The Dream of Poliphilus

BOOK ONE
A

A decorative woodcut headpiece featuring symmetrical acanthus leaf scrollwork and floral designs, with two bird-like creatures at the far left and right ends.

Of the sleep that took Poliphilo, and how

Agrypnia is the wakefulness caused by illness or fantasy.

Large decorative historiated initial 'P' featuring intricate leaf and vine scrollwork within a square frame.
ON an April morning around the break of day, I, Poliphilo His name translates from Greek as "Lover of Many Things" or "Lover of Polia", was in my bed, with no other company than my loyal guardian Agrypnia, who had kept me through the whole night in various conversations and taken pains to comfort me: for I had declared to her the cause of my sighs. At last, as the only remedy, she advised me to forget all these troubles and cease my grieving: then, knowing that it was the hour when I ought to rest, she took her leave and left me alone. Therefore, I remained fantasizing, consuming the rest of the night in thinking to myself. If love is never equal, how is it possible to love that which does not love? And in what manner can a poor, doubtful soul resist, being struck by so many assaults? Especially considering that the war is internal, and the enemies are familiar and domestic, along with being continually occupied by very fickle opinions. After this, there came to my memory the miserable condition of lovers, who, to please others, desire to die sweetly; and to satisfy themselves, are content to live in discomfort, not sating their famished desire except with vain, dangerous, and painful imaginations. I worked so much at this discourse that my spirits, weary of this frivolous thinking—fed by a false and feigned pleasure, and by the divine object of my lady Polia (whose image is engraved in the depths of my heart)—sought from then on nothing but natural rest, so as not to remain any longer between such a hard life and so sweet a death: whereby I found myself all seized by sleep and fell asleep. O Jupiter, sovereign God, shall I call this vision happy, marvelous, or terrible, which is such that in me there is no part so small that it does not tremble and burn when thinking of it? It seemed to me (certainly) that I was in a spacious plain, sown with flowers and greenery: the weather was serene and temperate, the sun bright, and softened by a gracious wind: therefore everything there was marvelously peaceful and in silence, which seized me with a fearful admiration In the 16th century, "admiration" meant a sense of wonder or astonishment: for I perceived no sign of human habitation there, nor even a haunt of beasts: which made me hasten my steps, looking here and there. However, I could see nothing but leaves and branches that did not move at all.