CHAP. XXII. _Some Observations concerning Love and Women; selected out of the choicest Commentators on their nature, together with his own experimental reflections._ Love ’tis confest is a Natural distemper, a kind of small Pox; most have either had it, or is to expect it, and the sooner the better. Surely I was never well cur’d on’t, or else I had not thus fallen in a Relaps. Want of knowledge misguided me at first, and so I fell into a _Quagmire_; but I knew not what possest me to ride afterward into another on purpose. Love-seeds when it grows up to Matrimony is good for nothing, like some Fruit-trees which must be transplanted before they will bring forth any thing. And when Love in this nature doth seed, the encrease thereof is dissatisfaction, sorrow and vexation multiplied. This afore-mentioned is not truly love but lust; for I cannot believe that that noble passion can be the ruine of its subject; neither would I have it disparaged by so unworthy an object as a woman. If there be Love, it should be to Heaven, a male-friend, relations, or our Countries preservation, and not to a Female-piece of imperfection. And yet nothing will serve the turn, but monopolizing it by Marriage, because we would make it surely our own, and nevertheless our own till then. For if she be young, she is like an Hawk upon her wing; and if she be handsome, she is the more subject to go out at check. Faulkners that can but seldom spring right game, should still have something to take them down. The lure to which all stoop in this World, is either garnisht with profit or pleasure, and when you cannot throw her the one, you must be content to shew out the other. Consider again that woman (besides the trouble) is a Rent-charge which though the curiosity of man hath often inclosed, yet he cannot for his life stop so well one gap, but it will lie open for any stragler; by which means it seldom improves or becomes fruitful. And why should a woman be denyed the liberty of breaking a pane in her own window, or not admitted the freedom of regress to her own salli-port, letting in whom she esteems as friends? If you will not give them the permission, you must be forc’d to wink when they take it, or do worse: crosse them, and they will endeavour the not leaving a crosse in your Pocket. Take it which way you will, Marriage is the dearest way of curing love. Faring with such, as it doth with those for the most part that at great charges walls in grounds and plant, who cheaper might have eaten Mellons elsewhere, than Cucumbers in their own Garden. Besides, it is a gross piece of ignorance to be bound up to love for an age, when the cause of love may perish for a month, and then the effect will follow. If it be natures paint in the face, that doth induce you; those beautiful flowers of red and white, a disease will quickly wither; if not, ravishing time will deflowre the choicest beauty.