Death, languid and shy, flying all approaches and slipping through an Embrace. By and by lift­ing up a little the Veil of Cupid and viewing with the greediness of a Wooer the Divine form of my just tasted felicity, By so many steps and de­grees are inquired, af­ter the manner of Lovers, the effects and force of Love, the dowry and parentage whom it is convenient to Love, in what manner, what mea­sure, for what end, al­so the degrees and kinds of loving. my ignorance (as all al­most is) restless and in­quisitive, made me curious of examining every parti­cular, as what manners, what Dowry, what seat, what descent? For this uses to be first and last in the Cares and joys of Lo­vers, as to recollect the first sportful essaies and rudiments of their Amours, so to make enquiry into the years and honours of their Parents, and to un­ravel [Page 105] their friendship back to its noble beginnings.

Although it be a sign of greatness & Thence enquiry is made into the defini­tions and natures of Love. Lastly we ascend up to the causes and Origin of Love. antiquity, and has procured Religious reverence to many things to have their Originals beyond the date of Chroni­cles, seal'd up to Oblivion as to Eterni­ty, 'twill be no Crime I hope to relate & adore the beginnings of love. Which is so happily obscured by that consecra­tor of things, Antiquity, that like Heaven it has found a fabulous Ori­gin. I hear some telling me of Prae­ludiums of Love, which Souls act in the Proscenium of the other world, before they enter upon the Stage of this. I hear that souls descended from the Stars of their Nativity still imitate their manners and conjuncti­ons. That as often as the wantonly disposed Planets treat one another with Quintile aspects, and burn with a nearer flame, then 'tis wooing time among men. That as aften as they mingle Embraces with their Conjugal Raies, then they kindle Marriage­torches here below. And lastly that The friend­ships of men are not to be ascribed to the con­junctions of the Pla­nets, but to a three­fold im­pulse of e­very mans nature. they do not only shew us Mortals the way, and prosper us in it, but al­so make matches and betroth us here [Page 106] on Earth. But to leave this fanciful argument, my Philosophy assures me, 'tis not the heat of Heaven but that native one of the breast, which con­gregates Homogeneous things, and in­flames men with an ardent Love of Society, either out of a zeal for them­selves, or out of a desire to succour infirmity, or a design of self-commu­nication.

The first of these, nature has im­parted Either to a zeal for them­selves. to every one, as a Tutelar Deity to each in particular, and as a common soul to all in general. Whence what­soever resembles any part of a mans self becomes ally'd to him on the score of that similitude. Hence Superiors are wedded to Inferiors in a mutual relation. These straitly embrace the other as their pattern and defence. The other protect these as their uten­sils and workmanship. But the easiest association is between equals, because free from the unconfiding awe which attends a Superior fortune, and the jarrings of untunable dispositions. Whoever are Confederate by the Communion of nature enjoy so much the more pleasure in their conversati­on, because they were most closely uni­ted [Page 107] even before any personal contract. Or to a de­sire of suc­couring Infirmity.

But if any suppose that compani­ons are repair'd to, as a defence of weakness, that to Love is a kind of begging, and that the Embraces of men like those of the Vine and Ivie only seek out stronger props for their support: Let him observe that for the Patronage of this infirmity, Love is feign'd to be a Boy, and that chil­dren and women, and whatsoever is of the infirmer sort are most prone to Love. Let him observe that Vertues themselves are sought for by man­kind only among the necessaries of life, and that they are either instru­ments of ambition, or reliefs of in­digence. Let him know that all the terms of Alliance are indeed words which import succour, and that by those things which we honour with the most Sacred Titles, are unde­stood only the various Commodities of life. These are the things (to con­fess the truth) which we most loving­ly call by the name of Brothers, Sisters and Parents. Neither is a friend esteem'd any thing better than an Asylum of refuge, and a proper pos­session.

[Page 108] Lastly, if we suppose men to be mo­ved Or to a de­sign of self-com­municati­on. by a fermenting appetite of self Communication, and after the exam­ple of God whose Image they bear, to make a Donative of themselves; we shall think what's more Noble in its self, and what's more worthy of that Sacred and sociable Creature, and what comes nearest to the Genius of Heaven, more freely to impart than receive an influence. For every man, as other Creatures are made for him, so he is born for more than himself only, and accordingly is ambitious of accommodating himself to others. As much as every one is ashamed to confess his penury: So much does he delight to shew himself rich by Com­municating his goods, rather than desire the Alms of another. Hence we see some Souls Covetous of doing good, call in and adopt Associates to share with them in their felicity, and take it as a great kindness to them­selves, to have an occasion given them of benefiting others. So that 'tis a greater pleasure to have a friend in your prosperity, when you are in the Capacity to give, than in your adver­sity, when you must always be on [Page 109] the receiving hand. My own Planet has not been such a niggard to me, that I should want experiments of this liberality, or should need a proof elsewhere. Nay even this very ac­knowledgement of my gratitude con­demning A favour is more joyfully bellow'd than ei­ther recei­ved or re­paid. it self, because a favour is more joyfully bestow'd than either receiv'd or repaid, does sufficiently evidence that the genius of humane nature has prescribed it self this sole way of doing of good, and out of a mag­nificence of spirit has rejected the Laws of gratitude. Since the former pro­ceeds from fullness of mind, the lat­ter is extorted by necessity. In the former there's the glory and state of a Superior, in the latter the reverence and modesty of an Inferior. He errs even to pity, dazled with the splendor of a more glorious fortune, who cannot endure a kindness; neither does he act ingratefuly nor proudly, but only mag­nificiently bent in spite of his unperfor­ming fortune, and refusing to yield in the Combat of generosity, declares be would rather have been the Au­thor of the kindness, which he had more munificently bestow'd in wish before he receiv'd it. When there­fore [Page 110] you see some born to serve, o­thers Mankind is divided into two sorts, some born to serve, o­thers to protect and che­rish. There is mutual benevo­lence be­tween them both, but they are more liberal who bestow the man, than they who bestow the goods. The Ori­gin of friendship proceeds in the same or­der as that of King­doms. to cherish and defend; you turn over both the leaves not so much of fortune as of nature and benevolence. But you should confess them Superior and more liberal who bestow the man, than those who with a cheap munificence permit an effusion of their goods. So that either way the fire of Love does more willingly descend than ascend. Nay this Pas­sion always descends (since 'tis the part of the more excellent and No­ble to Love) and in a prone chanel is propagated through the degrees of alliance as man himself is.

For there is the same method and procedure in the growth of friendship as in the constitution of Kingdoms. The heat first passing through the chanels of the blood creeps out of its own private enclosure into fami­lies; then the vein bursting as it were with an eager fermentation, it expatiates farther to Allies and Fellow-Citizens. For we must return to them (lest we should seem to be more concern'd for the Dignity of Love than for truth, or be liable to blame for instituting other measures of lov­ing [Page 111] than what are popularly receiv'd, and for steering right against the stream) who propose us to our selves as patterns yea and causes of Love. For this is the merit of benevolence earnestly to wish well to ones self. This is the very design of a Lover to recover himself lost in another, to cherish himself with the kindly heat, and by a certain vital energy to con­vert all into his own nourishment. So that 'tis no wonder that Vertue which enjoyns a neglect of our selves, suffers her self a greater disregard from the world. However let us not think it shame to be belov'd, as if this were to be mock'd and neg­lected under the pretence of Officious­ness. You must know that every one Loves ill, but he that Loves himself; and that none in Loving themselves design their own advantage, although by Loving they profit themselves by accident. All Self-Love therefore Self-love is a gene­rous thing by which we ardent­ly affect whatever we are or would be. is a generous thing, by which we kindly affect whatever we are or would be, as what is or what should be allyed to us. All of us are so touch'd with that ambition of some (who insert the Armes and honours [Page 112] of their Ancestors among their own titles) that by a corruption of He­rauldry we adopt whatever is excel­lent into the Table of our own kindred. So the emulous Cities contended about the praises of Homer in an unreconcileable War, as if for the inlargement of their Territories. Hence the splendor of vertue which is the chiefest security of Mortals, next of self-love, kindles those of taking dispositions at the first flash, and that which adores the Deity is adored it self. Whose power is such that there is none of so desperate impiety who is not in his wish and approbation, I had almost said mind too, good; Who would not he had exercised that Vertue which as yet he does not, and who does not heartily Embrace that Vertue in an­other, which, he does ill away with in himself.

Whither does this first impulse not From this double impulse of nature and rea­son, the first impulse of reason carries us to what we would be. Hence the first causes of Love are Vertue and its shadows with whatsoever carries the semblance of it. of nature only but reason carry us? cheated with a voluntary imposture [Page 113] we fall prostrate before not only Vertue, but any thing which bears the least shadow or appearance of it. Sometimes that difficulty (which guards the path of Vertue with a Sa­cred horrour, and keeps off the pro­fane rabble) pushes us forward, and intices with its indearing injuries. The honey of Lips gains a more exquisite rellish from the interposals of stings. To watch at the Window of a Mi­stress, to suffer a repulse from a mean­er Rival or to be disrespectfully used, are all but spurs to future pleasure, like as squeezing the hand, and wound­ing the Lip with the eager rudeness of a biting kiss. Sometimes rarity (which through the sloth of the age seems almost peculiar to vertue) re­commends Monsters to our fancy and all outlandish deformity.

'Tis well known also how preva­lent are those allurements of Lovers which are rank'd among the chiefest shadows of Vertues, praises, which are dearer to women than their looking-glass or box of perfumes, with which as with incense men as well as Gods are appeas'd. How easy is it by this art to please both our selves [Page 114] and others! How easie is it by these pretious blandishments to please the most Chast Matron! For all even the most modest, love to be commended, and those who refuse to be lov'd are yet ambitious of appearing lovely. Both are arguments of a mind ver­tuously disposed, though to praise be a more certain one than to be prais'd. For to be prais'd is frequently the lot, always the ambition of the most undeserving, as deformed persons covet paint. But none can praise and himself not be laudable. He does the same or would do who approves, and is illustrated from the excellen­cies of another: As he that erects a Statue to the memory of an Heroe, erects also at the same time to him­self a Monument of Vertue. For this seems an high flight of merit not to exercise vertues, but what's more, to reverence and adore them. These are those darts of Cupid which are pointed with his feathers, which while they tickle, wound the deep­er, and like Arrows deliver'd strong­ly and at a distance, reach those who are most remov'd from us. But to make flattering preambles and [Page 115] bribe Benevolence (the usual art of Rhetoricians and Lovers) seems all one to me as to dawb the lips with paint preparatively to an Embrace, which always instils a sweet Poyson, and insensibly corrodes the kisses.

So much are we men the Creatures of glory and Vertue, that I fear Among vertues these more pro­fitable ones cause Love. 'twould not be much for our ho­nour to confess, that among Vertues we Embrace them most which are profitable. Whether they be those which exercise and invite humanity, as modesty and equity; or those which preside over and protect it as forti­tude and munificence. Which, when we our selves are no way advan­taged by them, we gratulate in the behalf of others. But as Emulation, so munificence indears our affections to other vertues. Although its ex­cellence be so much the greater by how much the receiver is less deser­ving. Because then the kindness is wholely to be ascribed not to the judgment, but favour of the Bene­factor, and because for our sakes he would run the hazard of being re­proachfully beneficial. This liberali­by [Page 116] is no sooner above the Horizon, but that other which is inbred in the heart of mankind shines parallel to it. And although perhaps at first by an erroneous estimation it valued the giver for the sake of his gifts, yet afterwards it values the gifts for the Authour, whose parental indulgence extended it self beyond the partition-wall of his own family, and adopted a stranger with the same domestick affection as an Allie into his Hospitable bosom. Here over­loaded gratitude faints, and finding it self uncapable of returning any thing besides the man, repays its Pa­tron as a Deity with the bare Votary. And truly in my opinion he betraies no such generous ardour of mind who returns benefits as Debts, and pays gifts, that he may quit scores, and that accounts may be kept even on both sides, as if they were dealing on­ly in a more liberal way of usury. 'Tis not affection but pride, which makes a man so impatient of lying under an obligation. This is not to receive but retort kindnesses: This is with more disdain than gratitude [Page 117] to boast riches in a contention of munificence. But since true benefits aim at nothing but a kind reception, he only knows how to be a liberal receiver who candidly interprets, and retaliates nothing, but a grateful mind. Neither does he think this any valuable return of his own libe­rality, but only the pledge of ano­thers. But lest any one should think I insinuate this as an Apology for my incapacity or ingratitude, let him know that I have perswaded my self that friends give with that Candor as if they paid only that they might owe, and return gifts with such free­dom as those that give of their own accord. These are benefits, these are those Arrows of Cupid which with a Benefits are the ar­rows of Cupid arm'd with gold. Golden point give a Splendid but faithful wound. More powerful truly is the Courtship of Jupiter under gold than under feathers, or the Rays of his Divinity. For gifts are the universal Character, whereas 'tis the Talent only of some few to under­stand the Idiom of Majesty, and the soothing flourish of a Rhetorical Pen.

[Page 118] Shall I now say that from this gen­tle From li­berality arises com­miserati­on, which softens he breast and then signs it with an Image. humanity of mind proceeds a good natur'd Commiseration, which softens the breast like Wax, and then seals it with any Image? Or that from this ampleness of mind flows that proud benignity, which while it seeks occasion to exercise munificence, Loves the miserable even to Passion, and scorns the happy? Or shall I think that from hence arises a generous Stateliness which is more ambitious of bow'd knees and heads than Embraces, and Loves only on this Magnificent condition, that it be not Lov'd again? Or rather shall I term this a soft modesty, like to theirs who can endure to eye an­other till he look back upon them?

And now we confess with thee Beauty is rank'd a­mong the Vertues, which holds forth an animated system of Ethicks and ex­presses in the body [...]Il the Vertues, prudence, fortitude, justice and tempe­rance. Plato, the divinest of all Prophets, a wonderful scene of Love dis­play'd throughout the whole body, where Vertue exposes herself to view, where the Candor of the mind tempers the blood with a milky whiteness, and modesty dies the Cheek with a sweet Vermilion; [Page 119] where the liberal forehead hospitably entertains the beholders; and the glances of the eye are gather'd up like scatter'd gems; where you may perceive the discipline of a compo­sed countenance, gravely checking and allaying those sparks which it kindled in you by its Beauty. Where you may observe the dictates of a quick appre­hending aspect, and imbibe tacit lessons of prudence; where you may see regu­larly disposed by a certain ballance of justice the even measures as of manners so of the limbs, and peruse a living system of Ethicks with your Hence 'tis call'd a Corporeal Vertue. eyes; where, when you shall behold the lucid members joynted to one an­other like gems both for Ornament and service, wondring a while at the compacted strength of solid Beauty, you will cry out, Hither Vulcan with thy nets! behold, we have ta­ken again Mars accompanying Venus! This is a Beauty worth the Empire of more than one world. Thanks be to Jupiter and his Eagle, that the earth is not envy'd the possession of so great Beauty. Hence the Divine Plato may with rapture and ecstasie [Page 120] deduce Theorems of Philosophy, and contemplate a fairer Idea with his eyes than ever he did with his mind. Socrates may send his delicate youth to trim themselves at the superlative lustre of this face as at a looking­glass. And here Eudoxus fall'n from his admiration of the Sun, may affirm mankind was made on purpose to view this light, and to feast on bright pleasures, though to the loss of their eyes. There are more power­ful Charms in the aspect of this form, than in Orpheus his lyre to tame wild beasts and Philosophers. This Splendor more delightsome than day-light, is fitter than the Sun to try and educate the off-spring not of Eagles only but of mankind too. I would almost swear that our souls descended from the Skie as falling Stars, they are so inamour'd with all Brightness. These are the Arrows of Cupid pointed with the light of eyes, and sparkling out flames, which shine, burn and wound.

Thus whatsoever is excellent, All Love is compre­hended in likeness. whatsoever we would be like to, at­tracts us to it self with the same ardour, [Page 121] as we do those things which we seem Where fore we all Love ei­ther whom we would be like to, or whom we are. From the for­mer arise those spurs of a tasted Love; from the latter, first simili­tude it self; already to resemble. We mutually crave and give Pardon to this mad­ness of ours which makes us do the same when men as when children, viz. to reach out to kiss our Pictures in Looking-glasses. 'Tis the Fate of all mankind as well as of Narcis­sus, to be Passionately in Love with their own representations. And 'tis but just that we more zealously af­fect our other self than our Parents or Children, who are but pieces of our selves, or than an Artificer does his own work which is only the pro­duct and Image of his art. 'Tis an excusable greediness which prompts us to feed upon our like, since 'tis the nature of our souls as well as bo­dies to require consimilar aliment. Wherefore I don't wonder at the Then Cus­tom; bewitching power of Custom, which recommends to our affections not on­ly faces but places themselves and in­animate trifles, as if they were our Companions. Whence the same de­lay which insensibly preys upon Beau­ty, adds also grace to deformity.

For the eye and mind tinctured [Page 122] with a familiar species, see no long­er but through painted glass, which takes off from the horror of the ob­ject. So also familiarity without Then fa­miliarity. which we are remote even when pre­sent, adds this force to custom, that it may form Twin manners, by a reciprocal generation beget a Consan­guinity of dispositions and adapt mind to mind, till anothers conver­sation is more sweet and free to us than our own. What? 'Tis torment not society to be under a constant fear of displeasing, to compose all things to the worst of Looking glasses that of a face (since we can't to the others mind) to order our Commerce with re­verential concern, to weigh our words like gold before we deliver them, to present our selves at a set meeting with premeditate gesture, and then there to behave our selves as in a Theatre.

But Why do I mention those con­similar Also un­der the name of similitude, Love. species which either nature, art or Custom slightly imprints on our minds? When 'tis Love which gives all these a lively stamp, by whose power alone (the soul having long since took her leave) they are actua­ted [Page 123] and enliven'd. Happy is it for Lovers, that persons may Love even against their wills. Since your Lover is not only like, but the same with your self, he has stoln away you from your self unawares; and with­out your leave. There is no need that he demand returns of kindness and Debts of Love. If this be nothing available with you that he is your Image, your slave, your proper goods; that for your sake he parted with his soul and liberty; If you nothing dread the Crime of cruelty and Mur­der, yet by the necessity of nature Love kindles Love, flame kindles flame. Yet nature would not grant Love the power to counterfeit, or if counterfeit to burn any otherwise than painted fire. For though the face, aspect and gesture feign never so in­dustriously, yet the simulation will be­tray it self as all painted things do, either by a too emulous or a too re­miss endeavour of imitation. If you don't yet acknowledge that Love is the price of a man; yet at least that you may admit it to be so under the sordid Name of benefit, know, [Page 124] that it comprises in it self all the bene­fits which it bestows, and which it cannot bestow, and in wish more than all. Without which I shall ascribe the benefits themselves to fortune and fate, not to the man, and shall think them rather found than receiv'd. By which alone the poor man acts libe­rally, as often as he gives nothing, but wishes munificently. Than which nothing greater is either expected from or render'd to Mortals by the Gods. Here's a Philtre of more in­fluence than any herb. If you will be lov'd, Love.

But as it betrays meanness of soul to require and render reasons why we Love, so that Love is more inge­nuous which like some flowers springs up without any seed, and has this of Eternity, to exist without a cause, and like Heaven to be mov'd by an invisible Intelligence. We find now that that similitude whether manifest Similitude whether manifest or occult which is call'd sympathy, is all Love or occult which goes under the name of Sympathy, is all nothing else but Love. Whence without any nearness or familiarity, the near and familiar soul closes fast, and squares exactly [Page 125] to another. Just as Mathematicians say one plain body adheres to ano­ther inseparably, united only by the Cement of conformity. Nature seems to bring forth Twin-minds, and to assign mates to souls as shadows and Genius's to bodies, or as Nymphs Co-eval to their Trees. Hence men in spight of their Ascendent undergo the same Stars and Fates, and in all respects are Twins. O the unpa­rallel'd generosity of these well match'd Lovers, a more Noble spectacle than a couple of Gladiators! Where the Duel of liberality is all fought in Offices of mutual kindness. In this one thing there is discord in their affections, that both being over solicitous for each other are disquieted with hatred and fears. Both as if tinctur'd with each o­thers Choler see and judge the same. Both as if touch'd with the same Load-stone, tend to the same point in all their designs and en­deavours. The one represents the others face more faithfully than a Looking-glass. The one imitates the others manners more punctually than [Page 126] a Parasite. So that even he himself is not so much like himself.

While I was Scribling at this rate, Cupid snatch'd my pen out of my hand, and flew away with it.