_Just as I was dispatching this, a mail came in from_ Spain, _that gave us an account of the king of_ France_’s having extended his dominions over the plate-fleet; but whilst he was drinking_ Chateau-Renault_’s health, some two or three merry_ English _boys run away with it all; which has given_ Loüis _and his grandson such a fit of the cholick, that they are not expected to live long under such terrible agonies: whereupon the Devil has order’d a thousand chaldron of fresh brimstone to air their apartments against they should come_. CORNELIUS GALLUS _to the Lady_ DILLIANA _at_ BATH. _Charming_ Dilliana, I shall not blush to own I have been in love, since the wisest men that ever were yet, have found their philosophy too weak to prevent the tyranny of the blind boy. However, though they were sensible of the powers of beauty, yet they were all ignorant of its cause. The painter that first drew _Cupid_ with a fillet over his eyes, did not mean that he was blind; but that it was impossible to express their various motions: sometimes eager desire adds new darts to their sparkling rages: sometimes chilling fear in a minute overcasts their glittering beams; joy drowns ’em in an unusual moisture, and irresolution gives ’em a gentle trembling despair, sinks ’em into their orbits: jealousy re-ascends the expiring flame: and one kind look from the person we adore, sweetly sooths ’em up again; and it is easy to remark from their sudden composedness the new calm and tranquillity of the mind. We may say as much of love as of beauty, we all knew there is such a thing, but none of us can tell what it is; ’tis not youth alone that is expos’d to the fatal tempest of this raging passion: age itself has yielded to its attacks; and we have seen some look gaily in their love, tho’ they were stepping into their graves. It laughs at the most ambitious man, and makes a monarch turn vassal to his own subjects: it makes the miser lavish of his ador’d dust and the hoarded ore profusely scatter’d at his charmer’s feet: nay, the poets themselves did not feign _Cupid_ so extravagant, as many philosophers felt him: however, love is the great springhead from whence all our felicities flow; and our condition would be worse than that of the very beasts, if it were exempted from this darling passion: yet it is as true too, that there is nothing upon the earth so enormous and detestable, but love has been the occasion of it at one time or other. That glorious emanation of divinity, the breath of life which gave us the similitude of our Creator, is often stifled by this raging passion, reason revolts, and joining partly with love, proves our ruin, by justifying a thousand absurdities: and there is no misery to which mankind may be said to be subject to, that is not caused by love. There would be no sorrow, no fear, no desire, no despair, no jealousy, no hatred, if there were no love. The soul becomes a restless