I thus Answer.

I Confesse, now could I lash forth into the Coyned streames of an Elegant Hyperboly. [...]t were but sufficient to flatter your ambiti­ons; But should I strive with the, winning perswasions, of smising Oratory, to ravish your suncses with the rare beauties of this high born Nymph, were but in vain, because I know you are not of the Platonicks who diets their Appetites, with the notion of mingling Soules, when their bodies are at no other brookage, but a doating on contem­plation. [Page 69]Away Adulterate speeches, like har­latory faces, painted outsides, to insinuate affections; Hence sweet Luliab [...]es, Ve [...]us Charmes to impale madness with fair Alare­ments, the reality of such a sul [...]nce is cur­rant coine, when slattery's Eulogies are un­dervalued. Lov's beauties are able to melt the Adamantine heart like the Pumix-stone to sweat water, though she proves imperious in the end, and by a wanton tyranny usurps, a Dominion greater then the World, till that rigor congeale them again to flint: Yet what a claim did the grand Sophoy attribute to this creature, while Parnassus was no Hill for their walkes, and Helicon no Fount for them to swim: Methinks I see Socrates sad, in the glimering twilight of his twinkling Candle, in the invention of this love; while it shewes him nothing but his own obscuri­ty: Methinks I see the swaggering Platonist bedewing his watery cheeks at Laethe's R [...] ­volets, by the oblivion of this rare Idaea. We see the Stagorite impearling his face with the Embroadery of an injewelled tear, becaus his inventions was so eb'd as not to know the [Page 70]tide-motions of this Euripus; We see the Naturalists heads vail'd with sorrow, because not able to withdraw the shadowy curtain from this occult quality: We see the mora­lists puls. beating slowly, in the attainment of those animate Ethicks. And we see the Eagle-eyed wits of this age, the more they soared at, the sooner loose sight of those rayes: I hear the Poëts say, since the golden fu­nerall of their happy times, love like Astraea flew into heaven; This would have quelled the aspiring attempts of those Amorists, had not the Interpreters made it drosse in false Annotations; Aesop's Cock found a Pearl, but he wished it a Barley corn, yet it's probable love is on earth, for when I behold a Picture, how do some symptomes animate my duller spirits: And when I look upon a Picture, how do I commend the superficiall Paint Rheto­ricated in curiou [...] flourishes, and daighnes, an Eulogium on the ruder metaphors of the Ar­tificer's shallow Judgment, which unpolite li­neaments are in some sence beauty spots, to set a greater glosse upon the form, like those Solary motes which makes his Irradiant [Page 71]lustres diffuse a more glorious splend or, and therefore now I cannot hate a Lady for the nice disapprobation of deformity; the sha­dowy lineaments of dark colours, well lymns a Picture in it's noble paint; natures land­skip is fainedly drawn when a sable curtain vailes the orient riches, and were Apelles pen­cill set to the Pourtraiture, of a fair Nymph he would forme her nigh the rough outfide of a mishapen Satyre, thus roses grow sweeter befides stinking weeds, thus by the sullen Antiperistasis of a shade, Phoebus is splendant in the starr-rayed Meridian; thus Grammatick figures are not false Orthograpl [...]y. Hellen may have a staine, the purest Venus a mole, and the finest lawn an ignoble fret: hence a crooked rod may be figured into a Mathe­matick staffe, hence the distorted, Caverns of an old face are the grave charracters of fame's Rubrick, most sweetly Inbalming wrinkled cheeks, with bloomy roses, the de­crepid form reversed, is but the studied Ana­gram of Prëtick glory, and I think the pret­ty Orater did no way flatter the mean beauty of his homely Lady, when he told her [Page 72]in the complementive Rhetorick of a high ex­pression, Res sacra est deformitas: for indeed 'tis more divine then the winning Oratory of charming Pulchritude, which Philter, was magick enough to conquer a Romanceing Spirit, whose brandishing blade scorn [...]d to turn edge to a half-shadowed beauty, so then it may be good reason, why the puling Plato­nicks would only live in contemplation be­cause Venus her picture was half drawn. A reverend age is the very shape enstamp­ed upon the perfect feature of Angels, whose superlative excellencies, rich in their natur­all Indowments, without the adulterate Chy­mistry of invention, to guild them with the tincture of an noble Paint, deserves to be adored as well as lov'd; For whatsoever seemes so specified in the glorious modifica­tion of forme, as requires our chiefest imbra­ces, it results from this principle, that first of all it must be very lovely, now if any thing be deformed then it boasts the sage Records of an ancient antiquity, the rigid Stoick, whose Satyr robes lookes more Prodigious then the old Synicke hudled [Page 73]in his rotten Tub, if he would retort his eye by a wanton Reflection would not be afraid at the unaffectionate light of his stony face: So that I congratulate the indulgent generosi­ty of Madam nature who made my soul a Rasa tabula, where I might engrave the di­vine impression of a heavenly Lady, though I did never salute her, but in the murmuring tones of affectionate silence, I may feast the Insatiate appetite of my eyes, with the ban­queting dainties of her presence, but I would not in the polite garbe of gaudy elo­qence, court a metaphorick oration from her ruby lips, Since the Poët has told me.

But for me 'tis more easie to love, then to describe the existance of love, for it inha­bitates the inward recesses of chaste hearts & therefore scornes the outward wantonings [Page 74]of petulant tongues, the Painter represented nature appeating to Aristotle masqued in a sad vaile, and he as other Phylosophers left her clouded in an obscure forme and mufled up in the slip-cloaths of Materia, and I neither can draw the curtain from love's face, the better to admire it's beauties; 'tis hid from the prying notions of my Quill; though it is Sainted in the white robes of Radiant light, perhaps we may semble her by some other objects, but such colours are dim, and such similitudes but weak demostrations; for what is it of Hyperboly to say in yonder Ruby-rose sits enthron'd her golden cheeks, in this blush­ing tulip, discoloured with various Aparel­lings her violet veines, run in a modest cur­rent: In this Maiden-lilly, her virgins-skin glanceth a smiling blossom, and in this crimson Incarnadin waves the rich Ambrosia of her Cortall lips. No, no, In representation of this, the Heathen who studied so long as the blinking candle would glimmer to his nocturnall Lucubrations said that Lamp did shew him only his own darknesse, like the old Cynick with his Lanthorne­splendor, [Page 75]at Noon-day seeking a good-man in Athens: Neither did the exemplary docu­ments, of Lascivious Poëts give us a distinct evidence of this ray; It is better heard in the harsh melody of mournfull sighs then seen in the young face of smooth effeminacy, and it is seen as well in the smooth face of young Effeminency, as heard in the harsh melody of mournfull sighs; Yet mount the Top-Element of love, and you'l see Cana­an by a Pisgath-fight; Cry aloud into the rebounding Caverns of it's holy Nunnery, if you will hear it speak, for an Eccho will not follow the weak voice. The old Astrologer was laughed at, who by looking intensively upon the Heaven's Physiognomy fell into a pit of waters.

Whereas in the christal glass of that rivolet he might have seen the skies brightest beams [Page 76]uncurtained by an unconceived lustre, thus some in the description of Love have disco­vered their own folly, those who have stri­ven in the Anatomy have onely touched the superficies: A short Mathematick staffe may reach the low Planets, but the Sun shine of Love is blazoned in a higher Pole, and there­fore the ravished Archimedes may shoot forth his [...] when he takes the elevation. Who ever did Paint the fragrancies of Aprill's Rose; 'tis a T [...]x beyond the Pen, as Pen­cil's Performanc [...]. I d [...]re give him leave who sees Love to fall in imoraces, & salute it with a [...] welcome thou Lady Light; as the old Epicures desired to sip up their Quintis­ence in a [...] if they could, which impossibili­ty made the raging Stoicks angry with For­tuna, in cheating them w ^th the Lotte yof blind [...]ncertainties, & the unpassionate Stoick were dashed on Rocks of ansery, whien made their Wise Man who held an Apathy in his tenets, it a storm on Sea look pale, yet howsoever I cannot speak, alorions things are spoken of [...]hee O Love! It was of thee that the fam'd Philosopher rais'd his Panygerick to a Map [Page 77]of the World, writ Hollinsheads, and spoke Folios. It was of thee, that the great Histo­rian swelled his brain, till it run forth a se­cond Helicon. And it was of thee, that the Morallist raised, this Hyperbolicall Eulogi­um, who can comment upon so Seraphick a a Text without an Angell's sublime pinneon. What Jove in his Regall magnanimity would not be Captived with so [...]re a beauty? what Adonis would fear to melt into so delicate a flame? What Apollo would not entertain the kind welcome of such a golden dart? Some have presumed to Paint the Little Wanton blind; and I dare avouch that Cupid too without tongue, Hence the sporting delica­cy of words, are the sad tone of a sigh, brea­thing forth such fluttering expressions as the Paphian Doves do eccho in the pleasant groves of Myrtle-boughs. Hence their fin­gers talk Love-ditties, and dialogues, are weaved in their Virgin-Garlands. Hence the accustomed Character of a glance, the plea­sant eloquence of a chast smile, are Loves vocal messengers carrying the sweet Ambassy of a kisse. Sometimes their laughter like so [Page 78]so many Rhetoricating figures are composed in a legible Idiome; and sometimes the con­tracted cloud of a supercillious brow typified the indignation of a frowning Lover. It seems to some a glory, above weak humanity, that like Angells they should discourse by sight, without help of an Intellect, as if soules had their course, and recourse into divers bodies and in silent eloquence most learnedly to Complement, but alllove has it's vizards, and Venus her sectaries, can go unseen circumfu­sed with Aeneas his cloud, through Publick Assemblies. I therefore learn this one thing, Cu­pid wounds the heart with his false treachery, by the compulsion of an invisible dart, so he still possesseth the native Countries of his Primogenious habitations, as traduced from the Cimmerian vault of the Pimitive Chaos. Love thus flies the grand Rayes of a hot faced Phoebus, and like the Owl flutters in the shady glimmerings of dark Twilight. For my part, I know not what Magick did not onely in­clude Impetuous Pasiphoe in the circled Mean­ders of a crooked Labyrinth, but also cloy­stred this secret Love in an obscure Hermi­tage; [Page 79]so heard is it without Ariadnes clew to find forth the inextricate windings, 'tis so hard a Riddle to interpret, that every one who loves, dotes on a Aenigme, and becomes a problem to him self; just like those, who in a wastage of dreams are carryed to Elizium and when they wake be still in Bridewell, Now it tosseth him in the furious tyranny of the watry Sultan, and now it dandles him on the Calm lap of an Halcion-day, so that by the fluxes, and refluxes, of divers Protestations never taking firm Anchorage in the distur­bed Port of his breast; he will confesse from wind, and weather-beaten waves the god­dess Cyprida derives her generation, and not from the sweet Amber Greece of perfumes, as some in a flatter to that wanton Deity blazed forth an attribute▪ Thus, those whose delicate heads are surfac't with the Rich Di­adem of Roses, are Crown'd with the mock-Scepter of Royalty of thorns, As Churches are painted with antick Creatures to shew my­steriall glory, and the Beast with ten hornes, are the ten Tribes of Israel. The Cob-web face, of a smooth Lady, who intangles Lovers [Page 80]in such tiffany threads, is Domitian's Com­peer who made it his Royall labour to catch flyes. So cruell is the obsequious Empory of of Love, that to be it's Subject is to live and dye; Just as Maiden Phoenix builds her self a vitall pyre in which Enfranchised flames, she refines her aged gravities. So malignant is it's favours, that it strikes a man into the dull malady of disasters, whereby it may have a high prerogative of honour, in apply­ing preservatives, so dubious a Benefactor, that with Reciprocall heats, and colds, and various paraoxysmes, it inflames and Refri­gerates breasts consecrated to such hallowed fires. It casts a Lover into those flames that it may thence snatch him, or by some provi­dence let him burn, as flyes who circumlude the raging Tapers, sometimes suffer martyr­dome, and sometimes scorch their wings,

The pale faced Miser he seeks himself in himself, like our Roaring gallants so igno­rant of observations, in sailing the compasse of this Worlds Circuit, as they would seek Rome in Rome. It is hard for him to love, It is hard for him not to love: but it is hardest [Page 79]for him to injoy the delicate imbraces of love, What infelicity implies his contradiction to wish he might not injoy his wishes, the Ma­jestick feature of a Lady's brow, adorn'd with the Lawrell Chaplet of verdant chastity doth allure and affright the excellent claritude of a serene face, like Sol's Eoan Candors, doth refresh, and make blind his gazing eyes; The lightning of a beauty would make him fall in veneration of such a divinity, and yet like the gigantick Cyclops, he feares to be struck with a Thunderbolt. It intermin­gles joyes with the antipathy of sorrow, that the compounds of pleasure might be more delighting; and it intermixeth griefe in sympathy with mirth, that it might the more torment: So that he but dreames, who thinks his pallate enough banquetted at the sweet meates of such felicity; For when his stupefied sences are discharmed, from that magicall Lethargy, he will finde a hungry Appetite: Therefore you must not expect a Carpet-way to this Canaan, without the Red Sea of afflictions: You must not expect a Lady whose waxen armes [Page 80]are melted into a sweet compliance of de­licate Imbraceings, without the hard opposi­tion of a stony heart; A Lady whose breath al­wayes exhales the fragrant odours of Incens­ed Cassia, without the least obnoxoius smell of unredolency, upon whose cheeks, nothing but smiling Roses, breathing a Panchaian aire, and sweetest Lillies survive in a glorious gorgery, or from whose lips nothing but harmonious Diapazons distills the coranting notes of unpa­ralled raptures for some times Love's morose, and flames like shaggy-disheveled hair of bearded Comets, which again appear beau­tious as the smooth-fac't stars.

Yet I have often heard, and I pray you tell, why do you complain 'tis blind and mad, all those ill favoured warts add an illustrion to this Hellens Beauty; Wee see the Moon canopyed in a black masque: And the stel­late Spheres have their glimmering Can­dors bright oriency, of which, lustres are never displayed in the glory of a full Orbe: The lawny vizard of modesty vailes loves face, as the thin Robe of a condensed cloud, through which, Phoebus [Page 81]darts his morning Radiums, Before Aurora's glisterings are unsheathed from the dark scabbard of night. how do we like the Antipodes dispaire in dull melancholly, till she is discurtained from those dead vailes, to the full Zenith of a Noon-day glory: Thus when the pretty smiles of love's re­freshed flowrings are unclouded from the en­vious Aparellings of misterial umbrages, how do we triumph in exultation: For some things are but cloathed with the gay Robes of orient colours, but she is flourished with Sun-beames, bespangled with the twinkling starrs of rich Embroidery, Anaxagoras there, should not make me dis-believe my eyes. What if only to Phylozophise were to contemplate the small Ideas of nature, then this high endeavour of love, is the great work of Phylosophy, though he who loves but what he knows, changeth his Philosophy into Logicks scientifical demonstration, and I truely think one may be satisfied, as soon with a bare Skeleton of syllogismes bones As be filled with the notion of glo­rious beauty, nothing, Nothing. You [Page 82]believe love is mad hear but the fallacies, Lovers use in disputations, and you will say it is without mood and figure: See these distriumphing Virgins huge trophies on the victor's bow, and you will say they are first circum-binded in cords of anger, then impaled in imbracements of pleasure; the wanton heat of a lustfull breast teacheth them to chant the sweet notes of a melodious Lyrick, before it lets them Rant in the Lascivious harmony of soft Epigrams, For Love is made with reason, and all those dote­ings of a Captived mind, are the secret miste­ries of divine rage: To Love, and to be mad are relatives in reciprocall tearmes; Thus Jove descended from his high Olympus, to injoy the Heavenly features of an earthly La­dy, and the action might be commendable; for conjugal Rights of Lovers, as our marry­ing solemnites admits no shame, and the foolish Poët was drunk with too much Nectar, when he said,

But thus much for the Proin, a long Pro­logue, I fear will have a short scene, a shorter Epilogue, and therefore it is time to make a leg, and Exit, least the Citty Run forth at those Myndian gates, then first, to describe this Deity, listen and you will hear, Dionisius the Syracusian Monster by the Logick of his genuity defining Love to be a circle, à bono, per bonum, in bonum redeun­tem; and I wishly concurr with that Em­blem, I confesse as well as kisses, Rings, complements, the pledges of love, we have our Hyroglyphicks too: that very circle doth expresse Cupid drawing his crooked Bow at my breast, already struck with the golden dart: That very circle doth represent the perpetuall heat of Lovers, commingled with blood (as 'tis the Probatum est of Physitians) Circumrotated by a gyre, just like the Aethe­rian, fire moving in the Similitude of an Orb, [Page 84]So that whosoever loves, he is carried by a sphaericall motion which like the Egyptian Serpentine year.

And as it's motion, so it's self is without end, for who knowes not the last fate of a man to be his dyeing testament, while his soule is exhaled into his dearest friend's bosom, as a farewell Legacie, the Romans I am sure were no lesse confident then super­stitious in this custom, when as they would catch the last breath of their dying lovers, by laying mouth to mouth: So that I think Pythagoras did rightly Phyloso­phize, when he fell in Love with a Me­tempsuchosis, and sacrificed to the birth-day of that Lady Transmigration his great brain, had in conception, whose desultory Soul divesting it's Painted slip-cloathes the body flew into some noble entertainment [Page 85]which the old Pagans in their foolish tenets baptized an Elizium. before we take our vltimum vale, from this sorrowfull Theater there is none happy, whome love and Phy­losophy doth not inspire, or ravish the Soul into an amazement of extasies, and therefore without it, I conclude with the poët,

The one hales the admiring man into the astonishment of Contemplations, The o­ther sets the lovely soul into the great won­der of imbraces; the the one carries you into the plesant Tempe of Heaven-sprung flowers whose dew watering those Rosy leaves is Nectar spilled from the Gallaxey at Gany­med's fall, where you may feed the nice de­sires of a stoln glance, or satisfie the curi­ous smell with balmy incense of perfumed sweets. And p [...]ay you tell me, How can you deny the transcourse of soules, when bodies [Page 86]are at a distance: Have you not seen the Amorist's eye, allwayes looking that way, his Lady sits enshrined, like a stately Diety; If they joyn hands, then the soul dines it's Appetite in figurative speeches by twisting of fingers, if they sit together then the heart leapes up in exultation, and Running forth with a whole Troop of thoughts (as rustick fellows salutations, are with a good blow) knocks at the weak fort, till it surrender. Or what other An­notation is the Ruby-blush, colouring one's Sanguine face, with a purple dye but the passionate soule, which in its crimson-robes presently leaps into the Velvit cheeks as the Plush-index of a wounded heart: See but how desirously the soul lurks, into the Labyrinth of an ear, catching the silent Complement, in an Eloquent language, and then answereing it again, in a silent eccho, see but how the soule ingulphes her self in the large theater of a glance, and you will say, it dies in continuall speculation, for some say Love is blinde, but Democritus put forth his eyes, the better to live in con­templations. [Page 87]Thus man himself shrinks his whole composure, into the little vail of an eye, and sometimes confines it in the little Cloy ster of an ear, as we see some Animals content with the small function of one sence.

Listen, Methinks I hear Aristophanes say, it is the whole Sacrament of Love to reduce men to that Principle, from which they were extraduced. Thus by naturall progresse, the Occidentall Sun returnes to his spicy East, when as the new Morning is but a Revoluti­on of the old day; thus Rivers by their fi­liall gratitude ingulphe the vast Treasures of their pleasant streams, at Neptunes accep­tance, to whom they are derivative. But thou O Thales in water! and thou O Empedocles in fire leaping, made too much hast not only Phylosophy, but the Philosopher himself was resolved into the principles, and the vital particles of souls ingurgitated in their own Elements. Thus the errours of Philosophy­zing spirits, excuse the errours of raging Lovers; and while the Mentes famelicae were nourished of what they consist. One would [Page 88]swear Bacchus his soul is made of a liquefied matter. One would swear the Red soule of Tyrant Caligula is made of blood, who wisht the world but one neck, in which he might glut the hungry Appetite of his ravenous blade. One would swear the muck-worm soul of a Country-fellow, is made of dirt, and his body to be the strong clay-walls, and one would swear the barbarous souls of Sto­icks rising from a hard quarelet of stones, to be carved into the lovely statues of men, Or what if we should feign with the Platonicks, who durst not touch the chastity of a Woman, that by the meer notion of mingling souls (ut ex communi seminario.) Men do result in a strict Epithalamy of Nuptiall; 'tis a pleasant invention, indeed that without putting their bodies to any brookage, they have generati­on by kissing of hands, and twisting of eye beams, yet this perswades us, that souls at the first approach, run into imbraces, like friends who not forgetting their once-acquaintance can entertain souls at a dreaming separation, and meet in salutations before their bodies be in sight, so now the Platonick takes his [Page 89] Metempsuchosis into memory, for it is his Love and Philosophy.

Yet to whom, to love, and to Phyloso­phize is all one, it is to erect the lapsed estates of Angellick creatures with a perpetuall spe­culation of Heaven (and as the birds of the Sun are fed only with it's Rayes) it feasts them with a continued desire of eter­nity. This is that, I know not what can­dor, makes mortalls in the aemulation of gods, scan the high sphaere of divinty. This is the eye whose splendors discover more new-found Treasures, then e're Sol was able to view without tiring his swift-flown Steeds; this makes us as circumscribed in no Paren­thesis of age, like a Posthumus being as spirits who injoy the vast Kingdoms of th'ubique­ous air without limitation. Love thus doth all things, knoweth all things, yet in it's descrip­tion I must write Encomiums on the Deo Ig­noto as the Pagans scuplted it on their altars.

Some say Cupid is no reall being, but a Chymaera. Yet Plato degenerates from such Principles, allows him something, though 'tis onely the desire of Pulchritude in a fair Lody, and I make account too, the attempt of an ill-favoured feature, is not Love, but lust. How doth that Ignis fatuus bemire the Lilly soul, in the dirty bogs of Quag-mire folly? How doth that melancholly distem­per, like Don Quixots, fight with Wind-mills of fancy, and summons a man up to death, as Brutus his Malus-Genius did him to Plutos Praetorium. If thus rash Phaeton-lust, as an in­telligence move in the brain's golden Chari­et, It will soon destroy the Micre-cosmman. Each Amorist who adores this Lust as a white Swan, will find the silly Goose Painted, as Aesops Crow in the rich Attirement, Peacock feathers, Like the Devil sanctified in the bright Radience of condensed air. Such a darling Dalilah will blind the eyes of Sampson Love, and then expose it to scorn of the Worlds Philistims. Such a wicked Athenian mounts the high pole of honour, by firing the costly [Page 91]state of Love's Diana temple but that verifi­ed Axiome of Logicians proves loves glories.

The Poet durst not uncloath his body, least the wind, as the Eagle did Ganymed, should Rap him into the air, but hee I am sure who unloades himself of lust's mantle, will then with Eliah fly into Heaven. Methinks Plato's philosopher digested dark divinity, (without the commotion of a recoyling stomack) for the glorious Candle of the transparent soul (saith he) was thrust into the blind-Lanthorn body, as a punishment for her Virgin lust: O had love bin in those dayes, how had these glimmery shadings been dissipated to clear beams: how had that Maiden in her gay blushes bin restored to primitive glory; for love is not ashamed [Page 92]of her beauties as the proud Corinthian Lais was who broke the looking-glasse at sight of her aged front, carved forth with pale wrink­cles. Lust indeed may adorn it selfe in royall loves attirement, yet no jot the lesse lust for that, thus a Parrat in imitation of men, may dispute a Syllogisme. Persius in excuse to his lisping Satyrs Authoratizeth this.

But they conclude like the Roman bird, whom the Cobler's Grammer had elegantly taught when by an Extempore speech, shee cryed forth.

Wee delight onely in the fruition of a fair beauty, and scorne the Lotteries of Penelope's wooers, who flew in a soar­age of impossiblity; A picture lymned in the brave excellence of gaudy Symetries, may perswade the eyes of a gazing Specta­tour, but not a Lover. And he who looks on a Lady onely to observe the fair tabla­ture of her face, may as well deate on a Picture. Love is the onely Orator whose smiling Rhetorick allures me to the feli­cious salute of imbraces. Here I bring the old Philosopher Socrates to witnesse who would have the very carv'd Effigies painted in the insinuating colours of Love's bra­vest tinctures, how often with his sweet Appellatives in the Schools, as if in Venus Gymnasiums, hath he styled his Com­pany Formosos auditores, such waxen minds, on whose melting Amorosities, the Signet of his eloquence might make impression: So then the flattering Complement of a merry countenance may conquer the for­tyfied Ilium of a Regall Lady. Hellena may be surprized by a pleasant Robbery, [Page 94]without the aemulation of so many Rivalls; though once the high ambition of in­joying that unheard of form racked Troy in a decimall Torment of fire. A mild Heroe may lead Venus a Trophey to his wanton bed, as a stern M [...]rs injoy her in Vulcan's lodgings. The dirty Soul of a Clod-pate swaine who knows nothing besides the beautifying of a goodly farm, can dive so farr into Royall Loves Cabi­net as to snatch the best Pearl he there finds inclosed; else our wanton Deity had ne­ver wisht for the injoyments of an Iron-side Vulcan, but he was mettle to the back, and therefore would not stand bent to his work.

Pray tell me, if you, do not love, how can you think to be happy; for love like the Stoicks hath a Domestick Pleropheria an unavoidable happinesse, although the fe­licious Heathens could never reach Summum bonum beyond an imaginary conception. Thus by a Piece of Politick Stoicisme can al­lay the raging infortunes of disquieted passi­ons (as the sturdy Rocks quells Neptunes [Page 95]Proud waves) and makes them retire wor­sted. Some have canonized men whose radi­ant works sparkles in the Orient lustre of day beams, Aristotle was set up as a Pope in Phylosophy, while his sectaries thought other writings but Err a-Patris neither gospel, nor law, but at Lov's rich strains rarely interlined with golden notions, all nations may fraught their Vessels, where the Heaven is made Heaven by it's presence. The old Philoso­pher said, other Creatures were writ in Prose, but Mans soul was a perfect Poem, thus indeed wee read, Tully's fidler said his body never danced but when his soul plaid the Lessons, and if the soul be in Poësy, when love sings consort, then's the best me­lody, give me Poetry, musick in words, and give me musick, Poë [...]ry in sound, and what Queen of Shaeba would not hear the wisdom of such a Solomon. The Pagans Jupiter was maximus, because he was optimus, and what­soever like love would be great, must be first good, And methinks those all-Religious Ro­mans who tye their tutelary Angels in the large Pantheon with chains of gold, did but shadow [Page 96]forth this love, though in the form of a gold­en dart, it is entertained in the consecrated Vestry of a Man's heart; should we but see this glorious Planet, I can then tell how it would move in the Zodiack of our im­braces, till by a Chymicall touch of vir­tue, the strict imp [...]ings were turned to golden threads. Great Aristotle thought his strong drawn Arrow hit the mark, when hee gave the definition of love, to be one soul in two bodies, methinks I might act the Philo­sopher, and say, it is two souls in one body, but those weak Raptures come short of an Hyperboly. This I would say, Plato in it's features might see his ravishing virtue exist Incarnate This I would say, All the accu­rate accomplishments in the inferiour World (as Cebes his famous piece of morality hung in the curious Temple of Saturn to confesse the greater wisdome of that God) are but shadows of this Deity. For a little Attome may expresse this great World clouds of per­fumes lodg their vast glories in the circumfe­rence of a grain, a small dath speaks Sol cli­ [...]enant in the large Meridian; and a round O [Page 97]notes the broad fact Moon, in a full Orb. In Maps points spells Parnassus, and a line great Helicon: Methinks it was but a fond vapouring of the Old P [...]ër, and onely fit for the proud vaunts of an undaunted Stoick to say

With his good leave, I would alter the phrase and say

Love is a great Magician. Hence (as In­chanters) Lovers by shady umbrages and dark representations of a Lady burn them­selvs by a sensless Rapture carried by a delu­sive waf age into the air of fancy. Hence beau­tious eyes, like the bewitching Basilisks stu­pefie the lovers mind, till by an unvanquished inflammation of desires, with Regulus in his [Page 98]barrell, he dyes by looking at those sunny Rayes, what else is, I pray, the soft allurments with which Endymion made Luna discend from her high sphear to his homely Cell. What else are these oft-repeated groans, but magicall tearms, charming philters, and A­matory numbers. Nay, and I know not whe­ther to admire the strong motions in that which is beloved, or in the Lover, those deli­neaments of flatteries, those smiling faces moving with inchanting perswasions, where Love a circle, there exerciseth his execrati­ons. Why Rosamond in her flourishing Epi­t [...]th was called Rosa-mundi may be thus no­ted, that Loves powerful Magickneverscrued her beauties to a higher perfection then the sading flower. Had Demosthenes bin inspi­red with this love, as he was with eloquence, the Old Heathens might have hummed him with the deserved applause of

[Page 99] Which Persius Englished in Latine by a mild Satyr.

The Poets Libri were their Liberi which af­ter ages put to Nurses use, but when they are the Off-spring of great love, all things comes to suck hony from their breasts, for my part I would have my last fate survive in it's me­moriall, which speaks more then a glorious Urn, though I were entombed like Pompey with a

For I do remember, Alexander when hee came to the Tomb of Achilles and saw that stout Greek shut (like a mirror in a Cabinet) in sobasea Mausolaeum, presently weptin words Haeccine sunt Trophaea? Can the World afford no better honors, had he bin monumentized [Page 100]with i'ts Oriental gems he would have bin the Son of Jupiter, whose mother is Immortality. My scrip is always open, O for that, this great Maecenas would throw in some crums, the Channell of my life is almost dried, O for this Spring of flowing goodnesse, for it's charity is not grown cold, nor doth those lustres here dwindle like the Morning starrs into an Eve; as the Caldeans writ their good men in Hy­rogliphicks and intelligible words, that they might mould away in the rust of oblivion. For it was not the immortal Poësy of laureat Homer, nor the dippings of Lethe's Rivolets, but Love's ever verdant florishings, which deified the great Greek, as Poets, Kings, did always survive in the rare-living flowers of their Gardens. When some Poetasters were callow, and their scarce Pen-feathered Pinneons knew a soarage of an airy travell. Homer had got wings and mounted the top-Eliment of immortallity, while his flaggy Muse scans the brave ditties of Hellens Amo­rofities, beyond humane dispute. When the transcorporating Pithagoreans did but lisp forth their broken language, Plato could speak [Page 101]and had bin surely entombed in the monu­ment of love, for an everlastang Pyramid but that foolishly he expected a Revolution, the Platonick year. Happy Aristotle well stamped his Eutelechia, for love is harmony, and har­mony is the soul, and both together make the sublimest persection, & this made the laugh­ing Philosopher waft his intellect to so high a grade as to think upon another life. This made Socrates bid his friends bury his body, but not think they had buried Socrates. This made the Stoicks scorn their Welch-Pedegree whose tenets after death are to eat the green Cheese Moon. Here comes a Pollitick Plato and he will have Verses for his Se­pulcher-stone; but let it be that Heroi­con of Ovia. Here lyes the Master of loves. Here comes Democritus with ages winding­sheet, gray hair, intreating the Athenian to be Embezelled in hony, but let it be with Loves Rosaries, and such embalment will make his name fragrant to all posterity. Here comes a Roman, to have his Urn arayed with sweet-smell'd flowers, fading vanities. Venus her Myrtle shall adorn my Herse [Page 102]as an ever-verdant Cypresse. For I can only shadow forth Love by Paradise, a bank of Lillies, a Garden of Roses. Caesars Motto was a book and a spear, and at every on-set, Love with the great Roman can subscribe on the book with the point of it's sword. Veni, Vidi, Vici. I came, I saw, I overcame.

Love is the extension of the soul, and lives defused through the glorious Microcosm man now here, now there, now ev'ry where. Who­soever loves, by that reason because he loves he is a number and no more one. In Love's Arithmatick he's more then a Cypher. Inlov's Musick he's more then a Semi-quaver. In Loves Geography he's more then a smal point and in Loves laws he's no Ignoramus.

Souls entertain souls, and Moralists who Sometimes graze with herds of Philosophers say, nunquam solus, quam cum minus solus, as if their bonus-genius, guardian Angells were their Comrades, & I think they might indeed lash forth into superstition, who were down-right Pagans, and though amongst the Petulant Romans, young men were only to act Venus her interludes because a Crown [Page 103]of Roses did not become the gray-head yet how often have I seen the Stoick-looks of a dogish old man, quell the naturall affections of a young Amorist (like a little Boy, pursuing the painted gaieytes of a Butterflyes wings) that upon the assaulte, he might prove his on­ly rivall: How often would the old wanton desire to survive, like Mezentius in his Fune­rall Tomb, that he might espouse his second birth to the World in amorous celebrations; How often would the Antiplatonick desire to live Retro to imbrace a beautious Lady, though it be beyond the possibility of love, to prescribe an Apotheosis to any humanity. I have Read that noble Lycurgus made an Edict for every one to love, and no irrati­onality: For Venus her Myrtle, as Bromius his Ivy, can court the Male with winning imbraces, still weaving her self to & fro, in his boughes: And those feasting Symposists, I mean the devouring Epicures, could live in the world without adjuvances of an Omni­potent power, but not without the Om­nipotent power of Love's Providence whose Godhead, they did invoke with strict [Page 104]Religion of their Christianity, though it was but a brutish Zeale, as by the fond tenets of superstition, the Egyptians wor­shiped Cats and Dogs, Onions and Leeks, Serpents and Crocodiles But Gellia impati­ent at her absent lover, would have been Prostrate to an Image (so sung the Cambo-Brittanian, Epigrammatist) which was a high­er Crimen then ever Egypt committed, with his Nilean Monsters, yet it is a peice of Piety to pitty her madnesse, for some will love foo­lishness, rather then not love, the Poët argues the fact as Innocence; because.

It is impossible to dim the Radiant light, of love's splendors, or give those glimmer­ing Rayes a totall Privation, for we admire at the inviolated beames of translucent Phae­bus; so may we the hot sparkes of Cupidinian fire, whose Vestall flames have no extinguish­er, [Page 105]It's refulgent illustrations which lies dart­ing in a large Lature of an Orient Pearl, will never be abbreviated in the small Epitomy of a spark, Those vigorous beames, which lustre forth in the highest Meridian of a Noon-day glory, will never glimmer in the Matutine blush of a Rudish dawne, Love it fell from Heaven (where Prometheus stole his animate fire) and though it halts a little, for want of Immortallity, like the Poëts My­thology of limping Vulcan, it asspires to the same center: If your unruled presumption scorne to ride, with a small bit, but in an un­bridled passion Curveight a loft, to the nulli­fying of this Sun beam, either it will fire your desires into a correspondency, or dazle your dull eyes, in the black vaile of obscure night, and the next morning, reclused from that in­tolerable Purgatory, turn Persian, & fall into adoration: It is just like the proud boughs of the Palme, the more they are trodden down, the higher the rise: And in a delicate complement, wantons with your oppression: Saith the commick.

And indeed my desiers, when they lash forth, tends by a naturall motion, to the fair­est Center; and thinkes never sufficiently they imbrace a Lady, by imbraces, or injoyes enough of her injoyments: As now it is impossible but to love, so I would not have you love diverse objects, Penelope (that quoted Matron of Chastity) is figured plaiting her loose tresses into one Embroidery, to shew we must not diffuse our affections, on various pleasures, Alexander when he had got one World, like a Child, cryed for another, but the great armies of such inconsiderate desi­ers, you may disband, which but aggravate the fruition, if you be men, in whose Heroick natures all courteous entertainment, for brave Ladies, do generally concenter, and combine sine tongues, melting into amorous speeches still Perioded with the sweet Catastrophe [Page 107]of a kisse. Smiling faces, Ravishing their eyes Peircing those Sunny beames, with secretaemu­lations; And composed of all other virtues by your deserts, which in others would appear an Hyperboly. Then seek brave Paragons, e­qually endowed with rarest excellencies, let their bloomy cheeks outvye Aprill's carnati­on Roses, fragrant in freshest buds, let their white hands, Excell the finest Lillies of flowry May, like Virgin sweets, enthroned in July's bosom; Let their ruby lips be the banquetting Table of pleasure; Whose bal­my dainties are more rare then that Ambro­sia, longe since I heard a Poët talke of, I may believe it, though I never see't: There like Mount Hyblas Lord Paramount, whose Epi­curean stomach, like the strict Publican, takes the Tole of spicey flowers, and at last En­tombes his aery-body, loaden with riches in a Honey combe, you may feast, and then be interred in the rareties, more famous then those sparkling Adamants. Cleopatra Pyrami­zed for her costly Marble, such Ladies you may love at the first sight, yet make use of second considerations, for sometimes we are [Page 108]deceived by the adulterate paint of pulchri­tude, and are miserable indeed, when wee think our selves happy: He darkned his house, who made sullen the Sun, with wri­ting too often Fiat lux in his windowes, Pyg­malion was enamoured on the Picture he had so beautiously figured, and really thought it Divine: The curled locks of Epicurus-opi­nions brandishing the rare outsides of a so­phisticated face which cloathed in the gayat­tirement of Silken robes, peeped from the spruce Nunnery of a naked breast; knew no other blandishing of virtues, or torments of death, but the kisses of Venus: He who's dwellings are in a Garden, cannot crown his wanton head in Rose-buds, without the pricking coynesse of surly thorns. The car­rousing merry Anacreon, that quaffing Greek, whose tipling Cups were crown'd brimmers, in full Canary, at the health of his Para­mour, was by a most Emphatical Tautopathy choaked with the dry husk of a Grape, Ixion affectionately Imbraced the cloud for Juno, therefore folly is the property of a man, as humanum est errare. Here wee see some [Page 109]men doat, in their predominant passions, and others no way love enough, as to arrive at that infortunate happinesse Men like Hymet­ta's Birds, culls only sweet flourishings, distil­ling the Elixar of them to a cunning Chymi­stry; to whom (as it is true amongst Pyloso­phers) it is sceptically propounded to love, & so by that inconstancy to extract flower, e­ver & anon, another flower, till by a various mellification, they suck all the redolent sweets from Flora's sields: Indeed, it is confest, we cannot alwayes live in imbraces, those vir­tues we behold in a Ladies beauty, or in a Picture, where we see drawn her breasts, the pretty Images of virtue, here Ossa bedewed with milk, there Pelion Embalmed with Ho­ney, the more we gaze upon them without any intervall in beholding another object, the sooner our weak eyes are dazled from any glances; But do you firs suffer those little rayes of love. I once stood amute to see, to illustrate, their splendors without any glim­merings, for I am not envious to see your brightest beames glare smal splendor more glorious, then the small vapors of my twink­ling [Page 110]twilight, rather with the Elephant I will rejoyce, to hover under such blazeing Sun­shine. Tapers thus adumbrate their light at the Meridian candor, of a Torch, and Starrs in their highest Orbs, thinks it an honour to be shaddows of a morning Phoebus.

Love it is not the onely prerogative of men, but other inferiour creatures have it in a naturall indowement: Hence Clite salutes the Sun with her golden leaves, invelope­ing the bright Radiums of hear, evaporated from his Rosy wings, in the Christal Cabinet of her chaste bosome, till she becomes a Va­gative star; With the same aemulation of af­fections, the very stones drawing from the Ʋbiqueous aire, his rarest Refulgences do in a sollid and concrete light from their flinty Ma­teria dissolue into an orient Pearl, brandish­ing no lesse a beauty, when like a Satyr it is rugged in snaggy deckings, or when tis glo­riously burnished in chaines of gold: Thus while Neptune receiveth silver Cinthea's famed motion on his pearly waters, rejoyceth no lesse, in the Caelestiall intelligence of that Orbe, then he was before amazed with [Page 111]the beautious approach of that lovely Venus; we want indeed a Phylosophicke hearb but we have a Philomathematick flood, which furer then the strict Ephemerides of water, shewes us the sable deliquiums of pale Luna. We have Astronomicall flowers which de­monstrate the Sunn's high motion; Horo­logically denoting each point of the de­clining day. The superlative brightnesse of splendant Cinthia courts the Super-super­lative Radiance of resplendant Appollo, and Taper-glimmerings salutes Torch, brandishings, as the Hispanian Plebescites im­mitate the royall Majesty of their high Emperor: Look at the white Superficies Angel-glory on silver Doves, with what wanton contentions do they sound the noyse of clamorous complaints. Hear the murmuring Turtles, who by a humane instinct Carolls the Epithalamy, when Aprill begins to cast her Nun-like skin and present her self to open view for a bloomy Virgin, and you will confesse these are the lively Emblems of men whose heat, of love should make them chant a [Page 112]song, to see a Lady in whose refreshing bo­some, you might cool the burning flames: Yet some doat on the superficiall pleasure, Loves but for a day. Neither how to an­swer that Religion, can I any way deter­mine, sure if the world be blind, they will have women to bee the Expletive Particle of that Homer: They find forth a new way of Imbracements, and by the Pe­tulant Method of such wantonings, divirgi­neth Love, the feigned stories of Poëtick fu­rie, that single soules wandered on the happy bowers of Elizium, (add this Comment to brighten the Text) that the very flowers gorgeously arrayed in fresh Apparellings, of summer-triming April, wheresoever those Sainted Ladies troad, grew up, and thence derive their generations, who (while they immured a little by meditation) fell in imbraces with their tender feet, as Heliotrops at the morning Apollo.

For the Divine Artificer, (before this World's fabrick was made by the Architecto­nicall power of his word, from the preexistent Chaos) had but this solace to live, in love and contemplation; which is felicity enough, and more Perfection then was on this side Heaven. Those too fortu­nate starrs do not appear so welcome to the banquetting devotions, of poor Marriners, as they are at the entertainment of their owne selves, they leap into one body (while the one gives halfe of his Immortality to the other) and like Hypocrates-twins cryes and laughs, lives and dies, at one breath: Hence for a secret imbrace (as Venus her votaries were carried to their Nuptialls like the Roman Ladies in a silken vaile ( Hercules was voted a Demigod in Love's Registers, and had more Treasures of honours, entailed upon his valour, when he conquered the Monster Women, then when hee shook his sharp-darted Lance at the cruellest Hydra.

What need the Soul seeke stately Divi­nity, [Page 114]if it have but love, The Ethnicks vanted Nature in such Hyperbolicall vaporings, as if that onely Deity could make them happy: What some of their sect whispered forth, some spoke aloud [...]? What are other things to us? yet who wonders at a Panygercik Encomio­nized in the praise of the Moon, with them who never beheld the Sun-beames, but such felicity is dormant; neither can those high-flown wings soar at the farr stretched eliment of perfection, but with one hand pitched up to Heaven, like the Boy in the Emblem, has the other hand stretched down to Hell. The Stoicks, happy men, whose holy eyes still looked through the windows of light, never did adventure so high in towering expressions to make their souls- Pinneons, mount the top-sphere of felicity; they indeed dared to call it a spirit as in some sence, dim-twilight reason issuing from dark-Lanthorn Nature shew­ed them it was separable from the body, and Pythagoras before had took his transmigra­tion into a Frog. But Love needs not [Page 115]such false Herauldry; whose name long since was blazoned on Incarnate Deity, and should she again (as divine Plato thought of virtue) assume a Corporall being, the least glance of such a brave Paragon, would dazle our Ruffling gallants into the dimest Night of wonder, while I my self might Chant this dirge — Ʋt vidi, ut Perij.

The starr-fed Mathematicians would scorn Heaven's illustrious Physiognomy, while the long Jacbos-staffe of their desires, aimes at their skye-like face. The Phylosophers would scorne their thred-bare Coat of Phy­siology, to blazon the rare composure of her Metaphysicall features. And the wearied Pilgrim, whose weak head is decayed in the Elaborate travells of Religion, would sing a Requiem to his journeys, and fall in adoration of such a shrine. The Poët he [...]ells, us Jupiter est quodcunque amas: Whatsoever wee love, is a Godhead to our selves. And is it so? Then the covetous man, who courts his Decoy Gold, till it looks Red in anger, or when he falls to adore't, blusheth at his Idolatry, he kisseth Jove [Page 116]in a piece of money. Yet, for Jupiter was metamorphosed to a golden shower in the attempt of a silver Danae. And is it so? then the good old man who kist his Cow, was Jove in one sence; thus was Eurpa dismount­ed on Cretas florulent Plains by a wanton Bull: And is it so? Then the epicure de­vours Jove at his Sumptuous Bacchinalls changed to a Lilly-Swan. Yet luxurious in those chaster plumes, he sips up Jupiter, wantoning with Ganymed in Nectar and Ambrosia. The Heathens did deifie the worst of men, that they might colour the black aspersions of sad crimes, with that pure tincture of innocence, because their alligation was made in immutation of those gods; thus the fool in the Comedy seeing Jupiter acted in Adultery; would needs commit a Rape, because Jove did so; but love is of a better temper, and to falfifie those glories of it's goodnesse by our equali­ty is a piece of folly, for the Indians can paint the Divell white, that he in those innocent Robes might seeme their God in a higher de­gree of Perfection, & indeed the Camelion-as [Page 117]can appear in any colour. Thus wee may know divine love (all created excellencies shines with borrowed beames, for when the Heathens beautified their nature as a Goddesse they went a gathering Hyperbo­lies in the Poëts gardens, to flourish forth that Entity, as the Painter run with his bill of Items, from one a Cheek, from one a Lip, from another an Eye, (to represent the most beautifull Venus) she blazeth forth in her own lustres, & other beauties would but like great blots deface the Coppy, or by a tedious Parenthesis check, and eclipse so rare a Sunshine. I confesse the grunting Epicurians by the vain froth of foamy imaginations, would model for their Diana according to their own corruptions; but those garlick-pallates sauced with Onion­smells are banished this Respublick, (as Poëts were, who made adulterate their gods from Plato's Idaea) for will we new-mold Love in a worse Effigies, that were to tae [...] Rurall pleasures, for Angelicall dainties; Avant! Avant such madnesse! We will not Court the flint for a flowery arbour, whenas [Page 118]we have Hebes to make our downy beds and Love's Ganymeds to attend our Royall­ties, yet here my feeble wings only flutter a Toarage, nor can they scan the high pole of it's deserts, here like Geographers, who in describeing the Terra incognita fill a Map with Antick creatures, Monsters, and prodigious sights: So I must either write Misteries, a Rose, a Cheek, a Christall, a Tear, a Ruby, a Lip, a Comet, an Eye to describe Love; or leave a space to be filled by a better Artist. For the stout Aristotelans, who thought Sol's Rayes, to their Prying curi­osities, were but atendants, and the Pla­ [...]onicks, who raised their flanting wits to a higher bravery, by calling his illustra­tions their shades, could never touch the [...]igh sphere of this glory; like moyling Muck worms they gruffle in the dust, and [...]o return to their first Nothing, which [...]mmateriality after annihilation, love onely can make immortall. The Egyptians Hiero­glyphick for Legislative power was Oculus [...]n sceptro. And if we mortalls were Cur­ [...]ained from the fair Prospect of Love by [Page 119]the cloudy vizard of ignorance, how would the World look like the great Polyphem in his dark Cave without an eye.

And now although Love may be wandring, proved by so many instances, like the steel touched with the attractive virtues of two Loadstones, tends to neither, and yet to both: First hovering over those pleasant thickes where it pryeth with constant devotions, and by and by flapping it's falcon-wings to yonder groves as resolute in fervent vow, still at the last fixeth it's Morall constancies in one end. Feign an imperious or obsequious supremacy in Love (then those brave Eteocles and Polinices rules in subalternate courses) both are but one singular possessiō entertain­ing one Master. Feigh love in it's high attri­butes to be a deity, then it is but agent in the theheavenly bondaries of one Paradise. Feign [Page 200]this tenuous Love melting into the aiery fe­licity of kisses to be fire, then it's motion is concentrick in one sphere. And feign it to be a gift, then it is sent to the acceptance of one Lady, as Coesar shovelled in his Indian pearles at the consecration of Lauretto's shrine, as heavenly Sydney breathed his subli­mest Eulogiums in the Panegerick of immor­tall Stella deified by his Angel-Quill, and as the Roman Petrach sollicited only the glo­rious fame of Laura's beauties. For not to be Resolved in one object is to aver the Plura­lity of Nuptialls in soul [...], and admit of a Po­ligamy in Hymenealls of friendship, this were to tye and loos, Nubere & denubere, and they that use that graduation; I would have them cry'd up for mad men, or beg'd for fools.

Some have thought this Love which distin­guisheth men from bruits should turn men into bruits. A pretty Metamorphosis indeed! Sure Ovid was of a better temper, then to libell against that Saint he much adored, to think so as a Stoicks barbarity whose unpessionate soul is but the dirty excre­ments of stone. Can humane Love shrink [Page 201]into the black Rayes of an inhumane Apo­stacy? Forbid it Jove. They meerly dream and therefore fancy such infelicity, for dreams are the fancies of men asleep, and fancies are the dreams of men awake. No, No, None can love too much, when none can love enough, for although its Rayes are displayed to some in a greater Meridian as Phoebus his beams by a peculiar influence inaureates the Rodian Kingdomes, yet in case there is no fear of a beautifying condi­tion, for some in the very hot Sphere of their imbred desires can live untouched like the Cold Salamander in her house of fire. And in other some love is the assistant form as those Ethnick Phylosophers ascribed an Intelligence to the Heavens, and since the old Pagans would attribute no obli­vion of life unto love, it must have a Rationall body wherein the vitall spirits might live Posthumus, as a shade circumludeth Apollo's lustres.

Yet perhaps in spight of Cupid you scorn to love, well, say it were so, that his in­fant Lad-ship could not strike sparkes from [Page 122]that flinty Resolution. The very Magne­tick brow of a stately Lady would fire that snowy chilnesse to an amorous heat. Her winning affections would invite your Appetite, as an Orator's swelling metaphors to feed upon fancies, the starry Splendan­ces of a Radiant eye (where the little boy sits enshrined, darting his flamy shafts) would force your Captive Genious to im­braces. And yet how often in catching at her beauty (the fair shade of her body) shall you be deluded like birds who pecked at the tempting allurements of Zeuxis his Painted grapes, how oft shall you freeze in hot embers of the torrid Zone. How oft melt in heat under the cold blasts of the frigid Orb, so that as Agrippa bought the Roman Empire for Tyrant Nero with the Prize of her own life. Occidat modo imperet— You would desire to be laid on the funerall Pyre suppose those perfumed flames would wast your second resurrection to her Elizium. 'Tis Cupids Revengements indeed, yet to be excused, for he follows the judgment of his eyes, more then his mind, [Page 123]and therefore falls into it by a blind igno­rance. For my Part, I would croud into the hot sparkes of a Lady's eye, in ambition to scorch my wings with the proud flye. For my part, I would verdure like the Purple Roses on her Crimson cheeks, Say, May leavs were dulled by those eye-lightning beams.

For tell me, have I not seen Xerxes and Polydorus crave their Statues instead of nobler objects, and fall into a complement. I mean a kisse. Like women of Gaules, whom brave Caesars Curb'd with one word for playing wantonly with little doggs. Have I not seen Lesbia by a solemn matrimony imbracing the Sparrow, and as often have, as she wished for a trans­migration making good our Poëticall Me­tamorphosis, which would have Rationalls [Page 204]migrate into stones, trees, fishes, birds. Neither is it strange to me! that any man at Cupid's intreaties should become votary to a Womans shrine. For Love is a God perswasive enough in an oily lan­guage first inspired from the Romans mel­lifluous Suada, and therefore the old Phy­losophizing Poets, who preserved the Epe­thite from Lethe's spunge did not colour, their expressions with the least false Paint of flatteries. This hee hath of god head to reient into commiserations at the rea­red Hecatombs of his adorers. This hee hath of god-head to bestow his favours on each amorous dotard who intreats him for the sweet Tempe of a silver-breasted La­dy. This makes me believe, a Deity is infinite, and Love like a circle is without end. And this makes be believe, since his Secretaries as Pious Converts sacrifizeth their victims in sacred Rites of Reve­ [...]entiall venerations. And while mens breasts are the Altars, Love himselfe turnes into fire: Where the offered heart s [...]ans heaven in Perfumed incense: So [Page 205]indeed it is, when I hear Dirgicall Threnothreambicks foot it away for haste in a Lover's breath. It represents fire Circumcepted in a cloud, each groan, thun­der asp [...]reing into flames: as often as I see the boiling bubles of teares, then I think on Aetna's burning Incendaries, or the Vesu­vian Coales sparkling in midst of snow, like Tapers made to burn in waters. As I see Love put on the shaggy flames of dispair, then I confesse the Ruggy fates of a beard­ed Comet like the disheveled haire of Heavens starrs aemulated in those Rageing sumes.

Methinks I hear Love claime a Heriot­due in the Tenements of Heaven, while soules desuninated become derivative from the favorable starrs appearing at their festivall Natalitiums, as often as the fiery natures of those Lascivious Pla­nets desires Injunction, as Mars with Venus, and Jupiter with Luna, Men by wanton effeminacy, are Ʋxorius Requiring the gallant conjunction of Hymenealls. so that, those benign Meteors don't ominate the suc­cessive [Page 126]fortunes, but espouseth their faint hopes by Reall enjoyments. Yet to passe by those proud wantonings in a sphere above my humirepens Muse, and to Phy­losophize in the least Punctilios. It is not the heat of Heavens, but of a Lovers breast which congregates the Homogeneall won­ders, for man and wife are but in a cano­nick Phrase an Hermophrodite, it is not the coelestiall influences which drives a man into the sweet Ocean of pleasures, but the heady streams of Natures zeal, though by not understanding the carde by which he avoideth Shipwrack, sometimes sets sail into the mare-mortuum of sorrows: And thus by a delight of deception, not only beauty but the similitudes of beauty he joy­fully adores. He sucks the liquid hony di­stilling it's sugred sweets from a Roseall lip, though he be prickt with an obnoxius sting, as Cupids plumed darts, feathered with gold, the more they please, the more they torment for Roses grow on the surley brier, and sweet meats are allayed with sowre sawce. So that old Maro was a Coujurer to confine his rea­ons, [Page 127]to a circle where there was no Vacuum left to be filled with contradictions: The fairest flower has a bad Redolency & by Flo­ra's meads Jacet anguis in herba. Thus the sweet Musick of Rhetoricating figures, doth by deosculating our mouthes, taint them with the Red-tincture of flatteries, and then from the hony filth, of poysonous Roses, steal the white extraction of Lilly-kisses. When a Ladie's Dovemind purples her cheeks Argent. Or, there you may behold the rich-bowers of Damask-Pancies, or if her Crimson cheeks were coloured with the Sanguine dye of a Velvet-blush, the pretty shape of Cupid coms taillured forth from that Artist, though no otherwise then the Mellancholick body, feignes distinct Species of shades sembling those whom great Poëtastors told of long since, to wander this fide Styx, which vanish at the approach, and disappear at the action of injoyments, but when the Crimson Ca­nopy disvailed her brightest beauties; be­holding the ravishing felicities of that Divi­ne form by amolestious Quaery, it makes tran­sparent my cares, how I should be entertained [Page 128]in those sporting pleasures, the sweet Thes­saly of a love-dyeing soul, where her Regall brow is the great dining House of Hospital­lity, and those pleasant Rayes trajected from a Sunny eye, the Sugred dainties, Where if you listen to the silent Oratory of Smile­spoken expressions; you may catch at the silken-wit, Oracles wrapped up in rich Elo­quence, where the brave force of manners being represented in the Epitomy of her face, with your intelligent eyes, you may [...]ead, the animate System of Ethicks. Where When you see her Orient beauty bound in the Diamond-garment of a Pearl, in a won­der you may exclaime, O Netts! O Vulcan! be­hold Venus diprehended in Mars his stony armes; And O Beauty! say I, not worthy the dishonour of this Empire. We congratulate [...]ove, and his Rapacious Eaglet which did not envy this earthly Pulchritude, Plato might here ravish himself with this Phylosophy; and contemplate a purer Idaea with his eyes, then purblinde Meditations; thou might [...]t have set thy young man, O Socrates in the transparent lustres of her Cheeks, as in [Page 129]a glasse, to make gawdy his flattering beauties, and for thee O Eudoxus, it is lawful, Sol's Rayes being outvyed, at this great Luminary to speculate (like Minippus in the Moon) the Natures of humanity. Orpheus his Lyre was but Predominant to wild beast, but here's a Voyce would curb Phylosophers of a Rati­onall being, Phoebus his splendors has lost the prerogative, for here's a Ray, able to force obliquity in the best-sighted Eaglet, Here's a face able to ravish a man, though of a Pla­tonick tenet, and we who cannot love this perfection, just like little boyes become En­amoured on our own Pictures, for it is not the folly of one Narcissus to fall in love with the body's shadow, neither answer mee thus, 'tis a shade, how can it love again, know it is a necessity of nature, to light one Incendarie at another, one flame at another flame: And it is an Approved Magick beyond the aequipollent power of Charming Philters.

Lastly, as it is an Indigne thing to give a rea­son of love; So that love is most condigne which (as on some flowers grow no seed) has the existance of Eternity. It comes from no cause, and like the heaven's is moved with an invisible intelligence, for there is an occult Sympathy, where without Propin­quity the familiar souls sit hand in hand, as Planum doth adhere to Planum by a con­cinnious glutany, if we may believe our Ma­thematick demonstrations. And now though Love by an Astronomicall deliniation is a circle without end. I by a Geographicall di­scription wil make a full point.