A1r A1v
Licensed,
1686-08-02Aug. 2,
1686
R.L.S.
A2r

La
Montre

or the
Lover’s Watch.

By Mrs. A. Behn.

London
Printed by R.H. for W. Canning,
at his Shop in Vine-Court,
Middle-Temple.
16861686.

A2v A3r

To
Peter Weston, Esq;
of the
Honourable Society
of the
Inner-Temple.

Sir,

When I had ended this little
unlaboured Piece, the
Watch, I resolv’d to dedicate it to
some One, whom I cou’d fancy, the
nearest approacht the charming Damon.A3mon. A3v
Many fine Gentlemen I had
in view, of Wit and Beauty; but
still, through their Education, or a
natural Propensity to Debauchery, I
found those Vertues wanting, that
shou’d compleat that delicate Character,
Iris gives her Lover; and
which, at first Thought of You, I
found center’d there to Perfection.

Yes Sir, I found You had all the
Youth of Damon; without the forward
noisy Confidence; which usually
attends your Sex. You have all the
attracting Beauty of my young Hero;
all that can charm the Fair;
without the Affectation of those,
that set out for Conquests (though
You make a Thousand, without knowing
it, or the Vanity of believing
it.) You have our Damon’s Wit, with A4r
with all his agreeable Modesty:
Two Vertues that rarely shine together:
And the last makes You conceal
the noble Sallies of the first, with
that Industry and Care, You wou’d
an Amour: And You wou’d no more
boast of either of these, than of your
undoubted Bravery.

You are (like our Lover too) so
discreet, that the bashful Maid may,
without Fear or Blushing, venture
the soft Confeßion of her Soul with
You; reposing the dear Secret in
Yours, with more Safety, than with
her own Thoughts. You have all
the Sweetness of Youth, with the Sobriety
and Prudence of Age. You
have all the Power of the gay Vices
of Man; but the Angel in your
Mind, has subdu’d you to the VertuesA4tues A4v
of a God! And all the vicious,
and industrious Examples of the roving
Wits of the mad Town, have
only serv’d to give You the greater
Abhorrence to Lewdness. And You
look down with Contempt and Pity
on that wretched unthinking Number,
who pride themselves in their
mean Victories over little Hearts;
and boast their common Prizes with
that Vanity, that declares ’em capable
of no higher Joy, than that of
the Ruin of some credulous Unfortunate:
And no Glory like that, of
the Discovery of the brave Atchievment,
over the next Bottle, to the
Fool that shall applaud ’em.

How does the Generosity, and
Sweetness of your Disposition despise
these false Entertainments, that A5r
that turns the noble Paßion of Love
into Ridicule, and Man into Brute.

Methinks I cou’d form another
Watch (that shou’d remain a Patern
to succeeding Ages) how divinely
you pass your more sacred Hours,
how nobly and usefully you divide
your Time; in which, no precious
Minute is lost, not one glides idly
by; but all turns to wondrous Account.
And all Your Life is one
continu’d Course of Vertue and Honour.
Happy the Parents, that
have the Glory to own You! Happy
the Man, that has the Honour
of your Friendship! But, Oh! How
much more happy the fair She, for
whom you shall sigh! Which surely,
can never be in vain. There
will be such a Purity in Your Flame: All A5v
All You ask, will be so chaste and
noble, and utter’d with a Voice so
modest, and a Look so charming,
as must, by a gentle Force, compel
that Heart to yield, that knows the
true Value of Wit, Beauty, and
Vertue.

Since then, in all the Excellencies
of Mind and Body (where no
one Grace is wanting) you so resemble
the All-perfect Damon, suffer
me to dedicate this Watch to
You. It brings You nothing but
Rules for Love; delicate as Your
Thoughts, and innocent as Your Conversation.
And possibly, ’tis the
only Vertue of the Mind, You are
not perfectly Master of; the only
noble Mystery of the Soul, You have
not yet studied. And though they are A6r
are Rules for every Hour, You will
find, they will neither rob Heaven,
nor Your Friends of their Due; those
so valuable Devoirs of Your Life:
They will teach You Love; but
Love, so pure, and so devout, that
You may mix it, even with Your
Religion; and I know, Your fine
Mind can admit of no other. When
ever the God enters there (fond and
wanton as he is, full of Arts and
Guiles) he will be reduc’d to that
Native Innocency, that made him so
ador’d, before inconstant Man corrupted
his Divinity, and made him
wild and wandring. How happy
will Iris’s Watch be, to inspire such
a Heart! How honour’d under the
Patronage of so excellent a Man!
Whose Wit will credit, whose Good- A6v
Goodness will defend it; and whose
noble and vertuous Qualities so justly
merit the Character, Iris has given
Damon: And which is believed so
very much your Due, by

Sir,

Your most Obliged, and
Most Humble Servant,
A. Behn.

To A7r

To the Admir’d Astrea.

I never mourn’d my Want of Wit, ’till now;

That where I do so much Devotion vow,

Brightest Astrea, to your honour’d Name,

Find my Endeavour will become my Shame.

’Tis you alone, who have the Art, and Wit

T’involve those Praises in the Lines y’have writ,

That we should give you, could we have the Sp’rite,

Vigour, and Force, wherewith your self do write.

Too mean are all th’Applauses we can give:

You in your self, and by your self, shall live;

When all we write will only serve to shew,

How much, in vain Attempt, we flag below.

Some Hands write some things well; are elsewhere
lame:

But on all Theams, your Power is the same.

Of Buskin, and of Sock, you know the Pace;

And tread in both, with equal Skill and Grace.

But when you write of Love, Astrea, then

Love dips his Arrows, where you wet your Pen.

Such charming Lines did never Paper grace;

Soft, as your Sex; and smooth, as Beauty’s Face.

And ’tis your Province, that belongs to you:

Men are so rude, they fright when they wou’d sue.

You teach us gentler Methods; such as are

The fit and due Proceedings with the Fair.

But why should you, who can so well create,

So stoop, as but pretend, you do translate?

Could you, who have such a luxuriant Vein,

As nought but your own Judgment could restrain;

Who A7v

Who are, your self, of Poesie the Soul,

And whose brave Fancy knocks at either Pole;

Descend so low, as poor Translation

To make an Author, that before was none?

Oh! Give us, henceforth, what is all your own!

Yet we can trace you here, in e’ery Line;

The Texture’s good, but some Threds are too fine:

We see where you let in your Silver Springs;

And know the Plumes, with which you imp his
Wings.

But I’m too bold to question what you do,

And yet it is my Zeal that makes me so.

Which, in a Lover, you’l not disapprove:

I am too dull to write, but I can love.

Charles Cotton.

To A8r

To the Incomparable Author.

While this poor Homage of our Verse we give,

We own, at least, your just Prerogative:

And tho’ the Tribute’s needless, which we pay;

It serves to shew, you reign, and we obey.

Which, adding nothing to your perfect Store,

Yet makes your polisht Numbers shine the more:

As Gems in Foils, are with Advantage shown;

No Lustre take from them, but more exert their own.

Male Wits, from Authors of a former Date,

Copy Applause; and but at best, translate:

While you, like the immortal Pow’rs, Create.

Horace and Pindar (tho’ attempted long

In vain) at last, have learnt the British Tongue;

Not so the Grecian Female Poet’s Song.

The Pride of Greece we now out-rival’d see:

Greece boasts one Sappho; two Orinda’s we.

But what unheard Applause shall we impart

To this most new, and happy piece of Art?

That renders our Apollo more sublime

In num’rous Prose, but yet more num’rous Rhime;

And makes the God of Love, the God of Time.

Love’s wandring Planet, you have made a Star:

’Twas bright before, but now ’tis Regular.

While Love shall last, this Engine needs must vend:

Each Nymph, this Watch shall to her Lover send,

That points him out his Hours, and how those
Hours to spend.

N. Tate

A8v

To the most Ingenious Astrea, upon her
Book intituled, La Môntre, or the
Lover’s Watch
.

To celebrate your Praise, no Muse can crown

You with that Glory, as this Piece hath done.

This Lover’s Watch, tho’ it was made in France,

By the fam’d Bonnecorse; yet you advance

The Value of its curious Work so far,

That as it shin’d there like a glitt’ring Star,

Yet here a Constellation it appears;

And in Love’s Orb, with more Applause, it wears

Astrea’s Name. Your Prose so delicate,

Your Verse so smooth and sweet, that they create

A lovely Wonder in each Lover’s Mind:

The envious Critick dares not be unkind.

La Môntre cannot err, ’tis set so well:

The Rules for Lovers Hours are like a Spell

To charm a Mistress with: The God of Love

Is highly pleas’d; and smiling, does approve

Of this rare Master-piece: His Am’rous Game

Will more improve: This will support his Fame.

May your luxuriant Fancy ever flow

Like a Spring-tide; no Bounds, or Limits know.

May you, in Story, for your Wit, live high:

And summon’d hence, to blest Eternity,

Aged with Nestor’s Years, resign to Fate;

May your fam’d Works receive an endless Date.

Rich. Færrar.

To χ1r

To the Divine Astrea, on her
Môntre.

Thou Wonder of thy Sex! Thou greatest Good!

The Ages Glory, if but understood.

How are the Britains bound to bless the Name

Of great Astrea! Whose Eternal Fame,

To Foreign Clymes, is most deserv’dly spread;

Where Thou, in thy great Works, shalt live, tho’ dead.

And mighty France, with Envy shall look on,

To see her greatest Wit by thee out-done:

And all their boasted Trophies are in vain,

Whilst thou, spight of their Salick Law, shalt reign.

Witness La Môntre, from their Rubbish rais’d:

A Piece, for which, thou shalt be ever prais’d.

The beauteous Work is with such Order laid,

And all the Movement so divinely made,

As cannot of dull Criticks be afraid.

Such Nature in the Truths of Love thou’st shewd,

As the All-loving Ovid never cou’d.

Thy Rules so soft, so modest, and so right,

The list’ning Youths will follow with Delight:

To thy blest Name with all their Homage pay,

Who taught ’em how to love the noblest Way.

G.J.

To χ1v

To his admired Friend, the most ingenious
Author.

Once more my Muse is blest; her humble Voice

Does in thy wondrous Works, once more, rejoyce.

Not the bright Mount, where e’ery sacred Tongue,

In skilful Choirs, immortal Numbers sung.

Not great Apollo’s own inspiring Beams,

Nor sweet Castalia’s consecrated Streams,

To thy learn’d Sisters could so charming be,

As are thy Songs, and thou thy self, to me.

Æthereal Air, soft Springs, and verdant Fields;

Cool Shades, and Sunny Banks, thy Presence yields.

Never were Soul and Body better joyn’d:

A Mansion, worthy so divine a Mind!

No wonder e’ery Swain adores thy Name,

And e’ery Tongue proclaims thy Deathless Fame:

For who can such resistless Power controul,

Where Wit and Beauty both invade the Soul?

Beauty, that still does her fresh Conquests find;

And Sacred Wit, that ever charms the Mind:

Through all its Forms, that lovely Proteus chase;

And e’ery Shape has its peculiar Grace.

Hail, Thou Heav’n-born! Thou most transcendent
Good!

If Mortals their chief Blessings understood!

Thou that, while Kingdoms, Thrones, and Pow’rs
decay,

Hast, with Eternity, once constant Stay:

Liv’st, and will live, like the great God of Love;

For ever young, although as old as Jove.

While we, alas! in dark Oblivion lye,

Thou ne’er wilt let thy lov’d Astrea dye.

No, χ2r

No, my good Friend, Thy Works will mount the
Skies,

And see their Author’s learned Ashes rise.

Much to the Fame of thy fair Sex of Old,

By skilful Writers, has been greatly told:

But all the boasted Titles they have gain’d

By others Labours, weakly are sustain’d;

While thou look’st down, and scorn’st so mean a
Praise:

Thy own just Hands do thy own Trophies raise.

Rich is the Soil, and vast thy Native Store;

Yet thou (Wit’s Great Columbus seek’st out more.

Through distant Regions spread’st thy Towring
Wings,

And Foreign Treasure to thy Country brings.

This Work let no Censorious Tongue despise,

And judge thee wealthy with unlawful Prize.

We owe to thee, our best Refiner, more

Than him, who first dig’d up the rugged Ore.

Tho’ this vast Frame were from a Chaos rais’d,

The great Creator should not less be prais’d:

By its bright Form, his Pow’r’s as much display’d,

As if the World had been from Nothing made.

And if we may compare great Things with Small,

Thou therefore canst not by just Censure fall;

While the rude Heap, which lay before unform’d,

To Life and Sense, is by thy Spirit warm’d.

Geo. Jenkins.

La χ2v

An engraving of a 24-hour watch, with Cupid at the center pointing to the hours. The twenty-four hours of the watch correspond to the twenty-four chapters that make up the first large section of La Montre. Above the watch is printed “Hours of the Day”, and below is printed “Hours of the Night”. On the face of the watch, radiating out from the center, are printed the chapter titles, each next to its corresponding hour. Between each chapter title, at each half-hour, is printed “Sigh”. Cupid points at 8 o’clock in the morning: the first chapter.

  • 8 Agreeable waking
    Sigh
  • 9 Design to pleas no body
    Sigh
  • 10 Reading of Letters
    Sigh
  • 11 The hour to write in
    Sigh
  • 12 Indispensible dutyes
    Sigh
  • 1 Forc’d entertainment
    Sigh
  • 2 Dinner
    Sigh
  • 3 Visits to Friends
    Sigh
  • 4 General Conversation
    Sigh
  • 5 Visits dangerous
    Sigh
  • 6 Walke without design
    Sigh
  • 7 Voluntary retreat
    Sigh
  • 8 Pressing inquiries
    Sigh
  • 9 Chagrin
    Sigh
  • 10 Reflections
    Sigh
  • 11 Supper time
    Sigh
  • 12 Complaisance
    Sigh
  • 1 Impossible to Sleep
    Sigh
  • 2 Conversation in dreams
    Sigh
  • 3 Capricious suffering in dreāams
    Sigh
  • 4 Iealousie in dreams
    Sigh
  • 5 Falling out in dreams
    Sigh
  • 6 Recommendation in dreams
    Sigh
  • 7 Divers dreams
    Sigh
Hours of the Day
Hours of the Night

B1r 1

La MonstreMontre.

The Argument.

’Tis in the most Happy and
August Court of the best
and greatest Monarch of
the World, that Damon,
a young Noble-man, whom we will
render under that Name, languishes
for a Maid of Quality, who will give
us leave to call her Iris.

Their Births are equally Illustrious:
They are both Rich, and both
Young: Their Beauty such, as I dare
not too nicely particularize, lest I
should discover (which I am not
permitted to do) who these charming
Lovers are. Let it suffice, that
BIris B1v 2
Iris is the most fair and accomplisht
Person that ever adorn’d a Court;
and that Damon is only worthy of
the Glory of her Favour; for he has
all that can render him Lovely, in
the fair Eyes of the Amiable Iris.
Nor is he Master of those Superficial
Beauties alone, that please at first
Sight: He can charm the Soul with
a thousand Arts of Wit and Gallantry.
And, in a word, I may say,
without flattering either, that there
is no one Beauty, no one Grace, no
Perfection of Mind and Body, that
wants to compleat a Victory on both
sides.

The Agreement of Age, Fortunes,
Quality and Humours in the two fair
Lovers, made the impatient Damon
hope, that nothing would oppose his
Passion; and if he saw himself every
Hour, languishing for the Adorable
Maid, he did not however despair:
And if Iris sigh’d, it was not for fear
of being one day more happy.

In the midst of the Tranquility of
these two Lovers, Iris was obliged to B2r 3
to go into the Country for some
Months, whither ’twas impossible for
Damon to wait on her, he being oblig’d
to attend the King, his Master;
and being the most Amorous of his
Sex, suffer’d with extream Impatience
the Absence of his Mistress. Nevertheless,
he fail’d not to send to her
every day, and gave up all his melancholy
Hours to Thinking, Sighing,
and Writing to her the softest Letters
that Love could inspire. So that Iris
even blessed that Absence, that gave
her so tender and convincing Proofs
of his Passion; and found this dear
way of Conversing, even recompenced
all her Sighs for his Absence.

After a little Intercourse of this
kind, Damon bethought himself to
ask Iris a Discretion, which he had
won of her, before she left the Town;
and in a Billet-doux to that purpose,
prest her very earnestly for it. Iris
being infinitely pleas’d with his Importunity,
suffer’d him to ask it often;
and he never fail’d of doing so.

B2 But B2v 4

But as I do not here design to relate
the Adventures of these two Amiable
Persons, nor give you all the
Billet-douxes that past between them:
You shall here find nothing but the
Watch, this charming Maid sent her
impatient Lover.

Iris B3r 5

Iris to Damon.

It must be confest, Damon, that
you are the most importuning
Man in the World. Your Billets
have an hundred times demanded a
Discretion, which you won of me;
and tell me, you will not wait my
Return, to be paid. You are either
a very faithless Creditor, or believe
me very unjust, that you dun
with such Impatience. But, to let
you see I am a Maid of Honour, and
value my Word, I will acquit my self
of this Obligation I have to you, and
send you a Watch of my fashion;
perhaps you never saw any so good.
It is not one of those, that have always
something to be mended in it;
but one that is without Fault, very
just and good, and will remain so, as B3long B3v 6
long as you continue to love me. But
Damon, know, that the very Minute
you cease to do so, the String will
break, and it will go no more. ’Tis
only useful in my Absence, and when
I return, ’twill change its Motion:
And though I have set it but for the
Spring-time, ’twill serve you the
whole Year round; and ’twill be necessary
only, that you alter the business
of the Hours (which my Cupid,
in the middle of my Watch, points
you out) according to the length of
the Days and Nights. Nor is the Dart
of that little God directed to those
Hours, so much to inform you how
they pass, as how you ought to pass
them, how you ought to employ
those of your Absence from Iris. ’Tis
there you shall find the whole Business
of a Lover, from his Mistress;
for I have design’d it a Rule to all
your Actions. The Consideration of
the Work-man, ought to make you set
a Value upon the Work: And though
it be not an accomplisht, and perfect
Piece; yet Damon, you ought to B4r 7
to be grateful, and esteem it, since I
have made it for you alone. But
however I may boast of the Design, I
know, as well as I believe, you love
me; that you will not suffer me to
have the Glory of it wholly, but will
say in your heart,

That Love, the great Instructor of the
Mind,

That forms anew, and fashions every
Soul,

Refines the gross Defects of Humane
kind;

Humbles the Proud and Vain, inspires
the Dull:

Gives Cowards noble Heat in Fight,

And teaches feeble Woman how to write:

That doth the Universe command;

Does from my Iris Heart direct her
Hand.

B4 I give B4v 8

I give you the liberty to say this to
your Heart, if you please: And that
you may know, with what Justice you
do so, I will confess in my turn,

The Confession.

That Love’s my Conduct where I go,

And Love instructs me all I do.

Prudence no longer is my Guide,

Nor take I Counsel of my Pride.

In vain does Honour now invade,

In vain does Reason take my part;

If against Love it do perswade,

If it rebel against my heart.

If the soft Ev’ning do invite,

And I incline to take the Air,

The Birds, the Spring, the Flowers no
more delight;

’Tis B5r 9

’Tis Love makes all the Pleasure there;

Love, which about me still I bear.

I’m charm’d with what I thither bring,

And add a Softness to the Spring.

If for Devotion I design,

Love meets me, even at the Shrine:

In all my Worships, claims a part;

And robs even Heaven of my Heart.

All day does counsel and controul,

And all the night, employs my Soul.

No wonder then, if all you think be
true,

That Love’s concern’d in all I do for
you.

And Damon, you know, that Love
is no ill Master; and I must say, with
a Blush, that he has found me no unapt B5v 10
unapt Scholar; and he instructs too
agreeably, not to succeed in all he
undertakes.

Who can resist his soft Commands?

When he resolves, What God withstands?

But I ought to explain to you my
Watch.

The naked Love which you will
find in the middle of it, with his
Wings clip’d, to shew you, he is fix’d
and constant, and will not fly away,
points you out, with his Arrow, the
four and twenty Hours, that compose
the Day and the Night: Over every
Hour, you will find written, what
you ought to do, during its Course;
and every Half-hour is marked with a
Sigh, since the quality of a Lover is,
to sigh day and night: Sighs are the
Children of Lovers, that are born
every hour. And that my Watch may
always be just Love himself ought to
conduct it; and your Heart should
keep Time with the Movement.

My B6r 11

My Present’s delicate, and new,

If by your Heart the Motion’s set;

According as that’s false, or true,

You’l find, my Watch will answer it.

Every hour is tedious to a Lover,
separated from his Mistress; and, to
shew you how good I am, I will have
my Watch instruct you, to pass some
of them without Inquietude; that the
force of your Imagination, may sometimes
charm the Trouble you have
for my absence.

Perhaps I am mistaken here,

My Heart may too much Credit give;

But Damon, you can charm my Fear,

And soon my Error undeceive.

But I will not disturb my Repose
at this time, with a Jealousie, which, I hope B6v 12
I hope, is altogether frivolous and
vain; but begin to instruct you in the
Mysteries of my Watch. Cast then
your Eyes upon the Eighth Hour in
the Morning, which is the Hour I
would have you begin to wake: You
will find there written,

8 A-Clock.

Agreeable Reverie.

Do not rise yet; you may find
Thoughts agreeable enough,
when you awake, to entertain you
longer in Bed. And ’tis in that hour
you ought to recollect all the Dreams
you have had in the Night. If you
have dream’d any thing to my Advantage,
confirm your self in that
thought; but if to my Disadvantage,
renounce it, and dis-own the injurious
Dream. ’Tis in this Hour also,
that I give you leave to reflect on all
that I have ever said and done, that has B7r 13
has been most obliging to you, and
that gives you the most tender Sentiments.

The Reflection.

Remember Damon, while your Mind

Reflects on things that charm and
please,

You give me Proofs that you are kind,

And set my doubting Soul at ease:

For when your Heart receives with Joy

The thoughts of Favours which I give,

My Smiles in vain I not employ,

And on the Square we love and live.

Think then on all I ever did,

That e’er was charming, e’re was dear.

Let nothing from that Soul be hid,

Whose Griefs and Joys I feel and
share.

All B7v 14

All that your Love and Faith have
sought,

All that your Vows and Sighs have
bought,

Now render present to your Thought.

And for what’s to come, I give you
leave, Damon, to flatter your self, and
to expect, I shall still pursue those Methods,
whose remembrance charms so
well: But, if it be possible, conceive
these kind Thoughts between Sleeping
and Waking, that all my too forward
Complaisance, my Goodness,
and my Tenderness, which I confess
to have for you, may pass for Half-
Dreams; for ’tis most certain,

That, though the Favours of the Fair

Are ever to the Lover dear;

Yet, lest he should reproach that easie
Flame,

That buys its Satisfaction with its
Shame,

She B8r 15

She ought but rarely to confess,

How much she finds of Tenderness;

Nicely to guard the yielding part,

And hide the hard-kept Secret in her
Heart.

For, let me tell you, Damon, though
the Passion of a Woman of Honour
be never so innocent, and the Lover
never so discreet and honest; her
Heart feels I know not what of Reproach
within, at the Reflection of
any Favours she has allow’d him.
For my part, I never call to mind the
least soft, or kind Word I have spoken
to Damon, without finding, at the
same Instant, my Face cover’d over
with Blushes, and my Heart with sensible
Pain. I sigh at the Remembrance
of every Touch I have stol’n from
his Hand, and have upbraided my
Soul, which confesses so much guilty
Love, as that secret desire of Touching
him made appear. I am angry at the B8v 16
the Discovery, though I am pleas’d at
the same time, with the Satisfaction I
take in doing so; and ever disorder’d
at the remembrance of such Arguments
of too much Love. And these
unquiet Sentiments alone, are sufficient
to perswade me, that our Sex
cannot be reserv’d too much. And
I have often, on these occasions, said
to my self,

The Reserve.

Though Damon every Vertue have,

With all that pleases in his Form,

That can adorn the Just and Brave,

That can the coldest Bosom warm;

Though Wit and Honour there abound;

Yet the Pursuer’s ne’er pursu’d,

And when my Weakness he has found,

His Love will sink to Gratitude:

While C1r 17

While on the Asking Part he lives,

’Tis she th’Obliger is, who gives.

And he that, at one throw, the Stake
has won,

Gives over Play, since all the Stock is
gone.

And what dull Gamester ventures certain
Store

With Losers, who can set no more.

9 A-Clock.

Design to please no body.

I should continue to accuse you of
that Vice I have often done, that
of Laziness, if you remain’d past this
Hour in Bed; ’tis time for you to
rise; my Watch tells you ’tis Nine a-
Clock. Remember that I am absent, C there- C1v 18
therefore do not take too much pains
in dressing your self, and setting your
Person off.

The Question.

Tell me! What can he design,

Who in his Mistress absence will be fine?

Why does he cock, and comb, and dress,?

Why is the Cravat-string in print?

What does th’Embroyder’d Coat confess?

Why to the Glass this long Address,

If there be nothing in’t?

If no new Conquest is design’d,

If no new Beauty fill his Mind?

Let Fools and Fops, whose Talents lie

In being neat, in being spruce,

Be C2r 19

Be drest, be vain, and tawdery;

With Men of Sense, ’tis out of use:

The only Folly that Distinction sets

Between the noisy flutt’ring Fools and
Wits.

Remember, Iris is away;

And sighing, to your Valet cry,

“Spare your Perfumes and Care, to day

I have no business to be gay,

Since Iris is not by.

I’ll be all negligent in Dress,

And scarce set off for Complaisance.

Put me on nothing that may please,

But only such as may give no Offence.”

Say to your self, as you are dressing,
“Would it please Heaven, that C2“I C2v 20
I might see Iris to day! But Oh!
’tis impossible: Therefore all that
I shall see, will be but indifferent
Objects, since ’tis Iris only that I
wish to see.”
And sighing, whisper
to your self,

The Sigh.

Ah! Charming Object of my wishing
Thought!

Ah! Soft Idea of a distant Bliss!

That only art in Dreams and Fancy
brought,

To give short Intervals of Happiness.

But when I waking, find thou absent art;

And with thee, all that I adore,

What Pains, what Anguish fills my
Heart!

What Sadness seizes me all o’er!

All C3r 21

All Entertainments I neglect,

Since Iris is no longer there:

Beauty scarce claims my bare Respect,

Since in the Throng I find not her.

Ah then! How vain it were to dress,
and show,

Since all I wish to please, is absent now!

’Tis with these Thoughts, Damon,
that your Mind ought to be employed,
during your time of Dressing:
And you are too knowing in Love,
to be ignorant,

That when a Lover ceases to be blest

With the dear Object he desires,

Ah! How indifferent are the rest!

How soon their Conversation tires!

C3 Though C3v 22

Though they a thousand Arts to please
invent,

Their Charms are dull, their Wit impertinent.

10 A-Clock.

Reading of Letters.

My Cupid points you now to
the Hour, in which you
ought to retire into your Cabinet,
having already past an Hour in Dressing;
and for a Lover, who is sure
not to appear before his Mistress,
even that Hour is too much to be so
employ’d. But I will think, you
thought of nothing less than Dressing,
while you were about it. Lose
then no more Minutes, but open
your Scrutore, and read over some of
those Billets you have receiv’d from
me. Oh! What Pleasures a Lover feels C4r 23
feels about his Heart, in reading those
from a Mistress he entirely loves!

The Joy.

Who, but a Lover, can express

The Joys, the Pants, the Tenderness,

That the soft Amorous Soul invades,

While the dear Billet-doux he reads?

Raptures Divine the Heart o’er-flow;

Which he that loves not, cannot know.

A thousand Tremblings, thousand Fears,

The short-breath’d Sighs, the joyful
Tears;

The Transport, where the Love’s confest,

The Change, where Coldness is exprest;

The diff’ring Flames the Lover burns,

As those are shy, or kind, by Turns.

C4 How- C4v 24

However you find ’em, Damon, construe
’em all to my Advantage: Possibly,
some of ’em have an Air of
Coldness, something different from
that Softness they are usually too
amply fill’d with; but where you
find they have, believe there, that
Sense of Honour, and my Sexes
Modesty, guided my Hand a little,
against the Inclinations of my Heart;
and that it was a kind of an Atonement,
I believed, I ought to
make, for something I feared, I had
said too kind, and too obliging before:
But where-ever you find that,
stop that Check in my Carriere of
Love; you will be sure to find something
that follows it to favour you,
and deny that unwilling Imposition
upon my Heart; which, lest you
should mistake, Love shews himself
in Smiles again, and flatters more
agreeably, disdaining the Tyranny of
Honour, and Rigid Custom, that Imposition
on our Sex; and will, in
spight of me, let you see, he Reigns
absolutely in my Soul.

The C5r 25

The Reading my Billet-doux may
detain you an Hour; I have had
Goodness enough to write you enough
to entertain you so long, at
least, and sometimes reproach my self
for it; but, contrary to all my Scruples,
I find my self dispos’d to give
you those frequent Marks of my Tenderness.
If yours be so great as you
express it, you ought to kiss my Letters
a Thousand times, you ought to
read them with Attention, and weigh
every Word, and value every Line.
A Lover may receive a Thousand indearing
Words from a Mistress, more
easily than a Billet. One says a great
many kind Things of Course to a
Lover, which one is not willing to
write, or to give testify’d under one’s
Hand, Sign’d and Seal’d. But when
once a Lover has brought his Mistress
to that degree of Love, he ought to
assure himself, she loves not at the
common Rate.

Love’s C5v 26

Love’s Witness.

Slight, unpremeditated Words are born,

By every common Wind, into the Air;

Carelesly utter’d, dye as soon as born,

And in one Instant, give both Hope
and Fear:

Breathing all Contraries with the same
Wind,

According to the Caprice of the Mind.

But Billets-doux are constant Witnesses

Substantial Records to Eternity;

Just Evidences, who the Truth confess;

On which, the Lover safely may rely:

They’re serious Thoughts, digested and
resolv’d;

And last, when Words are into Clouds
devolv’d.

I will C6r 27

I will not doubt, but you give
Credit to all that is Kind in my Letters;
and I will believe, you find
a Satisfaction in the Entertainment
they give you, and that the Hour
of Reading ’em is not dis-agreeable
to you. I cou’d wish, our Pleasure
might be Extream, even to the
Degree of suffering the Thought of
my Absence not to diminish any Part
of it. And I cou’d wish too, at the
End of your Reading, you wou’d
sigh with Pleasure, and say to your
self,――

The Transport.

O Iris! While you thus can charm,

While at this Distance, you can wound
and warm;

My absent Torments I will bless and
bear,

That give me such dear Proofs, how
kind you are.

Present, C6v 28

Present, the valu’d Store was only seen:

Now I am rifling the bright Mass
within.

Every dear past, and happy Day,

When Languishing at Iris Feet, I lay;

When all my Prayers, and all my Tears
cou’d move

No more than her Permission, I should
love:

Vain with my Glorious Destiny,

I thought, beyond, scarce any Heaven
cou’d be.

But, Charming Maid, now I am taught,

That Absence has a thousand Joys to give,

On which, the Lover, present, never
thought,

That recompence the Hours we grieve.

Rather C7r 29

Rather by Absence let me be undone,

Than forfeit all the Pleasures that has
won.

With this little Rapture, I wish
you wou’d finish the Reading my
Letters, shut your Scrutore, and quit
your Cabinet; for my Love leads to
Eleven A-Clock.

11 A-Clock.

The Hour to Write in.

If my Watch did not inform you,
’tis now time to Write: I believe,
Damon, your Heart wou’d; and tell
you also, that I should take it kindly,
if you wou’d employ a whole Hour
that way; and that you shou’d never
lose and Occasion of Writing to
me, since you are assur’d of the Welcome
I give your Letters. Perhaps you C7v 30
you will say, an Hour is too much,
and that ’tis not the Mode to write
long Letters. I grant you, Damon,
when we write those indifferent ones,
of Gallantry in Course, or necessary
Compliment; the handsom Comprising
of which, in the fewest Words,
renders ’em the most agreeable: But
in Love, we have a Thousand foolish
things to say, that, of themselves,
bear no great Sound, but have a mighty
Sense in Love; for there is a peculiar
Eloquence, natural alone to a
Lover, and to be understood by no
other Creature: To those, Words
have a thousand Graces, and Sweetnesses;
which, to the Unconcerned,
appears Meanness, and Easie Sense, at
the best. But, Damon, you and I
are none of those ill Judges of the
Beauties of Love; we can penetrate
beyond the Vulgar, and perceive the
fine Soul in every Line, through all
the humble Dress of Phrase; when
possibly, they who think they discern
it best in Florid Language, do
not see it at all. Love was not born, or bred C8r 31
bred in Courts, but Cottages; and
nurs’d in Groves and Shades, smiles
on the Plains, and wantons in the
Streams; all Unador’d, and Harmless.
Therefore, Damon, do not consult
your Wit in this Affair, but Love
alone; and speak all that He and
Nature taught you, and let the fine
Things you learn in Schools alone:
Make use of those Flowers you have
gather’d there, when you converse
with States-men, and the Gown. Let
Iris possess your Heart in all its simple
Innocence, that’s the best Eloquence
to her that loves; and this is
my Instruction to a Lover, that would
succeed in his Amours; for I have a
Heart very difficult to please, and this
is the nearest Way to it.

Advice to Lovers.

Lovers, if you would gain a Heart,

Of Damon learn to win the Prize:

He’ll shew you all its tend’rest Part,

And where its greatest Danger lies.

The C8v 32

The Magazin of its Disdain;

Where Honour, feebly guarded, does
remain.

If Present, do but little say;

Enough the silent Lover speaks:

But wait, and sigh, and gaze all day:

Such Rhet’rick, more than Language
takes.

For Words the dullest way do move;

And utter’d more to shew your Wit,
than Love.

Let your Eyes tell of your Heart:

Its Story is, for Words, too delicate.

Souls thus exchange, and thus impart,

And all their Secrets can relate.

A Tear, a broken Sigh, She’ll understand;

Or the soft trembling Pressings of the
Hand.

Or D1r 33

Or if your Pain must be in Words exprest,

Let ’em fall gently, unassur’d, and slow;

And where they fail, your Looks may
tell the rest:

Thus Damon spoke, and I was conquer’d
so.

The witty Talker has mistook his Art:

The modest Lover only charms the Heart.

Thus while all day you gazing sit,

And fear to speak, and fear your
Fate,

You more Advantages by Silence get,

Than the gay forward Youth, with
all his Prate.

Let him be silent here; but when away,

Whatever Love can dictate, let him say.

D There D1v 34

There let the Bashful Soul unvail,

And give a Loose to Love and Truth:

Let him improve the Amorous Tale,

With all the Force of Words, and Fire
of Youth.

There all, and any thing, let him expreß;

Too long he cannot write, too much confeß.

O Damon! How well have you made
me understand this soft Pleasure! You
know my Tenderness too well, not
to be sensible, how I am charmed with
your agreeable long Letters.

The Invention.

Ah! He who first found out the Way,

Souls to each other to convey,

Without dull Speaking, sure must be

Something above Humanity.

Let D2r 35

Let the fond World in vain dispute,

And the first Sacred Mystery impute

Of Letters, to the Learned Brood;

And of the Glory, cheat a God:

’Twas Love alone, that first the Art
essay’d;

And Psyche was the first fair yielding
Maid,

That was by the dear Billet-doux betray’d.

It is an Art too ingenious, to have
been found out by Man; and too necessary
to Lovers, not to have been invented
by the God of Love himself.
But, Damon, I do not pretend to exact
from you those Letters of Gallantry,
which, I have told you, are fill’d with
nothing but fine Thoughts, and writ
with all the Arts of Wit and Subtilty:
I wou’d have yours still, all Tender,D2 der D2v 36
unaffected Love, Words unchosen,
Thoughts unstudied, and Love unfeigned.
I had rather find more Softness,
than Wit, in your Passion; more
of Nature, than of Art; more of the
Lover, than the Poet. Nor wou’d I
have you write any of those little
short Letters, that are read over in a
Minute: In Love, long Letters bring
a long Pleasure. Do not trouble your
self to make ’em fine, or write a great
deal of Wit and Sense in a few Lines;
that is the Notion of a witty Billet,
in any Affair, but that of Love: And
have a Care, rather to avoid these
Graces to a Mistress; and assure your
self, dear Damon, that what pleases
the Soul, pleases the Eye; and the
Largeness, or Bulk of your Letter,
shall never offend me; and that I only
am displeased, when I find them
small. A Letter is ever the best, and
most powerful Agent to a Mistress:
It almost always perswades; ’tis always
renewing little Impressions,
that possibly, otherwise, Absence
would deface. Make use then, Damon,mon, D3r 37
of your Time, while ’tis given
you; and thank me, that I permit
you to write to me: Perhaps, I shall
not always continue in the Humour
of suffering you to do so; and it may
so happen, by some Turn of Chance
and Fortune, that you may be deprived,
at the same time, both of my
Presence, and of the Means of Sending
to me. I will believe, that such
an Accident wou’d be a great Misfortune
to you; for I have often heard
you say, that, “To make the most
happy Lover suffer Martyrdom,
one need only forbid him Seeing,
Speaking, and Writing to the Object
he loves.”
Take all the Advantages
then you can, you cannot
give me too often, Marks too powerful
of your Passion: Write therefore,
during this Hour, every Day. I give
you leave to believe, that while you
do so, you are Serving me the most
Obligingly, and Agreeably you can,
while Absent; and that you are giving
me a Remedy against all Grief,
Uneasiness, Melancholy, and Despair. D3 Nay, D3v 38
Nay, if you exceed your Hour, you
need not be asham’d: The Time you
employ in this kind Devoir, is the
Time that I shall be grateful for, and,
no doubt, will recompence it. You
ought not, however, to neglect Heaven
for me; I will give you time for
your Devotion, for my Watch tells
you, ’tis time to go to the Temple.

12 A-Clock

Indispensible Duty.

There are certain Duties, which
one ought never to neglect:
That of Adoring the Gods, is of this
nature; and which we ought to pay,
from the bottom of our Hearts: And
that, Damon, is the only Time, I will
dispence with your not Thinking on
me. But I would not have you go
to one of those Temples, where the
Celebrated Beauties, and those that
make a Profession of Gallantry, go; and D4r 39
and which come thither, only to see,
and be seen; and whither they repair,
more to shew their Beauty and
Dress, than to honour the Gods. If
you will take my Advice, and oblige
my Wish, you shall go to those that
are least frequented; and you shall
appear there, like a Man, that has a
perfect Veneration for all things Sacred.

The Instruction.

Damon, if your Heart, and Flame,

You wish, should always be the same,

Do not give it leave to Rove,

Nor expose it to new Harms:

E’er you think on’t, you may Love,

If you gaze on Beauty’s Charms.

If with me, you wou’d not part,

Turn your Eyes into your Heart.

D4 If D4v 40

If you find a new Desire,

In your Easie Soul, take Fire,

From the Tempting Ruin fly;

Think it Faithless, think it Base;

Fancy soon will fade, and dye,

If you wisely cease to gaze.

Lovers should have Honour too,

Or they pay but half Love’s Due.

Do not to the Temple go,

With design to Gaze, or Show:

What e’er Thoughts you have abroad,

Though you can deceive elsewhere,

There’s no Feigning with your God;

Souls should be all Perfect there.

The D5r 41

The Heart that’s to the Altar brought,

Only Heaven should fill its Thought.

Do not your sober Thoughts perplex,

By gazing on the Ogling Sex.

Or if Beauty call your Eyes,

Do not on the Object dwell:

Guard your Heart from the Surprize,

By thinking, Iris doth excel.

Above all Earthly Things, I’d be,

Damon, most Belov’d by Thee:

And only Heaven must Rival me.

1 A- D5v 42

1 A-Clock.

Forc’d Entertainment.

I perceive, it will be very difficult
for you to quit the Temple, without
being surrounded with Complements,
from People of Ceremony,
Friends, and News-Mongers, and several
of those sorts of Persons, who afflict
and busie themselves, and rejoyce at
a Hundred things, they have no Interest
in: Coquets, and Politicians;
who make it the Business of their
whole Lives, to gather all the News
of the Town: adding, or diminishing,
according to the Stock of their
Wit and Invention, and spreading it
all abroad, to the believing Fools and
Gossips; and perplexing evey Body
with a Hundred ridiculous Novels,
which they pass off, for Wit, and Entertainment:
Or else, some of those
Re-counters of Adventures, that are
always telling of Intrigues, and that make D6r 43
make a Secret, to a Hundred People,
of a Thousand foolish things they
have heard. Like a certain Pert, and
Impertinent Lady of the Town,
whose Youth and Beauty being past,
sets up for Wit, to uphold a feeble
Empire over idle Hearts: And whose
Character is this,――

The Coquet.

Milinda, who had never been

Esteem’d a Beauty at Fifteen,

Always Amorous was, and Kind:

To every Swain, she lent an Ear.

Free as Air, but False as Wind;

Yet none complain’d, She was Severe.

She eas’d more than she made complain:

Was always Singing, Pert, and Vain.

Where D6v 44

Where e’er the Throng was, she was seen,

And swept the Youths along the Green.

With equal Grace, she flatter’d all;

And fondly Proud of all Address:

Her Smiles invite, her Eyes do call;

And her vain Heart, her Looks confess.

She Raillies this, to that she Bow’d;

Was Talking ever, Laughing loud.

On every Side, she makes Advance;

And every where, a Confidance.

She tells, for Secrets, all she knows;

And all to know, she does pretend.

Beauty in Maids, she treats as Foes;

But every handsom Youth, as Friend.

Scandal D7r 45

Scandal still passes off for Truth;

And Noise and Nonsence, Wit, and Youth.

Coquet all o’er, and every Part,

Yet wanting Beauty, even of Art.

Herds with the Ugly, and the Old;

And plays the Critick on the rest

Of Men, the Bashful and the Bold;

Either, and All, by Turns, likes best.

Even now, tho’ Youth be languisht, she

Sets up for Love, and Gallantry.

This sort of Creature, Damon, is
very dangerous; not that I fear, you
will squander away a Heart upon her,
but your Hours; for, in spight of
you, she’ll detain you with a Thousand
Impertinencies, and Eternal Tattle.
She passes for a Judging Wit; and D7v 46
and there is nothing so troublesome,
as such a Pretender. She, perhaps,
may get some Knowledge of our
Correspondence; and then, no doubt,
will improve it, to my Disadvantage.
Possibly, she may rail at me; that is
her fashion, by the way of Friendly
Speaking; and an Aukward Commendation,
the most effectual Way of Defaming,
and Traducing. Perhaps she
tells you, in a cold Tone, that you
are a Happy Man, to be Belov’d by
me: That Iris, indeed, is handsom;
and she wonders, she has no more
Lovers; but the Men are not of her
Mind; if they were, you should have
more Rivals. She commends my
Face, but that I have Blue Eyes, and
’tis pity my Complexion is no better:
My Shape, but too much inclining
to Fat. Cries―She would
charm infinitely with her Wit, but
that she knows too well, she is Mistress
of it. And concludes,―But
All together, she is well enough.―
Thus she runs on, without giving
you leave to edge in a Word, in my Defence; D8r 47
Defence; and ever, and anon, Crying
up her own Conduct, and Management:
Tell you, how she is opprest
with Lovers, and fatigu’d with
Addresses; and recommending her
self, at every Turn, with a perceivable
Cunning: And all the while, is
Jilting you of your good Opinion;
which she would buy, at the Price of
any Body’s Repose, or her own Fame,
though but for the Vanity of Adding
to the number of her Lovers. When
she sees a new Spark, the first thing
she does, she enquires into his Estate:
If she find it such, as may (if the
Coxcomb be well manag’d) supply
her Vanity, she makes Advances to him,
and applies her self to all those little
Arts, she usually makes use of, to gain
her Fools; and, according to his Humour,
dresses and affects her own.
But, Damon, since I point to no particular
Person, in this Character, I
will not name, who you shall avoid;
but all of this sort, I conjure you,
wheresoever you find ’em. But if
unlucky Chance throw you in their Way, D8v 48
Way, hear all they say, without Credit,
or Regard, as far as Decency will
suffer you: Hear ’em, without approving
their Foppery; and hear ’em,
without giving ’em Cause to censure
you. But ’tis so much Time lost, to
listen to all the Novels, this sort of
People will perplex you with; whose
Business is, to be idle; and who, even
tire themselves with their own Impertinencies.
And be assur’d, after
all, there is nothing they can tell
you, that is worth your Knowing.
And, Damon, A perfect Lover never
asks any News, but of the Maid he
loves.

The Enquiry.

Damon, If your Love be True,

To the Heart that you possess,

Tell me; What have you to do,

Where you have no Tenderness?

Her E1r 49

Her Affairs, who cares to learn,

For whom he has not some Concern?

If a Lover fain would know,

If the Object lov’d be true,

Let her but industrious be,

To watch his Curiosity.

Tho’ ne’er so cold his Questions seem,

They come from warmer Thoughts within.

When I hear a Swain enquire

What Gay Melinda does to live,

I conclude, there is some Fire

In a Heart Inquisitive:

Or ’tis, at least, the Bill, that’s set,

To shew, The Heart is to be Let.

E 2 A- E1v 50

2 A-Clock.

Dinner-time

Leave all those fond Entertainments,
or you will dis-oblige
me, and make Dinner wait for you;
for my Cupid tells you, ’tis that Hour.
Love does not pretend to make you
lose that; nor is it my Province, to
order you your Dyet. Here I give
you a perfect Liberty, to do what you
please: And possibly, ’tis the only
Hour in the whole Four and twenty,
that I will absolutely resign you, or
dispence with your, even so much as
Thinking on me. ’Tis true, in Seating
your self at Table, I wou’d not
have you plac’d over against a very
Beautiful Object; for in such an one,
there are a Thousand little Graces, in
Speaking, Looking, and Laughing,
that fail not to Charm, if one gives
way to the Eyes, to gaze and wander
that Way; in which, perhaps, in spight E2r 51
spight of you, you will find a Pleasure:
And while you do so, though
without Design, or Concern, you
give the fair Charmer a sort of Vanity,
in believing, you have plac’d
your self there, only for the Advantage
of Looking on her; and assumes
a Hundred little Graces, and
Affectations, which are not Natural
to her, to compleat a Conquest,
which she believes so well begun already.
She softens her Eyes, and
sweetens her Mouth; and, in fine,
puts on another Air, than when she
had no Design; and when you did
not, by your continual Looking on
her, rouze her Vanity, and increase
her easie Opinion of her own Charms.
Perhaps she knows, I have some Interest
in your Heart; and Prides her
self, at least, with believing, she has
attracted the Eyes of my Lover, if
not his Heart; and thinks it easie to
vanquish the Whole, if she pleases;
and triumphs over me in her secret
Imaginations. Remember, Damon,
that while you act thus in the Company,E2 pany, E2v 52
and Conversation of other
Beauties, that every Look, or Word,
you give, in favour of ’em, is an Indignity
to my Reputation; and,
which you cannot suffer, if you love
me truly, and with Honour: And,
assure your self, so much Vanity as
you inspire in her, so much Fame
you rob me of; for whatever Praises
you give another Beauty, so much
you take away from mine. Therefore,
if you dine in Company, do as
others do: Be generally Civil, not applying
your self, by Words, or Looks,
to any particular Person: Be as gay as
you please: Talk and laugh with all,
for this is not the Hour for Chagrin.

The Permission

My Damon, tho’ I stint your Love,

I will not stint your Appetite:

That I would have you still improve,

By every new, and fresh Delight.

Feast, E3r 53

Feast, till Apollo hides his Head;

Or drink the Am’rous God to Thetis Bed.

Be like your self: All Witty, Gay!

And o’re the Bottle bless the
Board,

The Listening round will, all the
Day,

Be charm’d and pleas’d with
every word.

Tho’ Venus Son inspire your Wit,

’Tis the Selenian God best utters it.

Here talk of ev’ry thing, but me,

Since ev’ry Thing you say with
Grace.

If not dispos’d your Humour be,

And you’d this Hour in Silence
pass;

E3 Since E3v 54

Since something must the Subject
prove

Of Damon’s Thoughts; let it be Me,
and Love.

But, Damon, this enfranchis’d Hour,

No Bounds, or Laws, will I impose;

But leave it wholly in your Pow’r,

What Humour to refuse, or chuse.

I Rules prescribe but to your Flame;

For I, your Mistress, not Physitian, am.

3 A- E4r 55

3 A-Clock.

Visits to Friends.

Damon, my Watch is juster than
you imagine; it would not
have you live Retired and Solitary,
but permits you to go, and make Visits.
I am not one of those that believe,
Love and Friendship cannot
find a Place in one and the same
Heart: And that Man wou’d be very
unhappy, who, as soon as he had
a Mistress, shou’d be oblig’d to renounce
the Society of his Friends. I
must confess, I wou’d not, that you
shou’d have so much Concern for
them, as you have for me; for I have
heard a sort of a Proverb, that says,
“He cannot be very fervent in Love,
who is not a little cold in Friendship.”
You are not ignorant, that
when Love establishes himself in a
Heart, he Reigns a Tyrant there;
and will not suffer, even Friendship, E4 if E4v 56
if it pretend to share his Empire
there.

Cupid.

Love is a God, whose charming Sway,

Both Heaven, and Earth, and Seas
obey.

A Pow’r that will not mingled be

With any dull Equality.

Since first from Heav’n, which gave him
Birth,

He rul’d the Empire of the Earth,

Jealous of Sov’raign Power, he rules,

And will be Absolute in Souls.

I shou’d be very angry, if you had
any of those Friendship, which one
ought to desire in a Mistress only;
for many times it happens, that you
have Sentiments a little too tender for E5r 57
for those Amiable Persons; and many
times, Love and Friendship are so
confounded together, that once cannot
easily discern one from t’other.
I have seen a Man flatter himself
with an Opinion, that he had but an
Esteem for a Woman, when, by some
Turn of Fortune in her Life, as Marrying,
or Receiving the Addresses of
Men, he has found, by Spight and
Jealousies within, that that was Love,
which he before took for Complaisance,
or Friendship. Therefore have
a Care; for such Amities are dangerous.
Not but that a Lover may
have Fair and Generous Female
Friends, whom he ought to visit;
and perhaps, I shou’d esteem you less,
if I did not believe, you were valued
by such, if I were perfectly assured,
they were Friends, and not Lovers.
But have a care, you hide not a Mistress
under this Veil, or that you gain
not a Lover by this Pretence; for
you may begin with Friendship, and
end with Love; and I shou’d be equally
afflicted, shou’d you give it, or receiveceive E5v 58
it. And though you charge
our Sex with all the Vanity; yet I
often find Nature to have given you
as large a Portion of that common
Crime, which you wou’d shuffle off,
as asham’d to own; and are as fond
and vain of the Imagination of a
Conquest, as any Coquet of us all;
though, at the same time, you despise
the Victim, you think it adds a Trophy
to your Fame. And I have seen
a Man dress, and trick, and adjust his
Looks and Meen, to make a Visit to
a Woman he lov’d not, nor ever cou’d
love, as for those he made to his Mistress;
and only for the Vanity of making
a Conquest upon a Heart, even
unworthy of the little Pains he has
taken about it. And what is this, but
buying Vanity as the Expence of
Sense and Ease; and with Fatigue,
purchase the Name of a Conceited
Fop, besides that of a dishonest Man?
For he who takes pains to make himself
Belov’d, only to please his curious
Humour, though he should
say nothing that tends to it, more than E6r 59
than by his Looks, his Sighs, and
now and then breaking into Praises
and Commendations of the Object,
by the Care he takes, to appear
well drest before her, and in good
Order; he lies in his Looks, he deceives
with his Meen and Fashion,
and cheats with every Motion, and
every Grace he puts on: He cozens
when he sings, or dances, he dissembles
when he sighs; and every thing
he does, that wilfully gains upon her,
is Malice propense, Baseness, and Art
below a Man of Sense, or Vertue:
And yet these Arts, these Coz’nages,
are the common Practices of the
Town. What’s this, but that Damnable
Vice, of which they so reproach
our Sex; that of Jilting for
Hearts? And ’tis in vain, that my
Lover, after such foul Play, shall
think to appease me, with saying,
“He did it, to try how easily he cou’d
conquer, and of how great Force his
Charms were: And why shou’d I
be angry, if all the Town lov’d him,
since he lov’d none but Iris?”
Oh Foolish E6v 60
Foolish Pleasure! How little Sense
goes to the making of such a Happiness?
And how little Love must he
have for one particular Person, who
wou’d wish to inspire it into all the
World, and yet himself pretend to be
insensible? But this, Damon, is rather,
what is but too much practised
by your Sex, than any Guilt I charge
on you; though Vanity be an Ingredient,
that Nature very seldom omits,
in the Composition of either Sex;
and you may be allow’d a Tincture
of it, at least. And perhaps, I am
not wholly exempt from this Leaven
in my Nature, but accuse my self
sometimes, of finding a secret Joy of
being Ador’d, though I even hate my
Worshipper. But if any such Pleasure
touch my Heart, I find it, at
the same time, blushing in my Cheeks,
with a guilty Shame; which soon
checks the petty Triumph, and I
have a Vertue at soberer Thoughts,
that I find surmounts my Weakness,
and Indiscretion; and I hope, Damon
finds the same; for should he have E7r 61
have any of those Attachments, I
should have no Pity for him.

The Example.

Damon, if you wou’d have me True,

Be you my President, and Guide:

Example sooner we pursue,

Than the dull Dictates of our
Pride.

Precepts of Vertue are too weak an
Aim:

’Tis Demonstration, that can best reclaim.

Shew me the Path you’d have me go;

With such a Guide, I cannot stray:

What you approve, what e’er you do,

It is but just, I bend that Way.

If E7v 62

If true, my Honour favours your Design:

If false, Revenge is the Result of mine.

A Lover True, a Maid Sincere,

Are to be priz’d, as Things Divine:

’Tis Justice makes the Blessing dear;

Justice of Love, without Design.

And She that Reigns not in a Heart
alone,

Is never Safe, or Easie, on her Throne.

4 A- E8r 63

4 A-Clock.

General Conversation.

In this Visiting Hour, many People
will happen to meet, at one and
the same time together, in a Place:
And, as you make not Visits to
Friends, to be silent, you ought to
enter into Conversation with ’em;
but those Conversations ought to be
General, and of General Things;
for there is no necessity of making
your Friend the Confident of your
Amours: ’Twould infinitely displease
me, to hear, you have reveal’d to
them, all that I have repos’d in you:
Though Secrets never so trivial, yet,
since utter’d between Lovers, they
deserve to be priz’d at a higher Rate.
For what can shew a Heart more indifferent,
and indiscreet, than to declare,
in any Fashion, or with Mirth,
or Joy, the Tender Things a Mistress
says to a Lover; and which possibly, related E8v 64
related at Second Hand, bear not the
same Sense, because they have not the
same Sound and Air, they had Originally,
when they came from the soft
Heart of her, who sigh’d ’em first, to
her lavish Lover. Perhaps they are
told again with Mirth, or Joy, unbecoming
their Character, and Business;
and then they lose their Graces;
(for Love is the most Solemn
Thing in Nature, and the most unsuiting
with Gayety.) Perhaps the soft
Expressions sute not so well the harsher
Voice of the Masculine Lover,
whose Accents were not form’d for
so much Tenderness; at least, not of
that sort; for Words that have the
same Meaning, are alter’d from their
Sense, by the least Tone, or Accent
of the Voice; and those proper, and
fitted to my Soul, are not, possibly,
so to yours, though both have the
same Efficacy upon us; yours upon
my Heart, as mine upon yours; and
both will be mis-understood by the
unjudging World. Besides this, there
is a Holiness in Love, that’s true, that ought F1r 65
ought not to be prophan’d: And as
the Poet truly says, at the latter End
of an Ode; of which, I will recite the
Whole.

The Invitation

Aminta, fear not to confess

The charming Secret of thy Tenderness:

That which a Lover can’t conceal,

That which, to me, thou shouldst reveal;

And is but what thy Lovely Eyes express.

Come, whisper to my panting Heart,

That heaves, and meets thy Voice
half way:

That guesses what thou wou’dst impart,

And languishes for what thou hast to
say.

F Confirm F1v 66

Confirm my trembling Doubt, and make
me know,

Whence all these Blushings, and these
Sighings flow.

Why dost thou scruple to unfold

A Mystery that does my Life concern?

If thou ne’er speak’st, it will be told;

For Lovers all things can discern.

From every Look, from every bashful
Grace,

That still succeed each other, in thy
Face,

I shall the dear Transporting Secret
learn:

But ’tis a Pleasure, not to be exprest,

To hear it by thy Voice confest,

When soft Sighs breath it on my panting
Breast.

All F2r 67

All calm and silent is the Grove,

Whose shading Boughs resist the Day:

Here thou may’st blush, and talk of
Love,

While only Winds, unheeding, stay,

That will not bear the Sound away:

While I, with solemn Awful Joy,

All my Attentive Faculties employ;

List’ning to ev’ry valu’d Word;

And in my Soul, the Sacred Treasure
hoard.

There, like some Mystery Divine,

The Wondrous Knowledge I’ll enshrine.

Love can his Joys, no longer call his
own,

Than the dear Secret’s kept unknown.

F2 There F2v 68

There is nothing more true, than
those two last Lines; and that Love
ceases to be a Pleasure, when it ceases
to be a Secret, and one you ought to
keep Sacred. For the World, who
never makes a right Judgment of
Things, will mis-interpret Love, as
they do Religion; every one judging
it, according to the Notion he has of
it, or the Talent of his Sense. Love,
as a great Duke said, is like Apparitions;
every one talks of ’em, but
few have seen ’em: Every body
thinks himself capable of understanding
Love, and that he is a Master in
the Art of it; when there is nothing
so nice, or difficult to be rightly comprehended;
and indeed, cannot be,
but to a Soul very delicate. Nor
will he make himself known to the
Vulgar: There must be an uncommon
Fineness in the Mind, that contains
him; the rest, he only visits in as
many Disguises, as there are Dispositions,
and Natures; where he makes
but a short Stay, and is gone. He
can fit himself to all Hearts, being the greatest F3r 69
greatest Flatterer in the World: And
he possesses every one with a Confidence,
that they are in the Number
of his Elect; and they think, they
know him perfectly, when nothing
but the Spirits refin’d, possess him in
his Excellency. From this Difference
of Love in different Souls, proceeds
those odd Fantastick Maxims, which
so many hold of so different Kinds:
And this makes the most innocent
Pleasures pass oftentimes for Crimes,
with the unjudging Crowd, who call
themselves Lovers: And you will
have your Passion censur’d, by as many
as you shall discover it to, and as
many several Ways. I advise you
therefore, Damon, to make no Confifidents
of your Amours; and believe,
that Silence has, with me, the most
powerful Charm.

’Tis also in these Conversations,
that those indiscreetly civil Persons
often are, who think to oblige a good
Man, by letting him know, he is Belov’d
by some one, or other; and
making him understand, how many F3 good F3v 70
good Qualities he is Master of, to render
him agreeable to the fair Sex, if
he wou’d but advance, where Love
and good Fortune calls; and that a
too constant Lover loses a great part
of his Time, which might be manag’d
to more Advantage, since Youth
hath so short a Race to run: By this,
and a Thousand the like indecent
Complaisances, give him a Vanity,
that sutes not with that Discretion,
which has hitherto acquir’d him so
good a Reputation. I wou’d not
have you, Damon, act on these Occasions,
as many of the Easie Sparks
have done before you, who receive
such Weakness and Flattery
for Truth; and passing it off with
a Smile, suffer ’em to advance in Folly,
’till they have gain’d a Credit
with ’em, and they believe all they
hear; telling ’em they do so, by consenting
Gestures, Silence, or open
Approbation. For my part, I shou’d
not condemn a Lover, that shou’d
answer such a sort of civil Brokers for
Love somewhat briskly, and by givinging F4r 71
’em to understand, they are already
engaged; or directing ’em to
Fools, that will possibly hearken to
’em, and credit such Stuff, shame ’em
out of a Folly so infamous, and disingenious.
In such a Case only, I am
willing you shou’d own your Passion;
not that you need tell the Object,
which has charm’d you: And
you may say, you are already a Lover,
without saying, you are Belov’d.
For so long as you appear to have a
Heart unengag’d, you are expos’d to
all the little Arts and Addresses of
this sort of obliging Procurers of
Love, and give way to the Hope they
have, of making you their Proselyte.
For your own Reputation then, and
my Ease and Honour, shun such Conversations;
for they are neither credible
to you, nor pleasing to me:
And believe me, Damon, a true Lover
has no Curiosity, but what concerns
his Mistress.

F4 5 A- F4v 72

5 A-Clock.

Dangerous Visits.

I fore-see, or fear, that these busie,
impertinent Friends will oblige
you, to visit some Ladies of their Acquaintance,
or yours: My Watch
does not forbid you. Yet I must tell
you, I apprehend Danger in such Visits;
and I fear, you will have need
of all your Care and Precaution, in
these Encounters. That you may
give me no Cause to suspect you, perhaps
you will argue, that Civility obliges
you to’t: If I were assur’d, there
wou’d no other Design be carried on,
I shou’d believe, it were to advance
an Amorous Prudence too far, to forbid
you. Only keep your self upon
your Guard; for the Business of most
part of the fair Sex is, to seek only
the Conquest of Hearts: All their Civilities,
are but so many Interests;
and they do nothing without Design. And F5r 73
And in such Conversations, there is
always a Je ne scay quoy, that is to
be fear’d; especially, when Beauty is
accompanied with Youth and Gayety;
and which they assume, upon all
Occasions that may serve their Turn.
And I confess, ’tis not an easie matter
to be just in these Hours and Conversations:
The most certain Way of being
so, is to imagine, I read all your
Thoughts, observe all your Looks,
and hear all your Words.

The Caution.

My Damon, if your Heart be kind,

Do not too long with Beauty stay;

For there are certain Moments, when
the Mind

Is hurry’d, by the Force of Charms, away.

In Fate, a Minute Critical there lies,

That waits on Love, and takes you by
Surprise.

A Lo- F5v 74

A Lover pleas’d with Constancy,

Lives still as if the Maid he lov’d
were by:

As if his Actions were in View:

As if his Steps she did pursue;

Or that his very Soul she knew.

Take heed; for tho’ I am not present
there,

My Love, my Genius, waits you every
where.

I am very much pleas’d with the
Remedy, you say, you make use
of, to defend your self from the Attacks
that Beauty gives your Heart;
which, in one of your Billets, you
said, was this or to this purpose.

The F6r 75

The Charm for Constancy.

Iris, to keep my Soul entire, and true,

It thinks, each Moment of the Day, on
you.

And when a charming Face I see,

That does all other Eyes incline,

It has no Influence on me:

I think it ev’n deform’d to thine.

My Eyes, my Soul, and Sense, regardless
move

To all, but the dear Object of my Love.

But, Damon, I know, all Lovers are
naturally Flatterers, though they do
not think so themselves; because every
one makes a Sense of Beauty, according
to his own Fancy. But perhaps,
you will say, in your own Defence,fence, F6v 76
That ’tis not Flattery to say,
an Unbeautiful Woman is Beautiful,
if he that says so, believes she is so.
I shou’d be content to acquit you of
the first, provided you allow me the
last: And if I appear Charming in
Damon’s Eyes, I am not fond of the
Approbation of any other. ’Tis enough,
the World thinks me not altogether
disagreeable, to justifie his
Choice; but let your good Opinion
give what Increase it pleases, to my
Beauty; though your Approbation
give me a Pleasure, it shall not a Vanity;
and I am contented, that Damon
should think me a Beauty, without
my believing I am one. ’Tis not
to draw new Assurances, and new
Vows from you, that I speak this;
though Tales of Love are the only
ones we desire to hear often told, and
which never tire the Hearers, if addrest
to themselves: But ’tis not to
this End, I now seem to doubt what
you say to my Advantage: No, my
Heart knows no Disguise, nor can
dissemble one Thought of it to Damon;mon; F7r 77
’tis all Sincere, and Honest, as
his Wish: ’Tis therefore it tells you,
it does not credit every Thing you
say; though I believe, you say abundance
of Truths, in a great Part of
my Character. But when you advance
to that, which my own Sense,
my Judgment, or my Glass cannot
perswade me to believe; you must
give me leave, either to believe, you
think me vain enough to credit you,
or pleas’d, that your Sentiments and
mine are differing in this Point. But
I doubt, I may rather reply in some
Verses, a Friend of yours and mine,
sent to a Person, she thought, had but
indifferent Sentiments for her; yet,
who, nevertheless, flatter’d her, because
he imagin’d, she had a very
great Esteem for him. She is a Woman
that, you know, naturally hates
Flattery: On the other side, she was
extreamly dis-satisfy’d, and uneasie,
at his Opinion, of his being more in
her Favour, than she desir’d he shou’d
believe. So that, one Night, having
left her full of Pride and Anger, she, next F7v 78
next Morning, sent him these Verses,
instead of a Billet-doux.

The Defyance.

By Heaven, ’tis false: I am not vain;

And rather wou’d the Subject be

Of your Indifference, or Disdain,

Than Wit, or Raillery.

Take back the trifling Praise you give,

And pass it on samesome Easier Fool,

Who may th’Injuring Wit believe,

That turns her into Ridicule.

Tell her, she’s Witty, Fair, and Gay;

With all the Charms that can subdue:

Perhaps she’l credit what you say:

But Curse me, if I do.

If F8r 79

If your Diversion you design,

On my Good Nature you have prest:

Or if you do intend it mine,

You have mistook the Jest.

Philander, fly that guilty Art:

Your Charming Facil Wit will find,

It cannot play long on a Heart,

That is Sincere and Kind.

For Wit with Softness does reside,

Good Nature is with Pity stor’d;

But Flatt’ry’s the Result of Pride,

And fawns to be Ador’d.

Nay, F8v 80

Nay, even when you smile and bow,

’Tis to be render’d more compleat.

Your Wit, with ev’ry Grace you shew,

Is but a Popular Cheat.

Laugh on, and call me Coxcomb――do;

And, your Opinion to improve,

Think, all you think of me, is true;

And, to confirm it, swear, I love.

Then, while you wreck my Soul with
Pain,

And of a Cruel Conquest boast,

’Tis you, Philander, that are Vain,

And Witty, at my Cost.

Possibly, G1r 81

Possibly, the angry Aminta, when
she writ these Verses, was more offended,
that he believ’d himself belov’d,
than that he flatter’d; though
she wou’d seem to make that a great
Part of the Quarrel, and Cause of her
Resentment: For we are often in an
Humour, to seem more Modest in
that Point, than naturally we are;
being too apt to have a favourable
Opinion of our selves: And ’tis rather,
the Effects of a Fear that we
are flatter’d, than our own ill Opinion
of the Beauty flatter’d; and
that the Praiser does not think so
well of it, as we do our selves, or as,
at least, we wish he shou’d. Not but
there are Grains of Allowance, for the
Temper of him that speaks: One
Man’s Humour is, to talk much; and
he may be permitted to enlarge upon
the Praise he gives the Person he pretends
to, without being accus’d of
much Guilt. Another hates to be
Wordy; from such an one, I have
known, one soft Expression, one tender
Thing, go as far, as whole Days G ever- G1v 82
everlasting Protestations, urg’d with
Vows, and mighty Eloquence: And
both the One, and the Other, indeed,
must be allow’d, in good Manners, to
stretch the Complement beyond the
Bounds of nice Truth; and we must
not wonder, to hear a Man call a Woman,
a Beauty, when she is not Ugly;
or another, a Great Wit, if she
have but Common Sense, above the
Vulgar; well Bred, when well Drest;
and Good-Natur’d, when Civil. And
as I shou’d be very Ridiculous, if I
took all you said, for Absolute Truth;
so I shou’d be very Unjust, not to allow
you very Sincere, in almost all
you said besides; and those Things,
the most Material to Love, Honour,
and Friendship. And for the rest,
Damon, be it true, or false, this believe;
You speak with such a Grace,
that I cannot chuse but Credit you;
and find an infinite Pleasure in that
Faith, because I love you: And if I
cannot find the Cheat, I am contented,
you shou’d deceive me on, because
you do it so agreeably.

6 A- G2r 83

6 A-Clock.

Walk without Design.

You yet have Time to Walk;
and my Watch fore-saw, you
cou’d not refuse your Friends. You
must to the Park, or the Mall; for
the Season is fair, and inviting; and
all the Young Beauties love those Places
too well, not to be there. ’Tis
there, that a Thousand Intrigues are
carried on, and as many more design’d.
’Tis there, that every one is
set out for Conquest; and who aim
at nothing, less than Hearts. Guard
yours well, my Damon; and be not
always Admiring what you see. Do
not, in passing by, sigh ’em silent Praises.
Suffer not so much as a guilty
Wish to approach your Thoughts, nor
a heedful Glance to steal from your
fine Eyes: Those are Regards, you
ought only to have for her you Love.
But Oh! Above all, have a Care of G2 what G2v 84
what you say. You are not reproachable,
if you should remain silent, all
the Time of your Walk; nor wou’d
those that know you, believe it the
Effects of Dulness, but Melancholy.
And if any of your Friends ask you,
Why you are so? I will give you
leave to sigh, and say――

The Mal-Content.

Ah! Wonder not, if I appear

Regardless of the Pleasures here;

Or that my Thoughts are thus confin’d

To the Just Limits of my Mind.

My Eyes take no Delight to rove

O’er all the Smiling Charmers of the
Grove,

Since She is absent, whom they Love.

Ask G3r 85

Ask me not, Why the flow’ry Spring,

Or the Gay Little Birds, that sing,

Or the Young Streams, no more delight,

Or Shades and Arbours can’t invite?

Why the soft Murmurs of the Wind,

Within the Thick-grown Groves confin’d,

No more my Soul transport, or cheer?

Since all that’s Charming,――Iris is
not here;

Nothing seems Glorious, nothing Fair.

Then suffer me to Wander thus,

With Down-cast Eyes, and Arms
a-cross.

G3 Let G3v 86

Let Beauty, unregarded go;

The Trees and Flowers; unheeded
grow.

Let purling Streams, neglected glide;

With all the Spring’s adorning-
Pride

’Tis Iris only Soul can give

To the Dull Shades, and Plains, and
make ’em Thrive;

Nature, and my lost Joys, retrieve.

I do not, for all this, wholly confine
your Eyes: You may look indifferently,
on all; but with a particular
Regard, on none. You may praise
all the Beauties, in General; but no
single One, too much. I will not
exact from you, neither, an entire Silence:
There are a Thousand Civilities,
you ought to pay to all your
Friends and Acquaintance; and while I cau- G4r 87
I caution you of Actions, that may
get you the Reputation of a Lover, of
some of the Fair, that haunt those
Places; I wou’d not have you, by an
unnecessary, and uncomplaisant Sullenness,
gain that of a Person too
Negligent, or Morose. I wou’d have
you remiss in no one Punctilio of
Good Manners. I wou’d have you
very Just, and pay all you Owe. But
in these Affairs, be not Over-generous,
and give away too much. In
fine, You may Look, Speak, and
Walk; but, Damon, do it all without
Design: And while you do so, remember,
that Iris sent you this Advice.

The Warning.

Take heed, my Damon, in the Grove,

Where Beauties, with Design, do
walk:

G4 Take G4v 88

Take heed, my Damon, how you look,
and talk;

For there are Ambuscades of Love.

The very Winds, that softly blow,

Will help betray your Easie Heart;

And all the Flowers, that blushing
grow;

The Shades above, and Rivulets below,

Will take the Victor’s Part.

Remember, Damon, all my Safety lies

In the Just Conduct of your Eyes.

The Heart, by Nature, Good and
Brave,

Is, to those Treacherous Guards, a
Slave.

If G5r 89

If they let in the Fair destructive Foe,

Scarce Honour can defend her Noble
Seat:

Ev’n She will be corrupted too,

Or driv’n to a Retreat.

The Soul is but the Cully to the Sight,

And must be pleas’d, in what that takes
Delight.

Therefore, examine your self well;
and conduct your Eyes, during this
Walk, like a Lover, that seeks nothing:
And do not stay too long in
these Places.

7 A- G5v 90

7 A-Clock.

Voluntary Retreat.

’Tis Time to be weary; ’tis
Night: Take Leave of your
Friends, and retire Home. ’Tis in
this Retreat, that you ought to recollect,
in your Thoughts, all the Actions
of the Day; and all those Things,
that you ought to give me an Account
of, in your Letter: You cannot
hide the least Secret from me,
without Treason against Sacred Love.
For all the World agrees, that Confidence
is one of the greatest Proofs of
the Passion of Love: and that Lover,
who refuses this Confidence to the
Person he loves, is to be suspected, to
love but very indifferently, and to
think very poorly of the Sense and
Generosity of his Mistress. But, that
you may acquit your self like a Man,
and a Lover of Honour, and leave me
no Doubt upon my Soul; think of all G6r 91
all you have done this Day, that I
may have all the Story of it, in your
next Letter to me: But deal faithfully;
and neither add, nor diminish, in
your Relation; the Truth and Sincerity
of your Confession will attone,
even for little Faults, that you shall
commit against me, in some of those
Things you shall tell me. For if you
have fail’d in any Point, of Circumstance
of Love, I had much rather
hear it from you, than another: For
’tis a sort of Repentance, to accuse
your self; and wou’d be a Crime unpardonable,
if you suffer me to hear
it from any other: And be assur’d,
while you confess it, I shall be indulgent
enough to forgive you. The
noblest Quality of Man, is Sincerity;
and, Damon, one ought to have as
much of it in Love, as in any other
Business of one’s Life, notwithstanding
the most Part of Men make no
Account of it there; but will believe,
there ought to be double Dealing, and
an Art, practis’d in Love, as well as in
War. But, Oh! beware of that Notion:

Sincerity. G6v 92

Sincerity.

Sincerity! Thou greatest Good!

Thou Vertue, which so many boast!

And art so nicely understood!

And often, in the Searching, lost.

For when we do approach thee near,

The fine Idea, fram’d of thee,

Appears not now, so charming fair,

As the more useful Flattery.

Thou hast no Glist’ring, to invite;

Nor tak’st the Lover, at first Sight.

The Modest Vertue shuns the Croud,

And lives, like Vestals, in a Cell;

In G7r 93

In Cities, ’twill not be allow’d;

Nor takes Delight, in Courts to
dwell.

’Tis Nonsense with the Man of Wit;

And ev’n a Scandal to the Great:

For all the Young, and Fair, unfit;

And scorn’d by wiser Fops of State.

A Vertue, yet was never known

To the false Trader, or the falser Gown.

And, Damon, tho’ thy Noble Blood

Be most Illustr’ous, and Refin’d;

Tho’ ev’ry Grace, and ev’ry Good

Adorn thy Person, and thy Mind;

Yet, if this Vertue shine not there;

(This God-like Vertue, which
alone,

Wer’t G7v 94

Wer’t thou less Witty, Brave, or
Fair,

Wou’d for all these, less priz’d,
attone:)

My tender Folly I’d controul,

And scorn the Conquest of thy Soul.

8 A-Clock.

Impatient Demands.

After you have sufficiently recollected
your self, of all the past
Actions of the Day, call your Page
into your Cabinet, or him, whom
you trusted with your last Letter to
me; where you ought to enquire of
him, a Thousand Things; and all, of
me. Ask impatiently; and be angry,
if he answers not your Curiosity
soon enough: Think that he has a
Dreaming in his Voice, in these Moments,ments, G8r 95
more than at other Times;
and reproach him with Dulness. For
’tis most certain, that when one loves
tenderly, we wou’d know in a Minute,
what cannot be related in an
Hour. Ask him, How I did? How
I receiv’d his Letter? And if he examin’d
the Air of my Face, when I
took it? If I Blusht, or lookt Pale?
If my Hand trembl’d, or I spoke to
him, with short, interrupting Sighs?
If I askt him any Questions about
you, while I was opening the Seal?
or if I cou’d not well speak, and was
silent? If I read it Attentively, and
with Joy? And all this, before you
open the Answer, I have sent you by
him: Which, because you are impatient
to read, you, with the more
Haste and Earnestness, demand all
you expect from him; and that you
may the better know, what Humour
I was in, when I writ that to you.
For, Oh! a Lover has a Thousand
little Fears, and Dreads; he knows
not why. In fine, make him recount
to you, all that past, while he was with G8v 96
with me: And then you ought to
read that which I have sent, that you
may inform your self of all that passes
in my Heart; for you may assure
your self, all that I say to you that
way, proceeds from thence.

The Assurance.

How shall a Lover come to know,

Whether he’s Belov’d, or no?

What dear Things must she impart,

To assure him of her Heart?

Is it, when her Blushes rise;

And she languish in her Eyes:

Tremble, when he does approach:

Look Pale, and faint at ev’ry Touch?

Is it when, a Thousand Ways,

She does his Wit and Beauty praise?

Or H1r 97

Or she venture to explain,

In less moving Words, a Pain;

Tho’ so indiscreet she grows,

To confirm it with her Vows.

These some short-liv’d Passion moves,

While the Object’s by, she loves;

While the gay, and sudden Fire

Kindles by some fond Desire:

And a Coldness will ensue,

When the Lover’s out of View.

Then she reflects, with Scandal, o’re

The easie Scene, that past before.

Then, with Blushes, wou’d recall

The unconsid’ring Criminal;

In which, a Thousand Faults she’ll find,

And chide the Errors of her Mind.

H Such H1v 98

Such fickle Weight is found in Words,

As no substantial Faith affords:

Deceiv’d and baffl’d all may be,

Who trust that frail Security.

But a well-digested Flame,

That will always be the same;

And that does, from Merit, grow

Establisht by our Reason too;

By a better Way, will prove,

’Tis th’ unerring Fire of Love.

Lasting Records it will give:

And, that all she says, may live,

Sacred and Authentick stand,

Her Heart confirms it by her Hand.

If this, a Maid, well born, allow;

Damon, believe her Just and True.

9 A- H2r 99

9 A-Clock.

Melancholy Reflections.

You will not have much trouble
to explain what my Watch designs
here. There can be no Thought
more afflicting, than that of the Absence
of a Mistress; and which, the
Sighings of the Heart will soon make
you find. Ten Thousand Fears oppress
him; he is jealous of every Body,
and envies those Eyes and Ears,
that are charm’d, by being near the
Object ador’d. He grows impatient,
and makes a Thousand Resolutions,
and as soon abandons ’em all. He
gives himself wholly up to the Torment
of Incertainty; and by degrees,
from one cruel Thought, to another,
winds himself up to insupportable
Chagrin. Take this Hour then, to
think on your Misfortunes; which
cannot be small, to a Soul that is
wholly sensible of Love. And every H2 one H2v 100
one knows, that a Lover, depriv’d
of the Object of his Heart, is depriv’d
of all the World, and Inconsolable.
For though one wishes, without ceasing,
for the dear Charmer one loves,
and though you speak of her every
Minute; though you are writing to
her every Day, and though you are
infinitely pleas’d with the dear, and
tender Answers; yet, to speak sincerely,
it must be confest, that the
Felicity of a true Lover, is to be always
near his Mistress. And you
may tell me, O Damon! what you
please; and say, that Absence inspires
the Flame, which perpetual
Presence wou’d satiate; I love too
well, to be of that Mind; and when
I am, I shall believe, my Passion is
declining. I know not whether it advances
your Love; but surely, it must
ruin your Repose: And is it impossible
to be, at once, an absent Lover, and
Happy too? For my part, I can meet
with nothing, that can please, in the
Absence of Damon; but, on the contrary,
I see all Things with Disgust. I will H3r 101
I will flatter my self, that ’tis so with
you; and that the least Evils appear
great Misfortunes; and that all those,
who speak to you of any thing, but of
what you love, increase your Pain, by
a new Remembrance of her Absence.
I will believe, that these are your Sentiments,
you are assur’d, not to see
me in some Weeks; and, if your
Heart do not betray your Words, all
those Days will be tedious to you. I
wou’d not, however, have your Melancholy
too extream; and to lessen
it, you may perswade your self, that
I partake it with you; for, I remember,
in your Last, you told me, you
wou’d wish, we shou’d be both griev’d
at the same Time, and both, at the
same Time, pleas’d; and I believe, I
love too well, not to obey you.

Love Secur’d.

Love, of all Joys, the sweetest is;

The most substantial Happiness:

H3 The H3v 102

The softest Blessing, Life can crave:

The noblest Passion, Souls can have.

Yet, if no Interruptions were,

No Difficulties came between,

’Twou’d not be render’d half so dear.

The Sky is gayest, when small Clouds
are seen.

The sweetest Flower; the blushing
Rose,

Amidst the Thorns, securest grows.

If Love were one continu’d Joy,

How soon the Happiness wou’d cloy!

The wiser Gods did this fore-see;

And, to preserve the Bliss entire,

Mixt it with Doubt and Jealousie,

Those necessary Fuels to the Fire.

Sustain’d H4r 103

Sustain’d the fleeting Pleasures, with
new Fears;

With little Quarrels, Sighs, and
Tears;

With Absence, that tormenting
Smart,

That makes a Minute seem a Day;

A Day, a Year, to the impatient Heart,

That languishes in the Delay,

But cannot sigh the tender Pain away;

That still returns, and with a greater
Force,

Through every Vein, it takes its grateful
Course.

But whatsoe’er the Lover does sustain,

Tho’ he still sigh, complain, and fear,

It cannot be a Mortal Pain,

When two do the Affliction bear.

H4 10 A- H4v 104

10 A-Clock.

Reflections.

After the afflicting Thoughts of
my Absence, make some Reflections
on your Happiness. Think
it a Blessing, to be permitted to love
me: Think it so, because I permit it
to you alone; and never cou’d be
drawn, to allow it any other. The
first Thing you ought to consider is,
that, at length, I have suffer’d my self
to be overcome, to quit that Nicety,
that is natural to me, and receive
your Addresses; nay, thought ’em
agreeable; and that I have, at last,
confest, the Present of your Heart is
very dear to me. ’Tis true, I did
not accept of it the first Time it was
offer’d me, nor before you had told
me a Thousand times, that you cou’d
not escape Expiring, if I did not give
you leave to sigh for me, and gaze
upon me; and that there was an absolutesolute H5r 105
Necessity for me, either to give
you leave to love, or dye. And all
those Rigours, my Severity has made
you suffer, ought now to be re-counted
to your Memory, as Subjects of
Pleasure; and you ought to esteem,
and judge of the Price of my Affections,
by the Difficulties you found, in
being able to touch my Heart: Not
but you have Charms, that can conquer
at first Sight; and you ought
not to have valu’d me less, if I had
been more easily gain’d: But ’tis enough
to please you, to think, and
know, I am gain’d; no matter when,
or how. When, after a Thousand
Cares and Inquietudes, that which
we wish for, succeeds to our Desires,
the Remembrance of those Pains and
Pleasures we encounter’d, in arriving
at it, gives us a new Joy.

Remember also, Damon, that I have
prefer’d you, before all those, that
have been thought worthy of my Esteem;
and that I have shut my Eyes
to all their pleading Merits, and cou’d
survey none, but yours.

Consider H5v 106

Consider then, that you had, not
only the Happiness to please me; but
that you only found out the Way of
doing it; and I had the Goodness, at
last, to tell you so, contrary to all
the Delicacy, and Niceness of my
Soul; contrary to my Prudence, and
all those Scruples, you know, are natural
to my Humour.

My Tenderness proceeded further,
and I gave you innocent Marks of
my new-born Passion, on all Occasions,
that presented themselves: For
after that, from my Eyes and Tongue,
you knew the Sentiments of my
Heart, I confirm’d that Truth to you,
by my Letters. Confess, Damon, that
if you make these Reflections, you
will not pass this Hour very disagreeably.

Beginning Love.

As free as wanton Winds, I liv’d,

That unconcern’d, do play:

No H6r 107

No broken Faith, no Fate I griev’d;

No Fortune gave me Joy.

A dull Content crown’d all my Hours;

My Heart no Sighs opprest:

I call’d in vain on no deaf Pow’rs,

To ease a tortur’d Breast.

The sighing Swains regardless pin’d,

And strove in vain, to please:

With Pain, I civilly was kind;

But cou’d afford no Ease.

Tho’ Wit and Beauty did abound,

The Charm was wanting still,

That cou’d inspire the tender Wound,

Or bend my careless Will.

Till H6v 108

Till in my Heart, a kindling Flame,

Your softer Sighs had blown;

Which I, with striving, Love and
Shame,

Too sensibly did own.

What e’er the God, before cou’d plead;

What e’er the Youth’s Desert;

The feeble Siege in vain was laid,

Against my stubborn Heart.

At first, my Sighs and Blushes spoke,

Just when your Sighs wou’d rise:

And when you gaz’d, I wisht to look;

But durst not meet your Eyes.

I trembled, when my Hand you prest,

Nor cou’d my Guilt controul;

But H7r 109

But Love prevail’d, and I confest

The Secrets of my Soul.

And when, upon the giving Part,

My Present to avow,

By all the Ways, confirm’d my Heart,

That Honour wou’d allow;

Too mean was all that I cou’d say,

Too poorly understood:

I gave my Soul the noblest Way,

My Letters made it good.

You may believe, I did not easily,
nor suddenly, bring my Heart to this
Condescension; but I lov’d, and all
Things in Damon, were capable of
making me resolve so to do. I cou’d
not think it a Crime, where every
Grace, and every Vertue justify’d my Choice: H7v 110
Choice: And when once one is assur’d
of this, we find not much Difficulty
in owning that Passion, which
will so well commend one’s Judgment;
and there is no Obstacle, that
Love does not surmount. I confest
my Weakness a Thousand Ways, before
I told it you, and I remember
all those Things with Pleasure; but
yet I remember ’em also with Shame.

11 A-Clock.

Supper.

I will believe, Damon, that you
have been so well entertain’d,
during this Hour, and have found so
much Sweetness in these Thoughts,
that if one did not tell you, that Supper
waits, you wou’d lose your self
in Reflections so pleasing, many more
Minutes. But you must go, where
you are expected; perhaps among
the Fair, the Young, the Gay; but do H8r 111
do not abandon your Heart to too
much Joy, though you have so much
Reason to be contented: But the greatest
Pleasures are always imperfect.
If the Object be lov’d, do not partake
of it: For this Reason, be chearful;
and merry, with Reserve. Do
not talk too much; I know, you do
not love it; and if you do it, ’twill
be the Effect of too much Complaisance,
or with some Design of Pleasing
too well; for you know your
own charming Power, and how agreeable
your Wit and Conversation
is to all the World. Remember, I
am covetous of every Word you
speak, that is not addrest to me; and
envy the happy Listner, if I am not
by: And I may reply to you, as Aminta
did to Philander, when he
charg’d her of loving a Talker: And
because, perhaps, you have not heard
it, I will, to divert you, send it you;
and at the same time assure you, Damon,
that your more noble Quality,
of Speaking little, has reduc’d me to
a perfect Abhorrence of those Wordy Sparks, H8v 112
Sparks, that value themselves, upon
their Ready, and Much Talking upon
every trivial Subject; and who have
so good an Opinion of their Talent
that Way, they will let no body edge
in a Word, or a Reply; but will
make all the Conversation themselves,
that they may pass for very
Entertaining Persons, and pure Company.
But the Verses――

The Reformation.

Philander, since you’ll have it so;

I grant, I was impertinent;

And, till this Moment, did not
know,

Through all my Life, what ’twas I
meant.

Your kind Opinion was the flattering
Glass,

In which my Mind, found how deform’d
it was.

In I1r 113

In your clear Sense, which knows no
Art,

I saw the Errors of my Soul:

And all the Foibless of my Heart,

With one Reflection, you countroul.

Kind as a God! and gently you chastise:

By what you hate, you teach me to be
wise.

Impertinence, my Sex’s Shame,

That has so long my Life pursu’d,

You with such Modesty reclaim,

As all the Women has subdu’d.

To so Divine a Power, what must I owe,

That renders me so like the Perfect You?

I That I1v 114

That Conversable Thing I hate

Already, with a just Disdain,

That prides himself upon his Prate,

And is, of words, that Nonsence
vain.

When in your few, appears such Excellence,

As have reproacht, and charm’d me
into Sense.

For ever may I list’ning sit,

Tho’ but each Hour, a Word be
born;

I wou’d attend the Coming Wit,

And bless what can so well inform.

Let I2r 115

Let the dull World, henceforth, to
Words be dam’d;

I’m into nobler Sense, than Talking,
sham’d.

I believe you are so good a Lover,
as to be of my Opinion; and that
you will neither force your self against
Nature, nor find much Occasion
to lavish out those excellent
Things, that must proceed from you,
when-ever you speak. If all Women
were like me, I shou’d have more
Reason to fear your Silence, than
your Talk; for you have a Thousand
Ways to charm, without Speaking;
and those which, to me, shew
a great deal more Concern. But,
Damon, you know, the greatest Part
of my Sex, judge the fine Gentleman,
by the Volubility of his Tongue, by
his Dexterity in Repartee; and cry—
“Oh! He never wants fine Things
to say: He’s eternally Talking the
most surprizing Things.”
But, Damon, I2 you I2v 116
you are well assur’d, I hope, that Iris
is none of these Coquets; at least, if
she had any Spark of it once in her
Nature, she is, by the Excellency of
your contrary Temper, taught to
know, and scorn the Folly: And
take heed, your Conduct never give
me Cause to suspect, you have deceiv’d
me in your Temper.

12 A-Clock.

Complaisance.

Nevertheless, Damon, Civility requires
a little Complaisance,
after Supper; and I am assur’d, you
can never want that, though, I confess,
you are not accus’d of too general
a Complaisance; and do not often
make use of it, to those Persons, you
have an Indifference for; though one
is not the less Esteemable, for having
more of this, than one ought; and
though an Excess of it be a Fault, ’tis a very I3r 117
a very excusable one: Have therefore
some for those, with whom you
are: You may laugh with ’em, drink
with ’em, dance or sing with ’em;
yet think of me. You may discourse
of a Thousand indifferent Things
with ’em, and at the same time, still
think of me. If the Subject be any
beautiful Lady, whom they praise, either
for her Person, Wit, or Vertue;
you may apply it to me: And if you
dare not say it aloud, at least, let
your Heart answer in this Language:

Yes, the fair Object, whom you praise,

Can give us Love a Thousand Ways.

Her Wit and Beauty charming are;

But still, my Iris is more fair.

No Body ever spoke before me, of
a faithful Lover, but I still sigh’d, and
thought of Damon: And ever, when
they tell me Tales of Love, any soft
pleasing Intercourses of an Amour; I3 Oh! I3v 118
Oh! with what Pleasure do I listen;
and with Pleasure answer ’em, either
with my Eyes, or Tongue—

That Lover may his Silvia warm;

But cannot, like my Damon, charm.

If I have not all those excellent
Qualities, you meet with in those
beautiful People, I am, however, very
glad, that Love prepossesses your
Heart to my Advantage: And I need
not tell you, Damon, that a true Lover
ought to perswade himself, that
all other Objects ought to give place
to her, for whom his Heart sighs—
But see, my Cupid tells you, ’tis One
a-clock, and that you ought not to
be longer from your Apartment:
Where, while you are Undressing, I
will give you leave to say to your
self—

The I4r 119

The Regret.

Alas! And must the Sun decline,

Before it have inform’d my Eyes

Of all that’s Glorious, all that’s Fine;

Of all I sigh for, all I prize?

How joyful were those happy Days,

When Iris spread her charming Rays,

Did my unwearied Heart inspire,

With never-ceasing awful Fire:

And e’ery Minute gave me new Desire!

But now, alas! All dead and pale,

Like Flow’rs, that wither in the
Shade;

I4 Where I4v 120

Where no kind Sun-beams can prevail,

To raise its cold, and fading
Head;

I sink into my useless Bed.

I grasp the senseless Pillow, as I lye;

A Thousand times, in vain, I sighing,
cry;

“Ah! Wou’d to Heaven, my Iris were
as nigh!

1 A-Clock.

Impossibility to Sleep.

You have been up long enough;
and Cupid, who takes Care of
your Health, tells you, ’tis time for
you to go to Bed. Perhaps you may
not sleep as soon as you are laid; and possibly, I5r 121
possibly, you may pass an Hour in
Bed, before you shut your Eyes. In
this Impossibility of Sleeping, I think
it very proper for you to imagine,
what I am doing; where I am. Let
your Fancy take a little Journey then,
invisible, to observe my Actions, and
my Conduct. You will find me, sitting
alone in my Cabinet (for I am
one that do not love to go to Bed
early) and will find me very uneasie,
and pensive; pleas’d with none
of those Things, that so well entertain
others. I shun all Conversation,
as far as Civility will allow; and
find no Satisfaction, like being alone;
where my Soul may, without Interruption,
converse with Damon. I
sigh; and sometimes, you will see
my Cheeks wet with Tears, that insensibly
glide down, at a Thousand
Thoughts, that present themselves
soft, and afflicting. I partake of all
your Inquietude. On other Things,
I think with Indifference, if ever my
Thoughts do stray from the more
agreeable Object. I find, however, a little I5v 122
little Sweetness in this Thought, that,
during my Absence, your Heart
thinks of me, when mine sighs for
you. Perhaps, I am mistaken; and
that, at the same Time, that you are
the Entertainment of all my Thoughts,
I am no more in yours: And perhaps,
you are thinking of those
Things, that immortalize the Young,
and Brave; either by those Glories,
the Muses flatter you with; or that
of Bellona, and the God of War; and
Serving now a Monarch, whose Glorious
Acts in Arms, has out-gone all
the feign’d, and real Heroes of any
Age; who has, himself, out-done
what-ever History can produce, of
Great and Brave; and set so Illustrious
an Example to the Under-World, that
it is not impossible, as much a Lover
as you are, but you are thinking now,
how to render your self worthy the
Glory of such a God-like Master, by
projecting a Thousand Things of
Gallantry, and Danger. And though,
I confess, such Thoughts are proper
for your Youth, your Quality, and the I6r 123
the Place you have the Honour to
hold, under our Soveraign; yet, let
me tell you, Damon, you will not be
without Inquietude, if you think of
either being a delicate Poet, or a
brave Warrior; for Love will still interrupt
your Glory, however you
may think to divert him; either by
Writing, or Fighting. And you ought
to remember these Verses,

Love and Glory.

Beneath the kind protecting Lawrel’s
Shade,

For sighing Lovers, and for Warriors
made,

The soft Adonis, and rough Mars were
laid.

Both were design’d to take their Rest;

But Love, the Gentle Boy, opprest,

And false Alarms shook the stern Hero’s
Breast.

This I6v 124

This, thinks to soften all his Toyls of
War,

In the dear Arms of the obliging Fair:

And That, by Hunting, to divert his
Care.

All Day, o’er Hills and Plains, Wild
Beasts he chac’t;

Swift, as the flying Winds, his eager
Haste,

In vain! The God of Love pursues as
fast.

But Oh! No Sports, no Toyls divertive
prove:

The Evening still returns him to the
Grove,

To sigh, and languish for the Queen of
Love.

Where I7r 125

Where Elogies, and Sonnets, he does
frame;

And to the list’ning Ecchoes sighs her
Name;

And on the Trees carves Records of
his Flame.

The Warrior, in the Dusty Camp all
Day;

With ratling Drums, and Trumpets,
does essay,

To fright the Tender Flatt’ring God
away.

But still, alas, in vain! What ere Delight,

What Care he takes the wanton Boy to
fright;

Love still revenges it at Night.

’Tis I7v 126

’Tis then, he haunts the Royal Tent;

The sleeping Hours, in Sighs are
spent;

And all his Resolutions does prevent.

In all his Pains, Love mixt his
Smart:

In every Wound, he feels a Dart;

And the soft God is trembling in his
Heart.

Then he retires to shady Groves;

And there, in vain, he seeks Repose;

And strives to fly from what he cannot
lose.

While I8r 127

While thus he lay, Bellona came;

And with a generous fierce Disdain,

Upbraids him with his feeble Flame.

Arise! The World’s great Terrour,
and their Care!

Behold the glitt’ring Host from
far,

That waits the Conduct of the God of
War.

Beneath these Glorious Lawrels, which
were made,

To crown the noble Victor’s Head;

Why thus Supinely art thou laid?

Why I8v 128

Why on that Face, where Awful Terrour
grew,

Thy Sun-parcht Cheeks; why do I
view

The shining Tracts of falling Tears bedew?

What God has wrought these universal
Harms?

What fatal Nymph; What fatal
Charms

Has made the Heroe deaf to War’s
Alarms?

Now let the Conqu’ring Ensigns up be
furl’d:

Learn to be gay, be soft, and curl’d;

And Idle, lose the Empire of the
World.

In K1r 129

In fond Effeminate Delights go on:

Lose all the Glories, you have won:

Bravely resolve to love, and be undone.

’Tis thus the Martial Virgin pleads:

Thus she the Am’rous God perswades,

To fly from Venus, and the flow’ry
Meads.

You see here, that Poets and Warriors
are oftentimes in Affliction, even
under the Shades of their Protecting-
Lawrels; and let the Nymphs and
Virgins sing what they please to
their Memory, under the Mirtles, and
on Flowery Beds; much better Days,
than in the Campagne. Nor do the
Crowns of Glory surpass those of
Love: The First is but an empty
Name, which is won, kept, and lost
with Hazard; but Love more nobly K employs K1v 130
employs a brave Soul, and all his
Pleasures are solid and lasting; and
when one has a worthy Object of
one’s Flame, Glory accompanies
Love too. But go to sleep, the Hour
is come; and ’tis now, that your
Soul ought to be entertain’d in
Dreams.

2 A-Clock.

Conversation in Dreams.

I doubt not, but you will think it
very bold and arbitrary, that my
Watch shou’d pretend to rule even your
sleeping Hours, and that my Cupid
shou’d govern your very Dreams;
which are but Thoughts disorder’d,
in which Reason has no Part; Chimera’s
of the Imagination, and no
more: But though my Watch does
not pretend to counsel unreasonably,
yet you must allow it here; if not
to pass the Bounds, at least, to advancevance K2r 131
to the utmost Limits of it. I
am assur’d, that after having thought
so much of me in the Day, you will
think of me also in the Night. And
the first Dream my Watch permits
you to make, is to think you are in
Conversation with me.

Imagine, Damon, that you are talking
to me of your Passion, with all
the Transport of a Lover; and that I
hear you with Satisfaction: That all
my Looks and Blushes, while you are
speaking, gives you new Hopes, and
Assurances, that you are not indifferent
to me; and that I give you a
Thousand Testimonies of my Tenderness,
all Innocent, and Obliging.

While you are saying all that Love
can dictate, all that Wit and good
Manners can invent, and all that I
wish to hear from Damon, believe,
in this Dream, all flattering and dear;
that after having shew’d me the Ardour
of your Flame, that I confess to
you the Bottom of my Heart, and all
the loving Secrets there; that I give
you Sigh for Sigh, Tenderness for K2 Ten- K2v 132
Tenderness, Heart for Heart, and
Pleasure for Pleasure. And I wou’d
have your Sense of this Dream so perfect,
and your Joy so entire, that if it
happen you shou’d awake, with the
Satisfaction from this Dream, you
shou’d find your Heart still panting
with the soft Pleasure of the dear deceiving
Transport, and you shou’d
be ready to cry out――

Ah! How sweet it is to dream,

When charming Iris is the Theam!

For such, I wish, my Damon, your
sleeping, and your waking Thoughts
shou’d render me to your Heart.

3 A- K3r 133

3 A-Clock.

Capricious Suffering in Dreams.

It is but just, to mix a little Chagrin
with these Pleasures, a little
Bitter with your Sweet; you may be
cloy’d with too long an Imagination
of my Favours: And I will have your
Fancy in Dreams, represent me to it,
as the most capricious Maid in the
World. I know, here you will accuse
my Watch, and blame me with
unnecessary Cruelty, as you will call
it; but Lovers have their little Ends,
their little Advantages, to pursue by
Methods wholly unaccountable to all,
but that Heart that contrives ’em:
And, as good a Lover as I believe
you, you will not enter into my Design
at first Sight; and though, on
reasonable Thoughts, you will be satisfy’d
with this Conduct of mine, at
its first Approach, you will be ready
to cry out!――

K3 The K3v 134

The Request.

Oh Iris! Let my sleeping Hours be
fraught

With Joys, which you deny my waking
Thought.

Is’t not enough, you absent are?

Is’t not enough, I sigh all Day;

And languish out my Life in Care:

To e’ery Passion made a Prey?

I burn with Love, and soft Desire;

I rave with Jealousie and Fear:

All Day, for Ease, my Soul I tire;

In vain I search it e’ery where:

It dwells not with the Witty, or the
Fair.

It K4r 135

It is not in the Camp, or Court;

In Bus’ness, Musick, or in Sport:

The Plays, the Park, and Mall afford

No more than the dull Basset-board.

The Beauties in the Drawing-room,

With all their Sweetness, all their
Bloom,

No more my faithful Eyes invite,

Nor rob my Iris of a Sigh, or Glance;

Unless soft Thoughts of her incite

A Smile, or trivial Complaisance.

Then since my Days so anxious prove,

Ah, cruel Tyrant! Give

A little Loose to Joys in Love;

And let your Damon live.

K4 Let K4v 136

Let him in Dreams be happy made;

And let his Sleep some Bliss provide:

The nicest Maid may yield, in Night’s
dark Shade,

What she so long, by Day-light, had
deny’d.

There let me think, you present are;

And court my Pillow, for my Fair.

There let me find you kind, and that
you give

All that a Man of Honour dares receive.

And may my Eyes eternal Watches
keep,

Rather than want that Pleasure, when
I sleep.

Some K5r 137

Some such Complaint as this, I
know you will make; but, Damon,
if the little Quarrels of Lovers render
the reconciling Moments so infinitely
Charming, you must needs allow,
that these little Chagrins in capricious
Dreams, must awaken you to
more Joy, to find ’em but Dreams,
than if you had met with no Disorder
there. ’Tis for this Reason, that
I wou’d have you suffer a little Pain,
for a coming Pleasure; nor, indeed,
is it possible for you to escape the
Dreams, my Cupid points you out. You
shall dream, that I have a Thousand
Foiblesses, something of the Lightness
of my Sex; that my Soul is employ’d
in a Thousand Vanities; that,
(proud and fond of Lovers) I make
Advances for the Glory of a Slave,
without any other Interest, or Design,
than that of being ador’d. I
will give you leave to think my Heart
fickle; and that, far from resigning it
to any one, I lend it only for a Day,
or an Hour, and take it back at Pleasure;
that I am a very Coquet, even to
Impertinence.

All K5v 138

All this I give you leave to think,
and to offend me; but ’tis in Sleep
only, that I permit it; for I wou’d
never pardon you the least Offence of
this Nature, if in any other Kind,
than in a Dream. Nor is it enough
Affliction to you, to imagin me thus
idly vain; but you are to pass on, to
a Hundred more capricious Humours;
as that I exact of you a Hundred unjust
Things; that I pretend, you shou’d
break off with all your Friends, and,
for the future, have none at all; that
I will, my self, do those Things,
which I violently condemn in you;
and that I will have for others, as well
as you, that tender Friendship that resembles
Love; or rather, that Love,
which People call Friendship; and
that I will not, after all, have you
dare complain on me.

In fine, be as ingenious as you please,
to torment your self; and believe,
that I am become unjust, ungrateful,
and insensible: But were I so indeed,
O Damon! consider your awaking
Heart, and tell me; Wou’d your Love stand K6r 139
stand the Proof of all these Faults in
me? But know, that I wou’d have
you believe, I have none of these
Weaknesses, though I am not wholly
without Faults, but those will be excusable
to a Lover; and this Notion
I have of a perfect one;

What e’er fantastick Humours rule the
Fair,

She’s still the Lover’s Dote-age, and
his Care.

4 A-Clock.

Jealousie in Dreams.

Do not think, Damon, to wake
yet; for I design you shall
yet suffer a little more: Jealousie must
now possess you; that Tyrant over
the Heart, that compels your very
Reason, and seduces all your good Nature. K6v 140
Nature. And in this Dream, you
must believe That in Sleeping, which
you cou’d not do me the Injustice to
do, when awake. And here you must
explain all my Actions to the utmost
Disadvantage: Nay, I will wish, that
the Force of this Jealousie may be so
extream, that it may make you languish
in Grief, and be overcome with
Anger.

You shall now imagine, that one
of your Rivals is with me, interrupting
all you say, or hindring all you
wou’d say; that I have no Attention
to what you say aloud to me, but
that I incline my Ear, to hearken to
all that he whispers to me. You shall
repine, that he pursues me every
where; and is eternally at your Heels,
if you approach me: That I caress
him with Sweetness in my Eyes, and
that Vanity in my Heart, that possesses
the Humours of almost all the
Fair; that is, to believe it greatly for
my Glory, to have abundance of Rivals,
for my Lovers. I know, you
love too well, not to be extreamly uneasie K7r 141
uneasie in the Company of a Rival,
and to have one perpetually near me;
for let him be belov’d, or not, by the
Mistress, it must be confest, a Rival
is a very troublesome Person: But, to
afflict you to the utmost, I will have
you imagine, that my Eyes approve
of all his Thoughts; that they flatter
him with Hopes, and that I have taken
away my Heart from you, to
make a Present of it to this more lucky
Man. You shall suffer, while possest
with this Dream, all that a cruel
Jealousie can make a tender Soul suffer.

The Torment.

O Jealousie! Thou Passion most ingrate!

Tormenting as Despair, envious as Hate!

Spightful as Witchcraft, which th’ Invoker
harms:

Worse than the Wretch that suffers by
its Charms.

Thou K7v 142

Thou subtil Poyson in the Fancy bred;

Diffus’d through every Vein, the
Heart, and Head;

And over all, like wild Contagion,
spread.

Thou, whose sole Property is to destroy;

Thou Opposite to Good, Antipathy to Joy;

Whose Attributes are cruel, Rage, and
Fire;

Reason debaucht, false Sense, and mad
Desire.

In fine, It is a Passion, that ruffles
all the Senses, and disorders the whole
Frame of Nature. It makes one hear
and see, what was never spoke, and
what never was in view. ’Tis the
Bane of Health and Beauty, an unmannerly
Intruder; and an Evil of
Life, worse than Death. She is a very
cruel Tyrant in the Heart; she possesses K8r 143
possesses, and pierces it with infinite
Unquiets: And we may lay it down,
as a certain Maxim,――

She that wou’d wreck a Lover’s Heart

To the Extent of Cruelty,

Must his Tranquility subvert

To tort’ring Jealousie.

I speak too sensibly of this Passion,
not to have lov’d well enough, to have
been toucht with it: And you shall
be this unhappy Lover, Damon, during
this Dream; in which, nothing
shall present it self to your tumultuous
Thoughts, that shall not bring its
Pain. You shall here pass and re-pass
a Hundred Designs, that shall confound
one another. In fine, Damon,
Anger, Hatred, and Revenge shall surround
your Heart.

There K8v 144

There they shall, all together reign

With mighty Force, with mighty
Pain;

In Spight of Reason, in Contempt of
Love:

Sometimes by Turns, sometimes united
move.

5 A-Clock.

Quarrels in Dreams.

I perceive you are not able to suffer
all this Injustice, nor can I
permit it any longer; and though
you commit no Crime your self, yet
you believe, in this Dream, that I
complain of Injuries you do my Fame;
and that I am extreamly angry with
a Jealousie so prejudicial to my Honour.
Upon this Belief, you accuse me L1r 145
me of Weakness; you resolve to see
me no more, and are making a Thousand
feeble Vows against Love! You
esteem me as a false One, and resolve
to cease loving the vain Coquet; and
will say to me, as a certain Friend of
yours said to his false Mistress,

The Inconstant

“Though Silvia, you are very fair, Yet disagreeable to me: And since you so inconstant are, Your Beauty’s damn’d with Levity. Your Wit, your most offensive Arms, For want of Judgment, wants its
Charms.
To every Lover, that is new, All new and charming you surprize; L But L1v 146 But when your fickle Mind they view, They shun the Danger of your Eyes. Shou’d you a Miracle of Beauty show; Yet you’re inconstant, and will still be so.”

’Tis thus you will think of me:
And in fine, Damon, during this
Dream, we are in a perpetual State of
War.

Thus both resolve to break their
Chain,

And think to do’t without much
Pain:

But Oh! Alas! We strive in vain.

For Lovers, of themselves, can nothing
do:

There must be the Consent of two:

You give it me, and I must give it you.

And L2r 147

And if we shall never be free, till
we acquit one another, this Tye between
you and I, Damon, is likely to
last as long as we live: Therefore in
vain you endeavor, but can never
attain your End: And in Conclusion,
you will say, in thinking of me;

Oh! How at Ease my Heart wou’d live,

Cou’d I renounce this Fugitive;

This dear, (but false) attracting Maid,

That has her Vows and Faith betray’d!

Reason wou’d have it so; but Love

Dares not the dang’rous Tryal prove.

Do not be angry then, for this afflicting
Hour is drawing to and End,
and you ought not to despair of coming
into my absolute Favour again.

L2 Then L2v 148

Then do not let your murm’ring
Heart,

Against my Int’rest, take your Part.

The Feud was rais’d by Dreams, all
false and vain,

And the next Sleep shall reconcile
again.

6 A-Clock.

Accommodation in Dreams.

Though the angry Lovers force
themselves, all they can, to
chace away the troublesome Tenderness
of the Heart, in the height of
their Quarrels, Love sees all their Sufferings,
pities and redresses ’em: And
when we begin to cool, and a soft
Repentance follows the Chagrin of
the Love-Quarrel, ’tis then, that Love takes L3r 149
takes the Advantage of both Hearts,
and renews the charming Friendship
more forcibly than ever, puts a stop
to all our Feuds, and renders the
Peace-making Minutes, the most dear
and tender part of our Life. How
pleasing ’tis to see your Rage dissolve!
How sweet, how soft is every Word,
that pleads for Pardon at my Feet!
’Tis there, that you tell me, your very
Sufferings are over-paid, when I
but assure you from my Eyes, that I
will forget your Crime: And your
Imagination shall here present me, the
most sensible of your past Pain, that
you can wish; and that, all my Anger
being vanisht, I give you a Thousand
Marks of my Faith and Gratitude;
and lastly, to crown all, that
we again make new Vows to one another,
of inviolable Peace.

After these Debates of Love,

Lovers Thousand Pleasures prove;

Which they ever think to taste,

Tho’ oftentimes they do not last.

L3 Enjoy L3v 150

Enjoy then all the Pleasures, that
a Heart that is very amorous, and
very tender, can enjoy. Think no
more on those Inquietudes that you
have suffer’d, bless Love for his Favours,
and thank me for my Graces;
and resolve to endure any thing, rather
than enter upon any new Quarrels.
And however dear the reconciling
Moments are, there proceeds a
great deal of Evil from these little
frequent Quarrels; and I think, the
best counsel we can follow, is to avoid
’em, as near as we can: And if we
cannot, but that, in spight of Love,
and good Understanding, they shou’d
break out, we ought to make as speedy
a Peace as possible; for ’tis not
good to grate the Heart too long, lest
it grow harden’d insensibly, and lose
its native Temper. A few Quarrels
there must be in Love; Love cannot
support it self without ’em; and besides
the Joy of an Accommodation,
Love becomes by it more strongly
united, and more charming. Therefore
let the Lover receive this, as a cer- L4r 151
a certain Receipt against declining
Love.

Love reconcil’d.

He that wou’d have the Passion be

Entire between the Am’rous Pair,

Let not the little Feuds of Jealousie

Be carry’d on to a Despair:

That pauls the Pleasure he wou’d
raise;

The Fire that he wou’d blow, allays.

When Understandings false arise,

When misinterpreted your Thought;

If false Conjectures of your Smiles and
Eyes

Be up to baneful Quarrel wrought;

L4 Let L4v 152

Let Love the kind Occasion take,

And strait Accommodation make.

The sullen Lover, long unkind,

Ill-natur’d, hard to reconcile,

Loses the Heart he had inclin’d;

Love cannot undergo long Toil:

He’s soft and sweet, not born to bear

The rough Fatigues of painful War.

7 A-Clock.

Divers Dreams.

Behold, Damon, the last Hour of
your Sleep, and of my Watch.
She leaves you at liberty now, and
you may chuse your Dreams: Trust
’em to your Imaginations, give a Loose to L5r 153
to Fancy, and let it rove at Will;
provided, Damon, it be always guided
by a respectful Love. For thus
far I pretend to give Bounds to your
Imagination, and will not have it pass
beyond ’em: Take heed, in Sleeping,
you give no Ear to a flattering Cupid,
that will favour your slumbring Minutes,
with Lies too pleasing and vain:
You are discreet enough, when you
are awake; Will you not be so in
Dreams?

Damon, awake: My Watch’s Course
is done. After this, you cannot be
ignorant of what you ought to do,
during my Absence. I did not believe
it necessary to caution you about
Balls and Comedies: You know, a
Lover, depriv’d of his Mistress, goes
seldom there. But if you cannot handsomly
avoid these Diversions, I am
not so unjust a Mistress, to be angry
with you for it. Go, if Civility, or
other Duties, oblige you: I will only
forbid you, in Consideration of
me, not to be too much satisfy’d with
those Pleasures; but see ’em so, as the World L5v 154
World may have Reason to say, you
do not seek ’em; you do not make a
Business, or a Pleasure of ’em; and
that ’tis Complaisance, and not Inclination,
that carries you thither. Seem
rather negligent, than concern’d at
any Thing there; and let every Part
of you say, “Iris is not here.――”

I say nothing to you neither, of your
Duty elsewhere; I am satisfy’d, you
know it too well, and have too great a
Veneration for your Glorious Master,
to neglect any part of that, for even
Love it self! And I very well know,
how much you love to be eternally
near his Illustrious Person; and that
you scarce prefer your Mistress before
him, in point of Love: In all things
else, I give him leave to take place of
Iris, in the noble Heart of Damon.

I am satisfy’d, you pass your Time
well now at Windsor, for you adore
that Place; and ’tis not, indeed, without
great Reason; for ’tis, most certainly,
now render’d, the most glorious
Palace in the Christian World.
And had our late Gracious Soveraign of L6r 155
of blessed Memory had no other Miracles
and Wonders of his Life and
Reign, to have immortaliz’d his Fame,
(of which there shall remain a Thousand
to Posterity:) This noble Structure
alone, this Building (almost
Divine) wou’d have Eterniz’d the
great Name of Glorious Charles the
Second
, till the World moulder again
to its old Confusion, its first Chaos.
And the Paintings of the famous Vario,
and noble Carvings of the unimitable
Gibon, shall never dye; but
remain, to tell succeeding Ages, that
all Arts and Learning were not confin’d
to ancient Rome, and Greece;
but that England too cou’d boast its
mightiest Share. Nor is the In-side
of this magnificent Structure, immortaliz’d
with so many eternal Images
of the Illustrious Charles and Katherine,
more to be admir’d, than the
wondrous Prospects without. The
stupendious Heighth, on which the
famous Pile is built, renders the
Fields, and Flowery Meads below, the
Woods, the Thickets, and the windinging L6v 156
Streams, the most delightful
Object, that ever Nature produc’d.
Beyond all these, and far below,
in an inviting Vale, the venerable
Colledge, an old, but noble Building,
raises it self, in the midst of all
the Beauties of Nature; high-grown
Trees, fruitful Plains, purling Rivulets,
and spacious Gardens; adorn’d
with all Variety of Sweets, that can
delight the Senses.

At farther distance yet, on an Ascent,
almost as high as that to the
Royal Structure, you may behold
that famous and noble Clifdon rise;
a Palace erected by the Illustrious
Duke of Buckingham: Who will leave
this wondrous Piece of Architecture,
to inform the future World, of the
Greatness and Delicacy of his Mind;
it being, for its Situation, its Prospects,
and its marvellous Contrivances,
one of the finest Villa’s of the
World; at least, were it finished, as
begun; and wou’d sufficiently declare
the Magnifick Soul of the Hero, that
caus’d it to be built, and contriv’d all its L7r 157
its Fineness. And this makes up not
the least Part of the beautiful Prospect
from the Palace-Royal, while on the
other side, lies spread a fruitful, and
delightful Park and Forest, well stor’d
with Deer, and all that make the Prospect
charming; fine Walks, Groves,
distant Vallies, Downs, and Hills, and
all that Nature cou’d invent, to furnish
out a quiet, soft Retreat, for the
most Fair, and most Charming of
Queens, and the most Heroick, Good,
and Just of Kings: And these Groves
alone, are fit and worthy to divert
such Earthly Gods.

Nor can Heaven, Nature, or Humane
Art contrive an Addition to this
Earthly Paradise, unless those great Inventors
of the Age, Sir Samuel Morland,
or Sir Robert Gorden, cou’d, by
the power of Engines, convey the
Water so into the Park and Castle, as
to furnish it with the delightful Fountains,
both useful and beautiful. These
are only wanting, to render the Place
All Perfection, without Exception.

This, L7v 158

This, Damon, is a long Digression
from the Business of my Heart; but
you know, I am so in Love with that
charming Court, that when you gave
me an Occasion, by your being there
now, but to name the Place, I cou’d
not forbear transgressing a little, in
favour of its wond’rous Beauty; and
the rather, because I wou’d, in recounting
it, give you to understand,
how many fine Objects there are, besides
the Ladies that adorn it, to employ
your vacant Moments in; and
hope you will, without my Instructions,
pass a great part of your idle
Time, in surveying these Prospects;
and give that Admiration you shou’d
pay to living Beauty, to those more
venerable Monuments of everlasting
Fame.

Neither need I, Damon, assign you
your waiting Times; your Honour,
Duty, Love, and Obedience will instruct
you, when to be near the Person
of the King; and I believe, you
will omit no part of that Devoir.
You ought to establish your Fortune, and L8r 159
and your Glory: For I am not of the
Mind of those Critical Lovers, who
believe it a very hard Matter to reconcile
Love and Interest; to adore
a Mistress, and serve a Master at the
same time. And I have heard those,
who, on this Subject, say, “Let a
Man be never so careful in these
double Duties, ’tis Ten to One, but
he loses his Fortune, or his Mistress.”

These are Errors that I condemn:
And I know, that Love and Ambition
are not incompatible; but that
a brave Man may preserve all his Duties
to his Soveraign, and his Passion,
and his Respect for his Mistress. And
this is my Notion of it.

Love and Ambition.

The Noble Lover, who wou’d prove

Uncommon in Address;

Let him Ambition joyn with Love;

With Glory, Tenderness:

But L8v 160

But let the Vertues so be mixt,

That when to Love he goes,

Ambition may not come betwixt,

Nor Love his Power oppose.

The vacant Hours from softer Sport,

Let him give up to Int’rest, and the
Court.

’Tis Honour shall his Bus’ness be,

And Love, his noblest Play:

Those two shou’d never disagree;

For both make either Gay.

Love without Honour, were too mean

For any gallant Heart;

And Honour singly, but a Dream,

Where Love must have no Part.

A M1r 161

A Flame like this, you cannot fear,

Where Glory claims and equal Share.

Such a Passion, Damon, can never
make you quit any Part of your Duty
to your Prince. And the Monarch,
you serve, is so gallant a Master, that
the Inclination you have to his Person,
obliges you to serve him, as much
as your Duty; for Damon’s Loyal
Soul loves the Man, and adores the
Monarch; for he is certainly, all that
compels both, by a charming Force
and Goodness from all Mankind.

The King.

Darling of Mars! Belonna’s Care!

The second Deity of War!

Delight of Heaven, and Joy of Earth!

Born for great and wonderous
Things!

M De- M1v 162

Destin’d, at his Auspicious Birth,

T’out-do the num’rous Race of long-past
Kings.

Best Representative of Heaven;

To whom its chiefest Attributes are
given!

Great, Pious, Stedfast, Just, and
Brave!

To Vengeance slow, but swift to save!

Dispencing Mercy all abroad!

Soft and Forgiving, as a God!

Thou Saving Angel, who preserv’st the
Land

From the Just Rage of the Avenging
Hand:

Stopt the dire Plague, that o’er the
Earth was hurl’d!

And sheathing thy Almighty Sword,

Calm’d M2r 163

Calm’d the wild Fears of a distracted
World,

(As Heaven first made it) with a Sacred
Word!

But I will stop the low Flight of
my humble Muse; who, when she is
upon the Wing, on this Glorious Subject,
knows no Bounds. And all the
World has agreed to say so much of
the Vertues and Wonders of this great
Monarch, that they have left me nothing
new to say; though indeed, he
every day gives us new Theams of
his growing Greatness; and we see
nothing that equals him, in our Age.
Oh! How happy are we, to obey his
Laws; for he is the greatest of Kings,
and the best of Men!

You will be very unjust, Damon, if
you do not confess, I have acquitted
my self like a Maid of Honour, of all
the Obligations I owe you, upon the
Account of the Discretion I lost to
you. If it be not valuable enough, M2 I am M2v 164
I am generous enough to make it
good: And since I am so willing to
be just, you ought to esteem me, and
to make it your chiefest Care to preserve
me yours; for I believe, I shall
deserve it, and wish you shou’d believe
so too. Remember me, write
to me, and observe punctually all the
Motions of my Watch: The more
you regard it, the better you will like
it; and whatever you think of it at
first sight, ’tis no ill Present. The Invention
is soft and gallant; and Germany,
so celebrated for rare Watches,
can produce nothing to equal this.

Damon, my Watch is just, and new:

And all a Lover ought to do,

My Cupid faithfully will shew.

And every Hour he renders there,

Except L’heure du Bergere.

The End of the Watch.

The M3r 165

The
Case
for the
Watch.

Damon to Iris.

Expect not, O charming Iris!
that I shou’d chuse Words to
thank you in; (Words, that
least Part of Love, and least
the Business of the Lover;) but will
say all, and every thing, that a tenderM3 der M3v 166
Heart can dictate, to make an
Acknowledgment for so dear and precious
a Present, as this of your charming
Watch; while all I can say, will
but too dully express my Sense of
Gratitude, my Joy, and the Pleasure
I receive in the mighty Favour. I
confess the Present too rich, too gay,
and too magnificent for my Expectation;
and though my Love and Faith
deserve it, yet my humbler Hope never
durst carry me to a Wish of so
great a Bliss, so great an Acknowledgment
from the Maid I adore! The
Materials are glorious, the Work
delicate, and the Movement just;
and even gives Rules to my Heart,
who shall observe very exactly, all
that the Cupid remarks to me, even
to the Minutes, which I will point
with Sighs, though I am oblig’d to
’em there, but every Half-hour.――

You tell me, fair Iris, that I ought to
preserve it tenderly, and yet you have
sent it me without a Case. But that
I may obey you justly, and keep it
dear to me, as long as I live, I will give M4r 167
give it a Case of my Fashion: It shall
be delicate, and sutable to the fine
Present; of such Materials too. But
because I wou’d have it perfect, I will
consult your admirable Wit, and Invention,
in an Affair of so curious a
Consequence.

The Figure of the Case.

I design to give it the Figure of a
Heart. Does not your Watch,
Iris, rule the Heart? It was your
Heart that contriv’d it, and ’twas
your Heart you consulted, in all the
Management of it; and ’twas your
Heart that brought it to so fine a
Conclusion. The Heart never acts
without Reason, and all the Heart
projects, it performs with Pleasure.

Your Watch, my lovely Maid, has
explain’d to me a World of rich Secrets
of Love: And where shou’d
Thoughts so sacred be stor’d, but in M4 the M4v 168
the Heart, where all the Secrets of the
Soul are treasur’d up; and of which,
only Love alone can take a View?
’Tis thence he takes his Sighs and
Tears, and all his little Flatteries, and
Arts to please. All his fine Thoughts,
and all his mighty Raptures, nothing
is so proper as the Heart, to preserve
it; nothing so worthy as the Heart,
to contain it; and it concerns my Interest
too much, not to be infinitely
careful of so dear a Treasure: And,
believe me, charming Iris, I will never
part with it.

The Votary.

Fair Goddess of my just Desire,

Inspirer of my softest Fire!

Since you, from out the num’rous
Throng,

That to your Altars do belong,

To M5r 169

To me the sacred Myst’ry have reveal’d,

From all my Rival Worshippers conceal’d;

And toucht my Soul with Heavenly
Fire:

Refin’d it from its grosser Sense,

And wrought it to a higher Excellence;

It can no more return to Earth,

Like Things that thence receive
their Birth:

But still aspiring, upward move,

And teach the World, new Flights
of Love.

New Arts of Secresie shall learn,

And render Youth discreet in Love’s
Concern.

In M5v 170

In his soft Heart, to hide the charming
Things,

A Mistress whispers to his Ear;

And e’ery tender Sigh she brings,

Mix with his Soul, and hide it there.

To bear himself so well in Company,

That if his Mistress present be,

It may be thought by all the Fair,

Each in his Heart does claim a
Share,

And all are more belov’d than She.

But when with the dear Maid apart,

Then at her Feet the Lover lies;

Opens his Soul, shews all his Heart,

While Joy is dancing in his Eyes.

Then M6r 171

Then all that Honour may, or take, or
give,

They both distribute, both receive.

A Looker on wou’d spoyl a Lover’s
Joy;

For Love’s a Game, where only Two
can play.

And ’tis the hardest of Love’s Mysteries,

To feign Love where it is not, hide it
where it is.

After having told you, my lovely
Iris, that I design to put your Watch
into a Heart, I ought to shew you
the Ornaments of the Case. I do
intend to have ’em Crown’d Cyphers.
I do not mean those Crowns of
Vanity, which are put indifferently
on all sorts of Cyphers: No, I must
have such, as may distinguish mine
from the rest; and may be true Emblemsblems M6v 172
of what I wou’d represent.
My four Cyphers, therefore, shall be
crown’d with these four Wreaths; of
Olive, Laurel, Myrtle, and Roses:
And the Letters that begin the Names
of Iris and Damon, shall compose the
Cyphers; though I must intermix
some other Letters, that bear another
Sense, and have another Signification.

The first Cypher.

The first Cypher is compos’d of an
I, and a D, which are joyn’d by
an L, and an E: Which signifies,
Love Extream. And ’tis but just, O
adorable Iris! that Love shou’d be
mixt with our Cyphers, and that Love
alone shou’d be the Union of ’em.

Love ought alone the Mystick Knot to
tye;

Love, that great Master of all Arts:

And M7r 173

And this dear Cypher, is to let you
see,

Love unites Names, as well as
Hearts.

Without this charming Union, our
Souls cou’d not communicate those
invisible Sweetnesses, which compleat
the Felicity of Lovers; and which,
the most tender, and passionate Expressions
are too feeble to make us
comprehend. But, my adorable Iris,
I am contented with the vast Pleasure
I feel, in Loving well, without the
Care of Expressing it well; if you will
imagine my Pleasure, without expressing
it. For I confess, ’twou’d be no
Joy to me, to adore you, if you did
not perfectly believe, I did adore you.
Nay, though you lov’d me, if you
had no Faith in me, I shou’d languish,
and love in as much Pain, as if you
scorn’d, and at the same time believ’d
I dy’d for you. For surely, Iris, ’tis
a greater Pleasure to please, than to be M7v 174
be pleas’d; and the Glorious Power
of Giving, is infinitely a greater Satisfaction,
than that of Receiving; there
is so great and God-like a Quality in
it. I wou’d have your Belief therefore,
equal to my Passion, extream;
as indeed, all Love shou’d be, or it
cannot bear that Divine Name: It
can pass but for an indifferent Affection.
And these Cyphers ought to
make the World find all the noble
Force of delicate Passion. For, O my
Iris! what wou’d Love signifie, if we
did not love fervently. Sisters and
Brothers love; Friends and Relations
have Affections; but where the Souls
are joyn’d, which are fill’d with Eternal
soft Wishes. Oh there is some Excess
of Pleasure, which cannot be exprest!

Your Looks, your dear obliging
Words, and your charming Letters
have sufficiently perswaded me of your
Tenderness; and you might surely
see the Excess of my Passion, by my
Cares, my Sighs, and entire Resignation
to your Will. I never think of Iris M8r 175
Iris, but my Heart feels double
Flames, and pants and heaves with
double Sighs; and whose Force
makes its Ardours known, by a
Thousand Transports: And they are
very much too blame, to give the
Name of Love to feeble, easie Passions:
Such Transitory Tranquil Inclinations
are, at best, but Well-
wishers to Love; and a Heart that
has such Heats as those, ought not
to put it self into the Rank of those
nobler Victims, that are offer’d at
the Shrine of Love. But our Souls,
Iris, burn with a more glorious
Flame, that lights and conducts us
beyond a Possibility of losing one
another. ’Tis this that flatters all
my Hopes: ’Tis this alone makes
me believe my self worthy of Iris:
And let her judge of its Violence,
by the Greatness of its Splendour.

Does not a Passion of this Nature,
so true, so ardent, deserve to be
crown’d? And will you wonder to
see, over this Cypher, a Wreath of Mirtles, M8v 176
Mirtles, those Boughs, so sacred to
the Queen of Love, and so worshipt
by Lovers? ’Tis with these soft
Wreaths, that those are crown’d, who
understand how to love well, and
faithfully.

The Smiles, the Graces, and the
Sports,

That in the sacred Groves maintain
their Courts,

Are with these Myrtles crown’d.

Thither the Nymphs, their Garlands
bring;

Their Beauties, and their Praises
sing,

While Ecchoes do the Songs resound.

Love, tho’ a God, with Mirtle
Wreaths,

Does his soft Temples bind.

More N1r 177

More valu’d are those consecrated
Leaves,

Than the bright Wealth, in Eastern
Rocks confin’d:

And Crowns of Glory less Ambition
move,

Than those more sacred Diadems of
Love.

The second Cypher

Is crown’d with Olives; and I
add to the two Letters of our
names, an R and an L, for Reciprocal
Love
. Every time that I have given
you, O lovely Iris! Testimonies
of my Passion, I have been so blest,
as to receive some from your Bounty;
and you have been pleas’d to flatter
me with a Belief, that I was not indifferent
to you. I dare therefore say, N that N1v 178
that being honour’d with the Glory
of your Tenderness and Care, I ought,
as a Trophy of my illustrious Conquest,
to adorn the Watch with a Cypher,
that is so advantageous to me.
Ought I not to esteem my self the
most fortunate and happy of Mankind,
to have exchang’d my Heart
with so charming and admirable a
Person as Iris? Ah! how sweet, how
precious is the Change; and how
vast a Glory arrives to me from it!
Oh! you must not wonder, if my
Soul abandon it self to a Thousand
Extasies! In the Merchandize of
Hearts, Oh! how dear it is, to receive
as much as one gives; and barter
Heart for Heart! Oh! I wou’d not
receive mine again, for all the Crowns
the Universe contains! Nor ought
you, my Adorable, make any Vows,
or Wishes, ever to retrieve yours; or
shew the least Repentance for the
Blessing you have given me. The
Exchange we made, was confirm’d
by a noble Faith; and you ought to
believe, you have bestow’d it well, since, N2r 179
since you are paid for it, a Heart that
is so conformable to yours, so true, so
just, and so full of Adoration; And
nothing can be the just Recompence
of Love, but Love; and to enjoy the
true Felicity of it, our Hearts ought
to keep an equal Motion; and, like
the Scales of Justice, always hang
even.

’Tis the Property of Reciprocal
Love, to make the Heart feel the Delicacy
of Love, and to give the Lover
all the Ease and Softness he can reasonably
hope. Such a Love renders
all Things advantageous and prosperous:
Such a Love triumphs over all
other Pleasures. And I put a Crown
of Olives over the Cypher of Reciprocal
Love
, to make known, that two
Hearts, where Love is justly equal,
enjoy a Peace, that nothing can disturb.

Olives are never fading seen;

But always flourishing, and green.

N2 The N2v 180

The Emblem ’tis of Love and Peace;

For Love that’s true, will never cease:

And Peace does Pleasure still increase.

Joy to the World, the Peace of Kings
imparts;

And Peace in Love distributes it to
Hearts.

The third Cypher.

The C, and the L, which are
joyn’d to the Letters of our
Names in this Cypher, crown’d with
Laurel, explains a Constant Love. It
will not, my fair Iris, suffice, that my
Love is extream, my Passion violent,
and my Wishes fervent, or that our
Loves are reciprocal: But it ought
also to be constant; for in Love, the
Imagination is oftner carried to those things N3r 181
things that may arrive, and which
we wish for, than to things that Time
has rob’d us of: And in those agreeable
Thoughts of Joys to come, the
Heart takes more delight to wander,
than in all those that are past; though
the Remembrance of ’em are very
dear, and very charming. We shou’d
be both unjust, if we were not perswaded
we are possest with a Vertue,
the Use of which is so admirable; as
that of Constancy. Our Loves are
not of that sort, that can finish, or
have End; but such a Passion, so perfect,
and so constant, that it will be a
President for future Ages, to love perfectly;
and when they wou’d express
an extream Passion, they will say,
“They lov’d, as Damon did the charming
Iris.”
And he that knows the
Glory of Constant Love, will despise
those fading Passions, those little Amusements,
that serve for a Day.
What Pleasure, or Dependance can
one have in a Love of that sort? What
Concern, What Raptures can such an
Amour produce in a Soul? And what N3 Satis- N3v 182
Satisfaction can one promise one’s
self, in playing with a false Gamester;
who, though you are aware of him,
in spight of all your Precaution, puts
the false Dice upon you, and wins all.

Those Eyes, that can no better Conquest
make,

Let ’em ne’er look abroad:

Such, but the empty Name of Lovers
take,

And so prophane the God.

Better they never shou’d pretend,

Than e’er begun to make an End.

Of that fond Flame, what shall we
say,

That’s born and languisht in a Day?

Such short-liv’d Blessings cannot bring

The Pleasure of an Envying.

Who N4r 183

Who is’t will celebrate that Flame,

That’s damn’d to such a scanty Fame?

While constant Love, the Nymphs
and Swains

Still sacred make, in lasting Strains,

And chearful Lays, throughout the
Plains.

A constant Love knows no Decay;

But still advancing e’ery Day,

Will last as long as Life can stay.

With e’ery Look and Smile improves,

With the same Ardour always moves,

With such, as Damon, charming Iris
loves!

Constant Love finds it self impossible
to be shaken; it resists the Attacks
of Envy, and a Thousand AccidentsN4 cidents N4v 184
that endeavour to change it:
Nothing can disoblige it, but a known
Falseness, or Contempt: Nothing can
remove it, though for a short Moment
it may lye sullen and resenting,
it recovers, and returns with greater
Force and Joy. I therefore, with very
good Reason, crown this Cypher of
Constant Love with a Wreath of Laurel;
since such Love always triumphs
over Time and Fortune, though it be
not her Property to besiege; for she
cannot overcome, but in defending
her self; but the Victories she gains,
are never the less glorious.

For far less Conquest, we have known

The Victor wear the Lawrel Crown.

The Triumph with more Pride let him
receive;

While those of Love, at least, more
Pleasures give.

The N5r 185

The fourth Cypher.

Perhaps, my lovely Maid, you
will not find out what I mean
by the S, and the L, in this last Cypher,
that is crown’d with Roses. I
will therefore tell you, I mean Secret
Love
. There are very few People,
who know the Nature of that
Pleasure, which so divine a Love creates:
And let me say what I will of
it, they must feel it themselves, who
wou’d rightly understand it, and all
its ravishing Sweets. But this there
is a great deal of Reason to believe,
the Secrecy in Love doubles the Pleasures
of it. And I am so absolutely
perswaded of this, that I believe all
those Favours that are not kept secret,
are dull and paul’d, very insipid and
tasteless Pleasures: And let the Favours
be never so innocent, that a Lover
receives from a Mistress, she ought
to value ’em, set a Price upon ’em,
and make the Lover pay dear; while he N5v 186
he receives ’em with Difficulty, and
sometimes with Hazard. A Lover
that is not secret, but suffers every
one to count his Sighs, has, at most,
but a feeble Passion, such as produces
sudden and transitory Desires, which
dye as soon as born: A true Love
has not this Character; for whensoever
’tis made publick, it ceases to be
a Pleasure, and is only the Result of
Vanity. Not that I expect, our Loves
shou’d always remain a Secret: No,
I shou’d never, at that Rate, arrive
to a Blessing, which, above all the
Glories of the Earth, I aspire to; but
even then, there are a Thousand Joys,
a Thousand Pleasures, that I shall be
as careful to conceal from the foolish
World, as if the whole Preservation
of that Pleasure depended on my Silence;
as indeed it does in a great
Measure.

To this Cypher I put a Crown of
Roses, which are not Flowers of a very
lasting Date. And ’tis to let you
see, that ’tis impossible Love can be
long hid. We see every Day, with what N6r 187
what fine Dissimulation and Pains,
People conceal a Thousand Hates and
Malices, Disgusts, Disobligations, and
Resentments, without being able to
conceal the least part of their Love;
but Reputation has an Ardour, as well
as Roses; and a Lover ought to esteem
that, as the dearest, and tenderest
Thing; not only that of his own,
which is, indeed, the least part; but
that of his Mistress, more valuable to
him than Life. He ought to endeavour
to give People no Occasion to
make false Judgments of his Actions,
or to give their Censures; which,
most certainly, are never in the Favour
of the fair Person; for likely,
those false Censures are of the busie
Female Sex, the Coquets of that number;
whose little Spights and Railleries,
joyn’d to that fancy’d Wit they
boast of, sets ’em at Odds with all the
Beautiful, and Innocent: And how
very little of that kind serves, to give
the World a Faith, when a Thousand
Vertues, told of the same Persons, by
more credible Witnesses and Judges, shall N6v 188
shall pass unregarded; so willing and
inclin’d is all the World to credit the
Ill, and condemn the Good. And
yet, Oh! what pity ’tis, we are compell’d
to live in Pain, to oblige this
foolish scandalous World! And though
we know each others Vertue and Honour,
we are oblig’d to observe that
Caution (to humour the Talking
Town) which takes away so great a
part of the Pleasure of Life! ’Tis
therefore that, among these Roses,
you will find some Thorns; by which
you may imagine, that in Love, Precaution
is necessary to its Secrecy:
And we must restrain our selves, upon
a Thousand Occasions, with so
much Care that, O Iris! ’tis impossible
to be discreet, without Pain; but
’tis a Pain, that creates a Thousand
Pleasures.

Where shou’d a Lover hide his Joys,

Free from Malice, free from Noise?

Where N7r 189

Where no Envy can intrude:

Where no busie Rival’s Spy,

Made, by Disappointment, rude,

May inform his Jealousie.

The Heart will their best Refuge
prove;

Which Nature meant the Cabinet of
Love.

What wou’d a Lover not endure,

His Mistress Fame and Honour to
secure.

Iris, the Care we take to be discreet,

Is the dear Toyl, that makes the
Pleasure sweet.

The Thorn that does the Wealth
inclose,

That with less sawcy Freedom we may
touch the Rose.

The N7v 190

The Clasp of the Watch.

Ah, charming Iris! Ah, my lovely
Maid! ’Tis now in a more
peculiar manner, that I require your
Aid, in the Finishing of my Design,
and Compleating the whole Piece, to
the utmost Perfection; and without
your Aid, it cannot be perform’d. It
is about the Clasp of the Watch; a
Material, in all Appearance, the most
trivial of any Part of it. But that it
may be safe for ever, I design it the
Image, or Figure of Two Hands; that
fair One of the adorable Iris, joyn’d
to mine; with this Motto, Inviolable
Faith
: For this Case, this Heart ought
to be shut up by this Eternal Clasp.
Oh, there is nothing so necessary as
this! Nothing can secure Love, but
Faith.

That Vertue ought to be a Guard
to all the Heart thinks, and all the
Mouth utters: Nor can Love say, he
triumphs without it. And when that remains N8r 191
remains not in the Heart, all the rest
deserves no Regard. Oh! I have not
lov’d so ill, to leave one Doubt upon
your Soul. Why then, will you
want that Faith? O unkind Charmer,
that my Passion, and my Services
so justly merit!

When two Hearts entirely love,

And in one Sphere of Honour move,

Each maintains the other’s Fire,

With a Faith that is entire.

For what heedless Youth bestows

On a faithless Maid, his Vows.

Faith without Love, bears Vertue’s
Price;

But Love, without her Mixture, is a Vice.

Love, like Religion, still shou’d be,

In the Foundation, firm and true:

In N8v 192

In Points of Faith, shou’d still agree:

Tho’ Innovations vain and new

(Love’s little Quarrels) may arise;

In Fundamentals still they’re just and
wise.

Then, charming Maid, be sure of this:

Allow me Faith as well as Love;

Since that alone affords no Bliss,

Unless your Faith your Love improve.

Either resolve to let me dye

By fairer Play, your Cruelty;

Than not your Love, with Faith impart,

And with your Vows, to give your
Heart.

In O1r 193

In mad Despair I’d rather fall,

Than lose my glorious Hopes of Conqu’ring
all.

So certain it is, that Love, without
Faith, is of no value.

In fine, my adorable Iris, this Case
shall be, as near as I can, like those delicate
Ones of Filligrin-Work, which
do not hinder the Sight from taking
a View of all within: You may therefore
see, through this Heart, all your
Watch. Nor is my Desire of Preserving
this inestimable Piece more, than
to make it the whole Rule of my Life
and Actions. And my chiefest Design
in these Cyphers, is, to comprehend in
’em, the principal Vertues that are
most necessary to Love. Do not we
know, that Reciprocal Love is Justice;
Constant Love, Fortitude; Secret Love,
Prudence? Though ’tis true, that Extream
Love, that is, Excess of Love,
in one Sense, appears not to be Temperance;
yet you must know, my Iris,
that in Matters of Love, Excess O is O1v 194
is a Vertue, and that all other Degrees
of Love are worthy Scorn alone. ’Tis
this alone, that can make good the
glorious Title: ’Tis this alone, that
can bear the true Name of Love; and
this alone, that renders the Lovers
truly happy, in spight of all the Storms
of Fate, and Shocks of Fortune. This
is an Antidote against all other Griefs:
This bears up the Soul in all Calamity;
and is the very Heaven of Life, the last
Refuge of all Worldly Pain and Care,
and may well bear the Title of Divine.

The Art of Loving well.

That Love may all Perfection be;

Sweet, Charming to the last Degree,

The Heart, where the bright Flame
does dwell,

In Faith and Softness shou’d excel:

Excess of Love shou’d fill each Vein,

And all its sacred Rites maintain.

The O2r 195

The tend’rest Thoughts Heav’n can inspire,

Shou’d be the Fuel to its Fire:

And that, like Incense, burn as pure;

Or that, in Urns, shou’d still endure.

No fond Desire shou’d fill the Soul,

But such as Honour may controul.

Jealousie I will allow:

Not the Amorous Winds that blow

Shou’d wanton in my Iris Hair,

Or ravish Kisses from my Fair.

Not the Flowers, that grow beneath,

Shou’d borrow Sweetness of her Breath.

If her Bird she do caress,

How I grudge its Happiness,

O2 When O2v 196

When upon her Snowy Hand,

The Wanton does triumphing stand!

Or upon her Breast she skips,

And lays her Beak to Iris Lips!

Fainting at my ravisht Joy,

I cou’d the Innocent destroy.

If I can no Bliss afford,

To a little harmless Bird,

Tell me, O thou dear lov’d Maid!

What Reason cou’d my Rage perswade,

If a Rival shou’d invade?

If thy charming Eyes shou’d dart

Looks that sally from the Heart;

If you sent a Smile, or Glance

To another, tho’ by Chance;

Still O3r 197

Still thou giv’st what’s not thy own;

They belong to me alone.

All Submission I wou’d pay.

Man was born, the Fair t’obey.

Your very Look I’d understand,

And thence receive your least Command:

Never your Justice will dispute;

But, like a Lover, execute.

I wou’d no Usurper be,

But in claiming sacred Thee.

I wou’d have all, and every Part:

No Thought shou’d hide within thy
Heart.

Mine a Cabinet was made,

Where Iris Secrets shou’d be laid.

O3 In O3v 198

In the rest, without Controul,

She shou’d triumph o’er the Soul:

Prostrate at her Feet I’d lye,

Despising Power and Liberty;

Glorying more by Love to fall,

Than rule the Universal Ball.

Hear me, O you sawcy Youth!

And from my Maxims, learn this Truth.

Wou’d you Great and Powerful prove?

Be an humble Slave to Love.

’Tis nobler far, a Joy to give,

Than any Blessing to receive.

The O4r 199

The
Looking-glass,
Sent from
Damon to Iris.

How long, O charming Iris!
shall I speak in vain of
your adorable Beauty? You
have been just, and believe
I love you with a Passion perfectly
tender and extream; and yet you will
not allow your Charms to be infinite.
You must either accuse my Flames to
be unreasonable, and that my Eyes
and Heart are false Judges of Wit and
Beauty; or allow, that you are the
most perfect of your Sex. But instead
of that, you always accuse me of Flattery,
when I speak of your infinite O4 Merit; O4v 200
Merit; and when I refer you to your
Glass, you tell me, that flatters, as
well as Damon; though one wou’d
imagine, that shou’d be a good Witness
for the Truth of what I say, and
undeceive you of the Opinion of my
Injustice. Look――and confirm your
self, that nothing can equal your Perfections.
All the World says it, and
you must doubt it no longer. O Iris!
Will you dispute against the
whole World?

But since you have so long distrusted
your own Glass, I have here presented
you with One, which I know
is very true; and having been made
for you only, can serve only you.
All other Glasses present all Objects,
but this reflects only Iris; whenever
you consult it, it will convince you;
and tell you, how much Right I have
done you, when I told you, you were
the fairest Person that ever Nature
made. When other Beauties look into
it, it will speak to all the fair Ones;
but let ’em do what they will, ’twill
say nothing to their Advantage.

Iris O5r 201

Iris, to spare what you call Flattery,

Consult your Glass each Hour of the
Day.

’Twill tell you where your Charms and
Beauties lye,

And where your little wanton Graces
play:

Where Love does revel in your Face
and Eyes;

What Look invites your Slaves, and
what denies.

Where all the Loves adorn you with
such Care,

Where dress your Smiles, where arm
your lovely Eyes;

Where deck the flowing Tresses of your
Hair:

How cause your Snowy Breasts to fall
and rise:

How O5v 202

How this severe Glance makes the Lover
dye;

How that, more soft, gives Immortality.

Where you shall see, what ’tis enslaves
the Soul;

Where e’ery Feature, e’ery Look
combines:

When the adorning Air, o’er all the
Whole,

To so much Wit, and so nice Vertue
joyns.

Where the Belle Taille and Motion still
afford

Graces to be eternally ador’d.

But I will be silent now, and let
your Glass speak.

Iris O6r 203

Iris’s Looking-Glass.

Damon (O charming Iris!)
has given me to you, that
you may sometimes give
your self the Trouble, and
me the Honour of Consulting me in
the great and weighty Affairs of Beauty.
I am, my adorable Mistress! a
faithful Glass; and you ought to believe
all I say to you.

The Shape of Iris

I must begin with your Shape, and
tell you, without Flattery, ’tis
the finest in the World, and gives
Love and Admiration to all that see
you. Pray observe how free and easie
it is, without Constraint, Stiffness, or Affectation; O6v 204
Affectation, those mistaken Graces of
the Fantastick, and the Formal; who
give themselves Pain, to shew their
Will to please; and whose Dressing
makes the greatest Part of its Fineness,
when they are more oblig’d to
the Taylor, than to Nature; who add
or diminish, as Occasion serves, to
form a Grace, where Heaven never
gave it: And while they remain on
this Wreck of Pride, they are eternally
uneasie, without pleasing any Body.
Iris, I have seen a Woman of
your Acquaintance, who, having a
greater Opinion of her own Person,
than any Body else, has screw’d her
Body into so fine a Form (as she calls
it) that she dares no more stir a Hand,
lift up an Arm, or turn her Head aside,
than if, for the Sin of such a Disorder,
she were to be turn’d into a
Pillar of Salt; the less stiff and fix’d
Statue of the two. Nay, she dares not
speak or smile, lest she shou’d put her
Face out of that Order she had set it
in her Glass, when she last lookt on
her self: And is all over such a Lady Nice O7r 205
Nice (excepting in her Conversation)
that ever made a ridiculous Figure.
And there are many Ladies more, but
too much tainted with that nauceous
Formality, that old-fashion’d Vice:
But Iris, the charming, the all-perfect
Iris, has nothing in her whole Form,
that is not free, natural, and easie;
and whose every Motion cannot please
extreamly, and which has not given
Damon a Thousand Rivals.

Damon, the Young, the Am’rous, and
the True;

Who sighs incessantly for you:

Whose whole Delight, now you are
gone,

Is to retire to Shades alone,

And to the Ecchoes make his Moan.

By purling Streams the wishing Youth
is laid,

Still sighing “Iris! Lovely charming
Maid!”

See O7v 206

(See, in thy Absence, how thy Lover dies;)

While to his Sighs, the Eccho still replies.

Then with the Stream he holds Discourse:

“O thou that bendst thy liquid Force

To lovely Thames! upon whose Shore

The Maid resides, whom I adore!

My Tears of Love upon thy Surface
bear:

And if upon thy Banks thou see’st my
Fair,

In all thy softest Murmurs sing,

‘From Damon, I this Present bring;

My e’ery Curl contains a Tear!’

Then O8r 207

Then at her Feet thy Tribute pay:

But haste, O happy Stream! away;

Lest, charm’d too much, thou shou’dst
for ever stay.

And thou, O gentle, murm’ring Breeze!

That plays in Air, and wantons with the
Trees;

On thy young Wings, where gilded Sunbeams
play,

To Iris my soft Sighs convey,

Still as they rise, each Minute of the
Day:

But whisper gently in her Ear;

Let not the ruder Winds thy Message
hear,

Nor ruffle one dear Curl of her bright
Hair.

Oh! O8v 208

Oh! touch her Cheeks with sacred Reverence,

And stay not gazing on her lovely Eye!

But if thou bear’st her Rosie Breath
from thence,

’Tis Incense of that Excellence,

That as thou mount’st, ’twill perfume all
the Skies.”

Iris’s Complexion.

Say what you will, I am confident,
if you will confess your
Heart, you are, every time you view
your self in me, surpriz’d at the Beauty
of your Complexion; and will secretly
own, you never saw any thing
so fair. I am not the first Glass, by a
Thousand, that has assur’d you of this.
If you will not believe me, ask Damon:
He tells it you every Day, but that P1r 209
that Truth from him offends you;
and because he loves too much, you
think his Judgment too little; and
since this is so perfect, that must be
defective. But ’tis most certain, your
Complexion is infinitely fine, your
Skin soft and smooth, as polisht Wax,
or Ivory, extreamly white and clear;
though if any Body speaks but of your
Beauty, an agreeable Blush casts it self
all over your Face, and gives you a
Thousand new Graces.

And then two Flowers, newly born,

Shine in your Heav’nly Face:

The Rose, that blushes in the Morn,

Usurps the Lilly’s Place:

Sometimes the Lilly does prevail,

And makes the gen’rous Crimson pale.

P Iris’s P1v 210

Iris’s Hair.

Oh, the beautiful Hair of Iris!
It seems, as if Nature had
crown’d you with a great Quantity
of lovely fair brown Hair, to make us
know, that you were born to rule;
and to repair the Faults of Fortune,
that has not given you a Diadem:
And do not bewail the Want of that
(so much your Merit’s Due) since
Heaven has so gloriously recompenc’d
you, with what gains more admiring
Slaves.

Heav’n for Soveraignty, has made your
Form:

And you were more than for dull Empire
born.

O’er Hearts your Kindom shall extend,

Your vast Dominion know no End.

Thither P2r 211

Thither the Loves and Graces shall resort;

To Iris make their Homage, and their
Court.

No envious Star, no common Fate,

Did on my Iris Birth-day wait;

But all was happy, all was delicate.

Here Fortune wou’d inconstant be in
vain:

Iris and Love, eternally shall reign.

Love does not make less use of your
Hair for new Conquests, than of all
the rest of your Beauties that adorn
you. If he takes our Hearts with your
fine Eyes, it tyes ’em fast with your
Hair; and of it weaves a Chain, not
easily broken. It is not of those sorts
of Hair, whose Harshness discovers ill
Nature; nor of those, whose Softness
shews us the Weakness of the Mind: P2 Not P2v 212
Not that either of these are Arguments
without Exception; but ’tis such as
bears the Character of a perfect Mind,
and a delicate Wit; and for its Colour,
the most faithful, discreet, and
beautiful in the World; such as shews a
Complexion and Constitution, neither
so cold, to be insensible; nor so hot, to
have too much Fire; that is, neither
too white, nor too black; but such a
Mixture of the two Colours, as makes
it the most agreeable in the World.

’Tis that which leads those captiv’d
Hearts,

That bleeding at your Feet do lye.

’Tis that the Obstinate converts,

That dare the Power of Love deny.

’Tis that which Damon so admires;

Damon, who often tells you so.

If from your Eyes Love takes his Fires,

’Tis with your Hair he strings his Bow:

Which P3r 213

Which touching but the feather’d Dart,

It never mist the destin’d Heart.

Iris’s Eyes.

I believe, my fair Mistress, I shall
dazle you with the Lustre of your
own Eyes. They are the finest Blue in
the World: They have all the Sweetness,
that ever charm’d the Heart; with
a certain Languishment, that’s irresistable;
and never any lookt on ’em,
that did not sigh after ’em. Believe
me, Iris, they carry unavoidable Darts
and Fires; and whoever expose themselves
to their Dangers, pay for their
Imprudence.

Cold as my solid Chrystal is,

Hard and impenetrable too;

Yet I am sensible of Bliss,

When your charming Eyes I view:

P3 Even P3v 214

Even by me, their Flames are felt;

And at each Glance, I fear to melt.

Ah, how pleasant are my Days!

How my glorious Fate I bless!

Mortals never knew my Joys,

Nor Monarchs guest my Happiness.

Every Look that’s soft and gay,

Iris gives me every Day.

Spight of her Vertue, and her Pride,

Every Morning I am blest

With what to Damon is deny’d;

To view her when she is undrest.

All her Heaven of Beauty’s shown

To triumphing Me――alone.

Scarce P4r 215

Scarce the prying Beams of Light,

Or th’impatient God of Day,

Are allow’d so dear a Sight,

Or dare prophane her with a Ray;

When she has appear’d to me,

Like Venus rising from the Sea.

But Oh! I must those Charms conceal,

All too Divine for vulgar Eyes:

Shou’d I my secret Joys reveal,

Of Sacred Trust I break the Tyes;

And Damon wou’d with Envy dye,

Who hopes, one Day, to be as blest as I.

Extravagant with my Joys, I have
stray’d beyond my Limits; for I was
telling you of the wondrous Fineness P4 of P4v 216
of your Eyes, which no Mortal can
resist, nor any Heart stand the Force
of their Charms; and the most difficult
Conquests they gain, scarce cost
’em the Expence of a Look. They
are modest and tender, chaste and languishing.
There you may take a View
of the whole Soul, and see Wit and
good Nature (those two inseparable
Vertues of the Mind) in an extraordinary
Measure. In fine, you see all
that fair Eyes can produce, to make
themselves ador’d. And when they
are angry, they strike an unresistable
Awe upon the Soul: And those Severities,
Damon wishes, may perpetually
accompany them, during their
Absence from him; for ’tis with such
Eyes, he wou’d have you receive all
his Rivals.

Keep, lovely Maid, the Softness in your
Eyes,

To flatter Damon with another Day:

When P5r 217

When at your Feet the ravisht Lover
lies,

Then put on all that’s tender, all
that’s gay:

And for the Griefs your Absence makes
him prove,

Give him the softest, dearest Looks of
Love.

His trembling Heart with sweetest
Smiles caress,

And in your Eyes, soft Wishes let
him find;

That your Regret of Absence may confeß,

In which, no Sense of Pleasure you
cou’d find:

And to restore him, let your faithful
Eyes

Declare, that all his Rivals you despise.

The P5v 218

The Mouth of Iris.

I perceive, your Modesty wou’d impose
Silence on me: But, O fair Iris!
Do not think to present your
self before a Glass, if you wou’d not
have it tell you all your Beauties:
Content your self, that I only speak
of ’em En Passant; for shou’d I speak
what I wou’d, I shou’d dwell all Day
upon each Particular, and still say
something new. Give me Liberty
then to speak of your fine Mouth:
You need only open it a little, and
you will see the most delicate Teeth,
that ever you beheld; the whitest,
and the best set. Your Lips are the
finest in the World; so round, so soft,
so plump, so dimpled, and of the lovliest
Colour. And when you smile,
Oh! What Imagination can conceive
how sweet it is, that has not seen you
Smiling? I cannot describe what I so
admire; and ’tis in vain to those, who
have not seen Iris.

O Iris! P6r 219

O Iris! boast that one peculiar Charm,

That has so many Conquests made;

So innocent, yet capable of Harm;

So just it self, yet has so oft betray’d

Where a Thousand Graces dwell,

And wanton round in e’ery Smile.

A Thousand Loves do listen when you
speak,

And catch each Accent as it flies:

Rich flowing Wit, when e’er you Silence
break,

Flows from your Tongue, and sparkles
in your Eyes.

Whether you talk, or silent are;

Your Lips Immortal Beauties were.

The P6v 220

The Neck of Iris.

All your Modesty, all your nice
Care, cannot hide the ravishing
Beauties of your Neck; we must
see it, coy as you are; and see it the
whitest, and finest-shap’t, that ever
was form’d. Oh! Why will you cover
it? You know, all handsom things
wou’d be seen. And Oh! How often
have you made your Lovers envy
your Scarf, or any thing that hides
so fine an Object from their Sight.
Damon himself complains of your too
nice Severity. Pray do not hide it so
carefully. See how perfectly turn’d
it is; with small blue Veins, wandring
and ranging here and there, like
little Rivulets, that wanton o’er the
flowery Meads. See how the round
white rising Breasts heave with every
Breath, as if they disdain’d to be confin’d
to a Covering; and repel the
malicious Cloud, that wou’d obscure
their Brightness.

Fain P7r 221

Fain I wou’d have leave to tell

The Charms that on your Bosom dwell;

Describe it like some flow’ry Field,

That does Ten Thousand Pleasures yield;

A Thousand gliding Springs and Groves;

All Receptacles for Loves.

But Oh! What Iris hides, must be

Ever sacred kept by me.

The Arms and Hands of Iris.

I shall not be put to much Trouble
to shew you your Hands and
Arms, because you may view them
without my Help; and you are very
unjust, if you have not admir’d ’em
a Thousand times. The beautiful Colourlour P7v 222
and Proportion of your Arm is
unimitable, and your Hand is dazling
fine, small, and plump; long-pointed
Fingers, delicately turn’d; dimpl’d
on the Snowy Out-side, but adorn’d
within the Rose, all over the soft
Palm. O Iris! Nothing equals your
fair Hand; that Hand, of which
Love so often makes such use, to draw
his Bow, when he wou’d send the Arrow
home, with more Success; and
which irresistibly wounds those, who
possibly, have not yet seen your Eyes:
And when you have been veil’d, that
lovely Hand has gain’d you a Thousand
Adorers. And I have heard Damon
say, “Without the Aid of more
Beauties, that alone had been sufficient
to have made an absolute Conquest
o’er his Soul.”
And he has often
vow’d, “It never toucht him, but
it made his Blood run with little irregular
Motions in his Veins; his
Breath beat short and double; his
Blushes rise, and his very Soul dance.”

Oh! P8r 223

Oh! How the Hand the Lover ought
to prize,

’Bove any one peculiar Grace,

While he is dying for the Eyes,

And doting on the lovely Face.

The Unconsid’ring little knows,

How much he to this Beauty owes.

That, when the Lover absent is,

Informs him of his Mistress Heart.

’Tis that, which gives him all his Bliß,

When dear Love-Secrets ’twill impart.

That plights the Faith, the Maid bestows:

And that confirms the tim’rous Vows.

’Tis P8v 224

’Tis that betrays the Tenderness,

Which the too bashful Tongue denies.

’Tis that, that does the Heart confess,

And spares the Language of the
Eyes.

’Tis that, which Treasures gives so
vast:

Ev’n Iris ’twill to Damon give at last.

The Grace and Air of Iris.

’Tis I alone, O charming Maid!
that can shew you that noble
Part of your Beauty: That generous
Air, that adorns all your lovely Person,
and renders every Motion and
Action perfectly adorable. With what
a Grace you walk!――How free, how
easie, and how unaffected! See how you Q1r 225
you move;――for only here you can
see it. Damon has told you a Thousand
times, that never any Mortal had
so glorious an Air; but he cou’d not
half describe it, nor wou’d you credit
even what he said; but with a careless
Smile, pass it off for the Flattery
of a Lover. But here behold, and be
convinc’d; and know, no part of your
Beauty can charm more than this. O
Iris, confess, Love has adorn’d you
with all his Art and Care. Your
Beauties are the Themes of all the
Muses; who tell you in daily Songs,
that the Graces themselves have not
more than Iris. And one may truly
say, that you alone know how to joyn
the Ornaments and Dress, with Beauty;
and you are still adorn’d, as if
that Shape and Air had a peculiar
Art to make all things appear gay and
fine. Oh, how well drest you are!
How every thing becomes you! Never
singular, never gawdy; but always
suting with your Quality.

Q Oh, Q1v 226

Oh, how that Negligence becomes your
Air!

That careless flowing of your Hair,

That plays about, with wanton Grace,

With every Motion of your Face:

Disdaining all that dull Formality,

That dares not move the Lip, or
Eye;

But at some fancy’d Grace’s cost;

And think, with it, at least, a Lover
lost.

But the unlucky Minute to reclaim,

And ease the Coquet of her Pain,

The Pocket-Glass adjusts the Face
again:

Re-sets Q2r 227

Re-sets the Mouth, and languishes the
Eyes;

And thinks, the Spark that ogles that
Way――dyes.

Of Iris learn, O ye mistaken Fair!

To dress your Face, your Smiles, your
Air.

Let easie Nature all the bus’ness do:

She can the softest Graces shew:

Which Art but turns to Ridicule;

And where there’s none, serves but to
shew the Fool.

In Iris you all Graces find;

Charms without Art, a Motion unconfin’d:

Q2 Without Q2v 228

Without Constraint, she smiles, she looks,
she talks;

And without Affectation, moves and
walks.

Beauties so perfect ne’er were seen.

O ye mistaken Fair! Dress ye by Iris
Miene.

The Discretion of Iris.

But O Iris! The Beauties of the
Body are imperfect, if the Beauties
of the Soul do not advance themselves
to an equal Height. But, O
Iris! What Mortal is there so damned
to Malice, that does not, with
Adoration, confess, that you (O
charming Maid!) have an equal Portion
of all the Braveries and Vertues
of the Mind? And who is it, that
confesses your Beauty, that does not, at Q3r 229
at the same time acknowledge, and
bow to your Wisdom? The whole
World admires both in you? And
all, with Impatience, ask, “Which of
the Two is most surprizing? Your
Beauty, or your Discretion?”
But we
dispute in vain on that excellent Subject;
for after all, ’tis determin’d,
that the two Charms are equal. ’Tis
none of those idle Discretions, that
consists in Words alone, and ever
takes the Shadow of Reason for the
Substance; and that makes use of all
the little Artifices of Subtilty, and
florid Talking, to make the Out-side
of the Argument appear fine, and
leave the In-side wholly mis-understood:
Who runs away with Words,
and never thinks of Sense. But you,
O lovely Maid! never make use of
these affected Arts; but without being
too brisk, or too severe; too silent,
or too talkative, you inspire in
all your Hearers, a Joy, and a Respect.
Your Soul is an Enemy to
that usual Vice of your Sex, of using
little Arguments against the Fair; or Q3 by Q3v 230
by a Word, or Jest, make your self,
and Hearers pleasant, at the Expence
of the Fame of others.

Your Heart is an Enemy to all
Passions, but that of Love. And
this is one of your noble Maxims;
“That every One ought to love, in
some Part of his Life: And that,
in a Heart truly brave, Love is
without Folly: That Wisdom is a
Friend to Love, and Love to perfect
Wisdom.”
Since these Maxims
are your own, do not, O charming
Iris! resist that noble Passion:
And since Damon is the most tender
of all your Lovers, answer his Passion
with a noble Ardour: Your Prudence
never fails in the Choice of
your Friends; and in chusing so well
your Lover, you will stand an eternal
President to all unreasonable fair
Ones.

O thou, Q4r 231

O thou, that dost excel in Wit and
Youth!

Be still a President for Love and
Truth.

Let the dull World say what it will,

A noble Flame’s unblameable.

Where a fine Sent’ment, and soft Passion
rules,

They scorn the Censure of the Fools,

Yield, Iris, then; Oh, yield to Love!

Redeem your dying Slave from Pain:

The World your Conduct must approve:

Your Prudence never acts in vain.

Q4 The Q4v 232

The Goodness and Complaisance of
Iris.

Who but your Lovers, fair Iris!
doubts, but you are the
most complaisant Person in the World:
And that with so much Sweetness
you oblige all, that you command in
Yielding; and as you gain the Heart
of both Sexes, with the Affability of
your noble Temper; so all are proud
and vain of obliging you. And Iris,
you may live assur’d, that your Empire
is eternally establisht, by your
Beauty, and your Goodness: Your
Power is confirm’d, and you grow in
Strength every Minute: Your Goodness
gets you Friends, and your Beauty
Lovers.

This Goodness is not one of those,
whose Folly renders it easie to every
Desirer; but a pure Effect of the Generosity
of your Soul: such as Prudence
alone manages, according to the Q5r 233
the Merit of the Person, to whom it
is extended; and those whom you
esteem, receive the sweet Marks of
it; and only your Lovers complain:
Yet even then you charm. And
though sometimes you can be a little
disturb’d, yet, through your Anger,
your Goodness shines; and you are
but too much afraid, that that may
bear a false Interpretation: For oftentimes,
Scandal makes that pass for an
Effect of Love, which is purely, that
of Complaisance.

Never had any Body more Tenderness
for their Friends, than Iris:
Their Presence gives her Joy; their
Absence, Trouble; and when she cannot
see ’em, she finds no Pleasure, like
Speaking of ’em obligingly. Friendship
reigns in your Heart, and Sincerity
on your Tongue. Your Friendship
is so strong, so constant, and so
tender, that it charms, pleases, and
satisfies All, that are not your Adorers.
’Tis therefore, Damon is excusable,
if he be not contented with
your Noble Friendship alone; for he Q5v 234
he is the most tender of that Number.

“No! Give me all”, th’impatient Lover
cries;

“Without your Soul, I cannot live:

Dull Friendship cannot mine suffice,

That dyes for all you have to give.

The Smiles, the Vows, the Heart must
all be mine:

I cannot spare one Thought, or Wish of
thine.

I sigh, I languish all the Day;

Each Minute ushers in my Groans:

To e’ery God in vain I pray;

In e’ery Grove repeat my Moans.

Still Q6r 235

Still Iris Charms are all my Sorrows
Theams:

They pain me Waking, and they wrack
in Dreams.

Return, fair Iris! Oh, return!

Lest Sighing long, your Slave destroys.

I wish, I rave, I faint, I burn;

Restore me quickly all my Joys:

Your Mercy else, will come too late.

Distance in Love more cruel is, than
Hate.”

The Q6v 236

The Wit of Iris.

You are deceiv’d in me, fair Iris,
if you take me for one of those
ordinary Glasses, that represent the
Beauty only of the Body; I remark
to you also, the Beauties of the Soul:
And all about you declares yours, the
finest that ever was formed; that
you have a Wit that surprises, and is
always new: ’Tis none of those, that
loses its Lustre, when one considers
it; the more we examine yours, the
more adorable we find it. You say
nothing, that is not, at once, agreeable
and solid; ’tis always quick and
ready, without Impertinence, that
little Vanity of the Fair; who, when
they know they have Wit, rarely
manage it so, as not to abound in
Talking; and think, that all they
say must please, because, luckily, they
sometimes chance to do so. But Iris
never speaks, but ’tis of use; and
gives a Pleasure to all that hears her. She Q7r 237
She has the perfect Art of Penetrating,
even the most secret Thoughts.
How often have you known, without
being told, all that has past in
Damon’s Heart? For all great Wits
are Prophets too.

Tell me; Oh, tell me! Charming Prophetess;

For you alone can tell my Love’s Success.

The Lines in my dejected Face,

I fear, will lead you to no kind Result:

It is your own, that you must trace;

Those of your Heart you must consult.

’Tis there, my Fortune I must learn,

And all that Damon does concern.

I tell Q7v 238

I tell you, that I love a Maid,

As bright as Heav’n, of Angel-hue:

The softest, Nature ever made:

Whom I, with Sighs and Vows, pursue.

Oh, tell me, charming Prophetess!

Shall I this lovely Maid possess?

A Thousand Rivals do obstruct my
Way;

A Thousand Fears they do create:

They throng about her all the Day,

Whilst I at awful Distance wait.

Say, Will the lovely Maid so fickle
prove,

To give my Rivals Hope, as well as
Love?

She Q8r 239

She has a Thousand Charms of Wit,

With all the Beauty Heav’n e’er
gave:

Oh! Let her not make use of it,

To flatter me into the Slave.

Oh! Tell me Truth, to ease my
Pain:

Say rather, I shall dye by her Disdain.

The Modesty of Iris.

I perceive, fair Iris, you have a
Mind to tell me, I have entertain’d
you too long, with a Discourse
on your self. I know, your Modesty
makes this Declaration an Offence;
and you suffer me, with Pain, to unvail
those Treasures you wou’d hide. Your Q8v 240
Your Modesty, that so commendable
a Vertue in the Fair, and so peculiar to
you, is here a little too severe: Did
I flatter you, you shou’d blush: Did
I seek, by praising you, to shew an
Art of Speaking finely, you might
chide. But, O Iris! I say nothing,
but such plain Truths, as all the World
can witness, are so. And so far I am
from Flattery, that I seek no Ornament
of Words. Why do you take
such Care to conceal your Vertues?
They have too much Lustre, not to
be seen, in spight of all your Modesty:
Your Wit, your Youth, and
Reason oppose themselves, against
this dull Obstructer of our Happiness.
Abate, O Iris, a little of this
Vertue, since you have so many other,
to defend your self against the Attacks
of your Adorers.

You your self have the least Opinion
of your own Charms: And being
the only Person in the World,
that is not in love with ’em, you hate
to pass whole Hours, before your Looking-glass;
and to pass your Time, like R1r 241
like most of the idle Fair, in dressing,
and setting off those Beauties, which
need so little Art. You, more wise,
disdain to give those Hours to the Fatigue
of Dressing, which you know
so well how to employ a Thousand
Ways. The Muses have blest you,
above your Sex; and you know how
to gain a Conquest with your Pen,
more absolutely, than all the industrious
Fair, who trust to Dress and
Equipage.

I have a Thousand things to tell
you more, but willingly resign my
Place to Damon, that faithful Lover;
he will speak more ardently than I:
For, let a Glass use all its Force, yet,
when it speaks its Best, it speaks but
coldly.

If my Glass, O charming Iris!
have the good Fortune (which I cou’d
never entirely boast) to be believ’d,
’twill serve, at least, to convince you,
I have not been so guilty of Flattery,
as I have a Thousand times been
charg’d. Since then my Passion is R equal R1v 242
equal to your Beauty (without Comparison,
or End) believe, O lovely
Maid! how I sigh in your Absence:
And be perswaded to lessen my Pain,
and restore me to my Joys; for there
is no Torment so great, as the Absence
of a Lover from his Mistress;
of which, this is the Idea.

The Effects of Absence from
what we love.

Thou one continu’d Sigh! all over Pain!

Eternal Wish! but Wish, alas in vain!

Thou languishing, impatient Hoper on;

A busie Toyler, and yet still undone!

A breaking Glimpse of distant Day,

Inticing on, and leading more astray.

Thou Joy in Prospect, future Bliss extream;

But ne’er to be possest, but in a Dream.

Thou R2r 243

Thou fab’lous Goddess, which the ravisht
Boy,

In happy Slumbers proudly did enjoy:

But waking found an Airy Cloud he
prest;

His Arms came empty to his panting
Breast.

Thou Shade, that only haunts the Soul
by Night;

And when thou shou’dst inform, thou
fly’st the Sight.

Thou false Idea of the Thinking Brain,

That labours for the charming Form in
vain;

Which if my Chance it catch, thou’rt
lost again.

Finis.