love is not a low, ignoble, and unworthy motor, but a noble lord and
chief. Fate is none other than the pre-ordained disposition and order of
casualties to which he is subject by his destiny. The object is the
thing loved and the correlative of the lover. Jealousy, it is clear,
must be the ardour of the lover about the thing loved, of which it boots
not to speak to him who knows what love is, and which it is vain to try
to explain to others. Love delights, because to him who loves it is a
pleasure to love; and he who really loves would not cease from loving.
This is referred to in the following sonnet:

5.

Beloved, sweet, and honourable wound,
From fairest dart that love did choose,
Lofty, most beauteous and potential zeal,
That makes the soul in its own flames find weal!
What power or spell of herb or magic art
Can tear thee from the centre of my heart,
Since he, who with an ever-growing zest,
Tormenting most, yet most does make me blest?
How can I of this weight unburdened be,
If pain the cure, and joy the sore give me?
Sweet is my pain: to this world new and rare.
Eyes! ye are the bow and torches of my lord!
Double the flames and arrows in my breast,
For languishing is sweet and burning best.

Fate vexes and grieves by undesirable and unfortunate events, or because
it makes the subject feel unworthy of the object, and out of proportion
with the dignity of the latter, or because a perfect sympathy does not
exist, or for other reasons and obstacles that arise. The object
satisfies the subject, which is nourished by no other, seeks no other,
is occupied by no other, and banishes every other thought. Jealousy
torments, because although she is the daughter of Love, and is derived
from him, and is his companion who always goes with him, and is a sign
of the same, being understood as a necessary consequence wherever love
is found (as may be observed of whole generations who, from the coldness
of the region and lateness of development, learn little, love less, and
of jealousy know nothing), yet, notwithstanding its kinship,
association, and signification, jealousy comes to trouble and poisons
all that it finds of beautiful and of good in Love. Therefore I said in
another sonnet:

6.

Oh, wicked child of Envy and of Love!
That turnest into pain thy father's joys,
To evil Argus-eyed, but blind as mole to good.
Minister of torment! Jealousy!