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IT is a kind of a wonderful satisfactory Death, and a voluntary Separation of Soul and Body. The Lover’s Mind is in one Place; his Body, in Another; and He himself is No Where, if he be not with the Object of his LOVE: So that (in a manner) it transforms the LOVER into the Object beloved; and all this without any evident Trouble, or if there be any Trouble, still the Trouble is lov’d, with apparent Satisfaction and Delight. As it is ingeniously said, Ubi Amatur, non laboratur; & si laboratur, labor Amatur.

LOVE always springs and blooms with fresh Desires, with young and vigorous Inclinations. It is so riveted in our Natures, that our Blood must first grow cold and be congeal’d by Death, before this FLAME can be extinguish’d: Nay, sometimes it is more fervent, tho’ of shorter Duration, in our latest Hours, than in our Prime. For like as the OIL which feeds a Lamp, when almost spent, the startled Flame begins to rouze itself, and burn afresh, as if it would fain subsist a little longer; tho’ on the very Dregs of its accustomed Fuel, it crackles and flashes with greater Noise and Lustre than before, but presently expires: So does the Amorous Fire, when we are nearest our Dissolution, begin to trouble us most, and makes our Soul to blaze with greater Fevers of Desire and Grief, knowing its Period to be near at hand.