“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, / And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind,” Shakespeare wrote in 1601. A year later, in Rome, the banker Marchese Vincenzo Giustiniani asked Caravaggio for his own Cupid. What he received wasn’t a blind deity or a cherubic infant but a life-size, sharp-edged adolescent—half lounging, half challenging the viewer, his torso twisting into something like a dare. The dark eagle wings, borrowed from Orazio Gentileschi’s studio, were props. Around him, Caravaggio placed emblems of earthly ambition: musical instruments for the arts, armor for war, a globe for learning, a quill and manuscript for fame. The painting, Amor Vincit Omnia, is on view for the first time in the U.K., reunited with two Roman sculptures that belonged to the same collection four centuries ago. —Elena Clavarino