of Physitians Circumrotated by a gyre just like the Aetherian fire moving in the Similitude of an Orb So that whosoever loves he is carried by a sphaericall motion which like the Egyptian Serpentine year Sua per vestigia Revolvitur Doth to such Circ'lar motions tend As it begins where it doth end 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 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 Dici beatum ante obitum Nemo None without Love can ever be Happy till death end miserie 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 pâ—ay you tell me How can you deny the transcourse of soules when bodies 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 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 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 't is 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 Metempsuchosis into memory for it is his Love and Philosophy Cui amare ac Philosophari est Reminisci For to Remember what 's a kisse Not to approv 't is all his blisse 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 't is 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
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 Epitâ—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 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 See where he goes in learned fame It is Demosthenes by name Which Persius Englished in Latine by a mild Satyr Et Pulchrum est digito monstrari dicier hic est 'T is a grand honour 〈◊〉 be known And that 's the man with fingers shown 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 Hic citus est magnus Here Pompey dead Lyes rarely buried 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 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 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 winding-sheet 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 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 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 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 Semel Insanivimus Omnes None can hinself commend for all Are lame enough since Adam's fall 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 It 's refulgent illustrations which lies darting in a large Lature of an Orient Pearl will never be abbreviated in the
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 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 Portentum est quoties Caepit Imago logus What a Prodigious wonder 't is To see a Picture speak Court kisse But for me 't is 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 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 't is 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 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 Inputeum Stollidus decîdit Asirologus Th' Astrologer into a Well By looking at the Heavens fell Whereas in the christal glass of that rivolet he might have seen the skies brightest beams 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 't is a Tâ—x beyond the Pen as Pencil's Performancâ— I dâ—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 â—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 â—hee O Love It was of thee that the fam'd Philosopher rais'd his Panygerick to a Map 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 â—â—â—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 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 so heard is it without Ariadnes clew to find forth the inextricate windings 't is 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 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 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 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 't is 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 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 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 In Caelum est meritrix in Caelum turpis adulter That starry Palace Royal state Of Jove is but adulterate 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 't is the Probatum est
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 state of Love's Diana temple but that verified Axiome of Logicians proves loves glories Nihil dat quod non habet Amor nec habet nec dat malum Things must be ours before we give First breath and then you 'l sur'ly live 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 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 Corvos Poëtas Poëtridasque Picas Cantare Credas Pegaseium melos A song is hard yet Daws may easy do it A Crow's an Orator a Goose a Poet. But they conclude like the Roman bird whom the Cobler's Grammer had elegantly taught when by an Extempore speech shee cryed forth Oleum operam perdidi For me to speak is all in vain You loose your labour I get pain 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 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 Mâ—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 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 Poëâ—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 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 impâ—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 cliâ—enant in the large Meridian and a round O 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 Pâ—ër and onely fit for the proud vaunts of an undaunted Stoick to say Primos in orbe deos fecit timor 'T was fear at first which did create Gods in their sanctified state With his good leave I would alter the phrase and say Primos in orbe Deos fecit amor 'T was the immortall name of Love Made Gods on earth in Heaven above 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 barrell he dyes by looking at those sunny Rayes what else is I pray
should make them chant a 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 Non alia Coeli gaudia amare aut amari Nen alia terrae To love and to be lov'd is the Heaven and earth's Inbile 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 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 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 Vt 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 â—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 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 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 taeâ— Rurall pleasures for Angelicall dainties Avant Avant such madnesse We will not Court the flint for a flowery arbour whenas 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 Plaâ—onicks who raised their flanting wits to a higher bravery by calling his illustrations their shades could never touch the â—igh sphere of this glory like moyling Muck worms they gruffle in the dust and â—o return to their first Nothing which â—mmateriality after annihilation love onely can make immortall The
Egyptians Hieroglyphick for Legislative power was Oculus â—n sceptro And if we mortalls were Curâ—ained from the fair Prospect of Love by the cloudy vizard of ignorance how would the World look like the great Polyphem in his dark Cave without an eye Monstrum horrendum ingens cui lumen ademptum To see a man without an eye Doth argue much deformity 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 possessioÌ„ 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 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 soulâ— 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 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 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 'T is Cupids Revengements indeed yet to be excused for he follows the judgment of his eyes more then his mind 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 Nil dulcius est amari aut amare praeter hoc ipsum amare aut amari Nothing 's like love but love a beam a beam Aequalls Gallaxia Milkey-Cream 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 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 Reveâ—entiall venerations And while mens breasts are the Altars Love himselfe turnes into fire Where the offered heart sâ—ans heaven in Perfumed incense So 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 aspâ—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 Vxorius Requiring the gallant conjunction of Hymenealls so that those benign Meteors don't ominate the successive 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 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 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 â—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 â—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 â—t have set thy young man O Socrates in the transparent lustres of her Cheeks as in 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 't is 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 Si vis amari ama First ask and then an Answer taketh place Salute and then 's a Resaluting grace 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 On the death of his Friend TAOMAS SHIPTON Drowned AN ELEGY TO drown thee twice in Water and in tears Is double sin and th' Histriographers Would write it Chronicle that Readers may At it their tributary wonders pay But peace dear ashes 't is not our intent To bury the i th' watry Element Of our sad eyes as by a tear Pearl'd Into a Marble monument congeal'd Then might our griefe as deluged by woe With sorrows aquae-ducts so over flow As now Entomb'd in the same Sea perplext Dye mourning Comments on a mourn'd-for text We don't condole thy fate nor roses bring The Velvet-Violets of the Maiden-spring Nor the gay Lillies of a gaudy verse In rich attirements to adorne thy herse Thy fragrant glories without flowers of same Is Spicery enough t' embalme thy name And make 't like Neptune's Amber-grace which may But touch the watery surface of the Sea Wee 'le not bemoan thy obsequies nor get Those reliques clos'd in a rich Mahomet Who 's grave is aire more sainted like doth lye Betwixt two Magnâ—tâ— earth and Loadstone-skye It is a soile to wear no robes but black And showes that age did it's perfection lack Whenas thy fall Anteus-like doth rise With greater fame then our strait soules can prize It is not beauty tincture and that dye On sullen cheeks lymn'd with griefe 's agony Nor is' t the best Persume to smell the sent Of incense on his grave most Redolent For with those Thracians Revellings of mirth Were cryes Produced at each young mans birth But high-sung Aieres in corranting breath Of harmony was Caroll'd at their death We may admire that buriall not lament Th' Antumne of his June and Aprill spent In too-too ripe a blossom with delight Rich Rose-buds are decayed in a Night Spring-Lillies in their nonage thus do fade Like Heliotrops at Sol's declining shade E're May December meet and so do vary Th' Year to a continnued January Now happy Soul who from the floods appear T' have gain'd the purchase of a better sphere And sits enshriâ—ed in those sublime skies Amongst the hâ—aven-bred-holy