Love's Beginnings.

It is a poor saying of Epicurus, "Each is to the other a theatre large enough: as if man, made for the contemplation of heaven and all noble objects, should do nothing but kneel before a little idol, and make himself a subject, though not of the mouth (as beasts are), yet of the eye; which was given him for higher purposes.

SIR FRANCIS BACON, Essay of Love.

O love, in every battle victor owned;

Now on a maiden's soft and blooming cheek,

In secret ambush hid.

SOPHOCLES, Antigone, 1. 782.

Love, too, at sight, the possibility of which has been disputed by men of drowthy hearts and torpid imaginations, can arise only from the meeting of those spirits which, before they meet, have beheld each other in inward vision, and are yearning to have that vision realized.

Guesses at Truth.

F

If ever,

as that ever may be near,

You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, Then shall you know the wounds invisible

That love's keen arrows make.

As You Like It, Act iii. Sc. 5, 1. 28.

Think not I love him, though I ask for him;

'Tis but a peevish boy; yet he talks well:
But what care I for words? yet words do well

LOVE'S BEGINNINGS.

When he that speaks them pleases those that hear.
It is a pretty youth: not very pretty :

But, sure, he 's proud, but yet his pride becomes him :
He'll make a proper man: the best thing in him

Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue

Did make offence his eye did heal it up.

He is not very tall; yet for his years he's tall :
His leg is but so so; and yet 'tis well :

There was a pretty redness in his lip,

A little riper and more lusty red

Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference
Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask.
There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him ·
In parcels as I did, would have gone near
To fall in love with him; but, for my part,

I love him not nor hate him not; and yet

I have more cause to hate him than to love him:

For what had he to do to chide at me?

He said mine eyes were black and my hair black;
And, now I am remember'd, scorned at me :

I marvel why I answer'd not again:

But that's all one; omittance is no quittance.
I'll write to him a very taunting letter,

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And thou shalt bear it: wilt thou, Silvius?

Duke. Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty: Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,

Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;

The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;

But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems
That nature pranks her in attracts my soul.

There is no woman's sides

Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart
So big, to hold so much.

Duke. What dost thou know?

Vio. Too well what love women to men may owe:

In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
My father had a daughter loved a man,
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship.

Duke.

And what's her history?

Vio. A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,

Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought,
And with a green and yellow melancholy

She sat like patience on a monument,

Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
We men may say more, swear more: but indeed
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

Twelfth Night, Act ii. Sc. 4, 1. 83.

LOVE'S BEGINNINGS.

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Lysander. How now, my love! why is your cheek so

pale?

How chance the roses there do fade so fast?

Hermia. Belike for want of rain, which I could well

Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes.

Lys. Ay me! for aught that I could ever read,

Could ever hear by tale or history,

The course of true love never did run smooth;
But, either it was different in blood,

Or else misgraffed in respect of years,

Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,

Or if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
Making it momentany as a sound,

Swift as a shadow, short as any dream ;

Brief as the lightning in the collied night,

That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And e'er a man hath power to say 'Behold!'
The jaws of darkness do devour it up :

So quick bright things come to confusion.

Her. If then true lovers have been ever cross'd,

It stands as an edict in destiny:

Then let us teach our trial patience,

Because it is a customary cross,

As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs,

Wishes and tears, poor fancy's followers.

A Midsummer-Night's Dream, Act i. Sc. 1, l. 128.

Miranda.

You look wearily.

Ferdinand. No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with

me

When you are by at night. I do beseech you

Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers-
What is your name?

Indeed the top of admiration! worth
What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady
I have eyed with best regard, and many a time
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues
Have I liked several women; never any

With so full soul, but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed.
And put it to the foil: but you, O you,
So perfect and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best !

I do not know

Mir.
One of my sex; no woman's face remember,
Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen
More that I may call men than you, good friend,
And my dear father: how features are abroad,
I am skilless of; but, by my modesty,
The jewel in my dower, I would not wish
Any companion in the world but you,