Galen boasts that he discovered by the same signs that Justa, wife of the consul Boethius, was infatuated with the actor Pylades: whenever his name was mentioned, both her pulse and her expression changed, as Polyarchus’s did at the name of Argenis. Francisco Vallés, in book 3, controversy 13 of his Medical Controversies, denies that there is any such thing as a “lover’s pulse,” or that love can be detected in this way. But Avicenna, in book 3, fen 1, confirms Galen’s account from his own experience, as does Bernard of Gordon in chapter 20: “Their pulse is irregular and rapid,” he says, “if the woman they love passes by.”

Lange, in book 1, letter 24 of his Medical Letters; Nevizzano, in book 4, number 66 of The Marriage Forest; Valescus de Taranta; Guaineri, treatise 15; and Valleriola record this symptom: “A change in the pulse, neglect of business, sleeplessness, frequent sighing and blushing whenever their mistress is mentioned are clear signs.”

Among the others, the Polish physician Józef Struś, in book 5, chapter 17 of his Doctrine of Pulses, holds that this and all other passions of the mind can be detected from the pulse. “If you wish to know,” he says, “whether the people you suspect are in such a state, feel their arteries.” In book 4, chapter 14, he discusses this particular pulse: “Love makes the pulse uneven.” He gives the example of a gentlewoman he treated, whose passionate attachment, and its object, he discovered by this means. He named many people; at last, when he named the man he suspected, “her pulse began to change and beat faster.” By repeatedly feeling her pulse he understood what was happening.

Apollonius, in book 4 of the Argonautica, poetically describes the meeting of Jason and Medea: both blush at the sight of each other, and at first they cannot speak.

Parmeno, I tremble all over And shudder now that I have seen her.

Phaedria trembled at the sight of Thais. Others sweat and gasp for breath; “their legs and knees tremble.” On such occasions they suffer palpitations: “the heart is close to the mouth,” says Aristaenetus. Their heart leaps into their mouth; they burn and freeze—for love is fire, ice, heat, cold, an itch, a fever, frenzy, pleurisy: what is it not? They turn pale or red and commonly blush at their first meeting. Sometimes, through the violent agitation of their spirits, their noses bleed, even when she is merely spoken of.

Eustathius takes this very sign as evidence of Ismene’s affection: when she unexpectedly met her sweetheart, her face changed to a maiden’s blush. This is common among lovers, as Arnulf, that witty bishop, has well expressed in a humorous epigram:

Their faces answer one another with alternating blushes, And tender modesty reveals the feeling in them both.

Their faces answer, and their blushes tell What each feels for the other.

But the best inferences come from the signs that appear when both lovers are together. Everything they say, their amorous glances, their actions and their lustful gestures reveal them. They cannot restrain themselves from continually kissing.

On his wedding day, while at dinner, the physician Stratocles “took no sip before planting three kisses on the girl”: he could not eat for kissing the bride. First a word, then a kiss; then some further compliment, then a kiss; then an idle question, then a kiss. And when he has drained his wit dry and can say no more, kissing and embracing are never out of season:

This never fails; it is always beginning again.

It never ends: another kiss, and then another, another and another.

Come here, O Thelayra. Come, kiss me, Corinna!

A hundred kisses a hundred times, A hundred kisses a thousand times, A thousand kisses a thousand times, And as many thousands, a thousand times, As there are drops in the Sicilian sea, As there are stars in the sky, On those rosy cheeks, On those softly swelling lips, And on those eloquent little eyes, I shall plant in one unbroken rush, O beautiful Neaera.

As Catullus says to Lesbia:

Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, Then another thousand; give a second hundred, Then still more thousands, then a hundred.

First give a hundred, Then a thousand, then another Hundred; then to the other Add a thousand, and still more.

Until you match the abundance of all the grass, and so forth. So Venus did with her Adonis, and the Moon with Endymion. They are always fondling and embracing, like so many doves, “joining lips to lips as doves do,” and with eagerness and spirit:

They press eagerly against the body, mingling Their mouths’ saliva, and breathe into one another while gripping lips with their teeth.

“With mouth pressed so firmly that they can scarcely draw their lips away, the neck bent back”: so Lamprias kissed Thais in Lucian, and Philippus kissed his beloved in Aristaenetus. “Maddened by love, he clung so fiercely that it was scarcely possible to part our lips, and he bruised my whole mouth.” One of her suitors greeted Aretino’s Lucretia in this way; and it is their usual practice.

Their teeth often play upon the lips, And they press close, fastening kisses upon them.

They cannot, I say, control themselves. They are always joining hands and kissing, but also embracing, treading on each other’s toes and reaching into each other’s bosoms, “willingly and with pleasure,” as Philostratus confesses to his mistress; and as Lamprias in Lucian, “pressing her breasts, with his right hand secretly inside her dress.” They feel their breasts, sometimes with little regard for decency, as the old man in the comedy rightly observed of his son: “Did I not see you put your hand into this girl’s bosom?” Come now! And there are many other such lovers’ tricks.