A1r A1v
1686-08-02Aug. 2,


or the
Lover’s Watch.

By Mrs. A. Behn.

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

A2v A3r

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


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 DamonA3mon. A3v mon. 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 tues 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


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


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.


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 currently 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 C2I 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 der, 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, Damonmon, D3r 37 mon, 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.


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 pany, 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.


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 ceive 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 ing ’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 fence, 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 Damonmon; F7r 77 mon; ’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! 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 ments, 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.


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 ſolute 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.


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.


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 vance 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 ing 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 der 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 blems 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 cidents 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 lour 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.