Phœbo pulchrior & sorore Phœbi.

His Phœbe is so fair, she is so bright, She dims the Suns lustre, and the Moons light.

Stars, Suns, Moons, Metals, sweet smelling Flowers, Odours, perfumes, Colours, Gold, Silver, Ivory, Pearls, precious Stones, Snow, painted Birds, Doves, Hony, Suger, Spice, cannot expresse her; so soft so tender, so radiant, sweet, so fair is she.

—— Mollior cuniculi capillo, &c.

Lydia bella, puella candida, Quæ benè superas lac, & lilium, Albamque simul rosam & rubicundam, Et expolitum ebur Indicum.

Fine Lydia my Mistress white and fair, The milk, the Lilly do not thee come near; The Rose so white, the Rose so red to see, And Indian Ivory comes short of thee:

Such a description our English Homer makes of a fair Lady.

That Emilia that was fairer to seen, Then is Lilly upon the stalk green: And fresher then May with flowers new, For with the Rose colour strove her hew, I not which was the fairer of the two.

In this very phrase Polyphemus courts Galatea.

Candidior folio nivei Galatea ligustri, Floridior prato, longâ procerior alno, Splendidior vitro, tenero lascivior hædo, &c. Mollior & cygni plumis, & lacte coacto.

Whiter Galet then the white withie-wind, Fresher then a field, higher then a tree, Brighter then glass, more wanton then a Kid, Softer then Swans down, or ought that may be.

So she admires him again, in that conceited Dialogue of Lucian, which John Secundus, an Elegant Dutch modern Poet hath translated into verse. When Doris and those other Sea Nymphs, upbraided her with her ugly mishapen Lover Polyphemus; she replyes, they speak out of envy and malice,

Et planè invidia huc mera vos stimulare videtur, Quòd non vos itidem ut me Polyphemus amet;

Say what they could, he was a proper man. And as Holoissa writ to her Sweet-heart Peter Abelhardus, Si me Augustus orbis imperator uxorem expeteret, mallem tuæ esse meretrix quam orbis imperatrix; she had rather be his vassal, his Quean, then the worlds Empresse or Queen.

—— non si me Iupiter ipse forte velit; ——

she would not change her love for Jupiter himself.

To thy thinking she is a most loathsome creature; and as when a countrey fellow discommended once that exquisite Picture of Helena, made by Zeuxis, for he saw no such beauty in it; Nichomachus a love-sick spectator replyed, Sume tibi meos oculos & deam existimabis, take mine eyes, and thou wilt think she is a Goddess, dote on her forthwith, count all her vices, vertues; her imperfections, infirmities, absolute and perfect:

If she be flat-nosed, she is lovely; if hook-nosed, kingly; if dwarfish and little, pretty; if tall, proper and man-like; our brave British Bunduica; if crooked, wise; if monstrous, comely, her defects are no defects at all, she hath no deformities. Immo nec ipsum amicæ stercus fœtet, Though she be nasty fulsome, as Sostratu’s bitch, or Parmeno’s sow: thou hadst as live have a snake in thy bosome, a toad in thy dish, and callest her witch, divill, hag, with all the filthy names thou canst invent; he admires her on the other side, she is his Idoll, Lady, Mistris, Venerilla, Queen, the quintessence of beauty, an Angel, a Star, a Goddess.

Thou art my Vesta, thou my Goddess art, Thy hallowed Temple onely is my heart.

The fragrancy of a thousand Curtesans is in her face: Nec pulchræ effigies hæc Cypridis aut Stratonices, ’Tis not Venus picture that, nor the Spanish Infanta’s, as you suppose, (good Sir) no Princess, or Kings daughter; no, no, but his divine Mistress forsooth, his dainty Dulcinia, his dear Antiphila, to whose service he is wholly consecrate, whom he alone adores.

Cui comparatus indecens erit pavo, Inamabilis sciurus, & frequens Phœnix.

To whom confer’d a Peacocks undecent, A Squirrels harsh, a Phœnix too frequent.

All the graces, veneries, elegances, pleasures, attend her. He prefers her before a Myriade of Court Ladies.

He that commends Phillis or Neræa, Or Amarillis, or Galatea, Tityrus or Melibea, by your leave, Let him be mute, his Love the praises have.

Nay, before all the Gods and Goddesses themselves. So Quintus Catulus admired his squint-eyed friend Roscius.

Pace mihi liceat (Cœlestes) dicere vestrâ, Mortalis visus pulchrior esse Deo.

By your leave gentle Gods, this I’le say true, There’s none of you that have so fair an hue.

All the bumbast Epithetes, patheticall adjuncts, incomparably fair, curiously neat, divine, sweet, dainty, delicious, &c. pretty diminutives, corculum, suaviolum, &c. pleasant names may be invented, bird, mouse, lamb, puss, pigeon, pigsney, Kid, hony, love, dove, chicken, &c. he puts on her.

Meum mel, mea suavitas, meum cor, Meum suaviolum, mei lepores.

my life, my light, my jewell, my glory, Margareta speciosa, cujus respectu omnia mundi pretiosa sordent, my sweet Margaret, my sole delight and darling. And as Rhodomant courted Isabella;

By all kind words, and gestures that he might, He calls her his dear heart, his sole beloved, His joyfull comfort, and his sweet delight. His Mistress, and his Goddess, and such names, As loving Knights apply to lovely Dames.

Every cloth she wears, every fashion pleaseth him above measure; her hand,

O quales digitos, quas habet illa manus!

pretty foot, pretty coronets, her sweet carriage, sweet voyce, tone, O that pretty tone, her divine and lovely looks, her every thing, lovely, sweet, amiable and pretty, pretty, pretty. Her very name (let it be what it will) is a most pretty pleasing name; I believe now there is some secret power and vertue in names, every action, sight, habit, gesture; he admires, whether she play, sing, or dance, in what tyres soever she goeth, how excellent it was, how well it became her, never the like seen or heard.

Mille habet ornatus, mille decenter habet.

Let her wear what she will, do what she will, say what she will,

Quicquid enim dicit, seu facit, omne decet.

He applauds and admires every thing she wears, saith or doth,

Illam quicquid agit, quoquo vestigia vertit, Composuit furtim subsequiturque decor; Seu solvit crines, fusis decet esse capillis, Seu compsit, comptis est reverenda comis.

What ere she doth, or whether ere she go, A sweet and pleasing grace attends forsooth; Or lose, or bind her hair, or comb it up, She’s to be honoured in what she doth.

Vestem induitur, formosa est; exuitur, tota forma est, let her be dressed or undressed, all is one, she is excellent still, beautiful, fair, and lovely to behold. Women do as much by men; nay more, far fonder, weaker, and that by many parasanges.

Come to me my dear Lycias, (saith Musarium in Aristænetus) come quickly Sweet-heart, all other men are Satyrs, meer clowns, block-heads to thee, no body to thee: Thy looks, words, gestures, actions, &c. are incomparably beyond all others. Venus was never so much besotted on her Adonis, Phædra so delighted in Hippolitus, Ariadne in Theseus, Thysbe in her Pyramus, as she is inamoured on her Mopsus.

Be thou the Marygold, and I will be the Sun, Be thou the Frier, and I will be the Nun.

I could repeat centuries of such. Now tell me what greater dotage, or blindnesse can there be then this in both sexes? and yet their slavery is more eminent, a greater sign of their folly then the rest.

They are commonly slaves, captives, voluntary servants, Amator amicæ mancipium, as Castilio terms him, his Mistress servant, her drudge, prisoner, bond-man, what not? He composeth himself wholly to her affections, to please her; and as Æmilia said, makes himself her lackey. All his cares, actions, all his thoughts, are subordinate to her will and commandement; her most devote, obsequious, affectionate servant and vassall. For love (as Cyrus in Xenophon well observed) is a meer tyranny, worse then any disease, and they that are troubled with it, desire to be free and cannot, but are harder bound then if they were in iron chains.