such an affair is really aggravated by conducting it in the house and presence of the injured person, or whether the good taste which dictates a more remote scene of operations is not indeed a sham. It may be safely assumed that to Donne the question never occurred. Capable at any time of almost fierce absorption in a subject, in love he would be heedless of every consideration. Unquestionably at first he enjoyed himself, delighting in the secret assignations, the language of flowers and signs. We can imagine the three at table, the invalid husband, Donne, and the lady; Donne pouring out with secret delight brilliant conversation of which every other sentence contained an ingenious double meaning. It is amusing to imagine the affected language of this conversation with the lady. At first it appears she was something unfashionable of speech, or not too intelligent. Donne taught her to euphuize. She discovered an unsuspected aptitude for intrigue, and evidently showed signs at one time of extending the scope of her operations, for we find Donne in a violently jealous mood.

ELEGIE VII: NATURES LAY IDEOT
Natures lay Ideot, I taught thee to love,
And in that sophistrie, Oh, thou dost prove
Too subtile: Foole, thou didst not understand
The mystique language of the eye nor hand:
Nor couldst thou judge the difference of the aire
Of sighes, and say, this lies, this sounds despaire:

Nor by the eyes water call a maladie
Desperately hot, or changing feaverously.
I had not taught thee then, the Alphabet
Of flowers, how they devisefully being set
And bound up, might with speechlesse secrecie
Deliver arrands mutely, and mutually.
Remember since all thy words us'd to bee
To every suitor; I, if my friends agree;

Since, household charmes, thy husbands name to teach,

Were all the love trickes, that thy wit could

reach;

And since, an houres discourse could scarce have

made

One answer in thee, and that ill arraid
In broken proverbs, and torne sentences.
Thou art not by so many duties his,

That from the worlds Common having sever'd thee,

Inlaid thee, neither to be seene, nor see,
As mine: who have with amorous delicacies
Refin'd thee into a blis-ful Paradise.

Thy graces and good words my creatures bee;
I planted knowledge and lifes tree in thee,
Which Oh, shall strangers taste? Must I alas
Frame and enamell Plate, and drinke in Glasse ?
Chafe waxe for others seales ? breake a colts

force

And leave him then, beeing made a ready horse?

Evidently Donne took a keen pleasure in practising the elaborate art of love affected at that time. The next quotation-from "Elegie I: Jealosie "-shows the ugly side of the affair, and Donne's strange indifference to it.

Fond woman, which would'st have thy husband
die,

And yet complain'st of his great jealousie;
If swolne with poyson, hee lay in his last bed,
His body with a sere-barke covered,

Thou would'st not weepé, but jolly, and frolicke

bee,

As a slave, which to morrow should be free;
Yet weep'st thou, when thou seest him hungerly
Swallow his owne death, hearts-bane jealousie.
O give him many thanks, he is courteous,
That in suspecting kindly warneth us.
Wee must not, as wee us'd, flout openly,
In scoffing ridles, his deformitie;
Nor at his boord together being satt,

With words, nor touch, scarce lookes adulterate.
Nor when he swolne, and pamper'd with great fare,
Sits downe, and snorts, cag'd in his basket chaire,
Must wee usurpe his owne bed any more,
Nor kisse and play in his house, as before.
Now I see many dangers; for that is
His realme, his castle, and his diocesse.
But if, as envious men, which would revile
Their Prince, or coyne his gold, themselves exile
Into another countrie, and doe it there,

Wee play in another house, what should we feare ?
There we will scorne his houshold policies,

His seely plots, and pensionary spies,

As the inhabitants of Thames right side

Do Londons Major; or Germans, the Popes pride.

It is clear that now the love-making has been in progress for a long time, and that the husband's suspicions are aroused. Also it would appear

that Donne is no longer in the earliest stage of adoration.

It is probable that this poem brings us to the beginning of the year 1596, during which Donne went with the expedition to Cadiz, which will be discussed later. In 1597 he went with Essex to the Azores, and in a verse letter to a friend1 suggests that one of the reasons for his going on the expedition was

to disuse mee from the queasie paine Of being belov'd, and loving.

Is it not likely, therefore, that he kept his resolution to be discreet by volunteering for foreign service? Certainly before he went he sent the lady his picture, accompanying it by a poem in which the most is made of the destructive possibilities of campaigning.

ELEGIE V: HIS PICTURE

Here take my Picture; though I bid farewell, Thine, in my heart, where my soule dwels, shall dwell.

'Tis like me now, but I dead, 'twill be more
When wee are shadowes both, then 'twas before.
When weather-beaten I come backe; my hand,
Perhaps with rude oares torne, or Sun beams
tann'd,

My face and brest of hairecloth, and my head
With cares rash sodaine stormes, being o'rspread,
My body a sack of bones, broken within,

And powders blew staines scatter'd on my skinne;

1 See pages 66-67.

If rivall fooles taxe thee to have lov'd a man,
So foule, and course, as, Oh, I may seeme than,
This shall say what I was: and thou shalt say,
Doe his hurts reach mee ? doth my worth decay?
Or doe they reach his judging minde, that hee
Should now love lesse, what hee did love to see?
That which in him was faire and delicate,
Was but the milke, which in loves childish state
Did nurse it : who now is growne strong enough
To feed on that, which to disused tasts seemes
tough.

The chances are that during Donne's absence in 1596 and 1597 the liaison died a natural death. Possibly both parties had recovered to some extent from their infatuation; perhaps the lady had developed wisdom; certainly, after his return, Donne, who was taking up a responsible position, had reasons for wishing to end so compromising an affair. At any rate such a decision was taken. In "Elegie XII: His Parting from Her" we see that some real affection had underlain Donne's arrogant love-making. He begins:

Since she must go, and I must mourn, come
Night,

Environ me with darkness, whilst I write :
Shadow that hell unto me, which alone

I am to suffer when my Love is gone.

Later, in apostrophizing Love, he continues:

Was't not enough that thou didst dart thy fires
Into our blouds, inflaming our desires,