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 [Page 13] has been most obliging to you, and that gives you the most tender Sen­timents.

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 consess to have for you, may pass for Half-Dreams; for 'tis most certain,

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 [Page 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,

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, [Page 18] therefore do not take too much pains in dressing your self, and setting your Person off.

Say to your self, as you are dres­sing, ‘Would it please Heaven, that [Page 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,

'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,

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 [Page 23] feels about his Heart, in reading those from a Mistress he entirely loves!

[Page 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.

[Page 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.

[Page 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, your 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,—

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 an Occasion of Writing to me, since you are assur'd of the Wel­come I give your Letters. Perhaps [Page 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 [Page 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.

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.

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, [Page 36] unaffected Love, Words unchosen, Thoughts unstudied, and Love un­feigned. I had rather find more Soft­ness, than Wit, in your Passion; more of Nature, than of Art; more of the Lover, than the Poet. Nor wou'd I have you write any of those little short Letters, that are read over in a Minute: In Love, long Letters bring a long Pleasure. Do not trouble your self to make 'em fine, or writea great deal of Wit and Sense in a few Lines; that is the Notion of a witty Billet, in any Affair, but that of Love: And have a Care, rather to avoid these Graces to a Mistress; and assure your self, dear Damon, that what pleases the Soul, pleases the Eye; and the Largeness, or Bulk of your Letter, shall never offend me; and that I on­ly am displeased, when I find them small. A Letter is ever the best, and most powerful Agent to a Mistress: It almost always perswades; 'tis al­ways renewing little Impressions, that possibly, otherwise, Absence would deface. Make use then, Da­mon, [Page 37] of your Time, while 'tis given you; and thank me, that I permit you to write to me: Perhaps, I shall not always continue in the Humour of suffering you to do so; and it may so happen, by some Turn of Chance and Fortune, that you may be depri­ved, at the same time, both of my Presence, and of the Means of Send­ing to me. I will believe, that such an Accident wou'd be a great Misfor­tune to you; for I have often heard you say, that, ‘To make the most happy Lover suffer Martyrdom, one need only forbid him Seeing, Speaking, and Writing to the Ob­ject he loves.’ Take all the Ad­vantages then you can, you cannot give me too often, Marks too power­ful of your Passion: Write therefore, during this Hour, every Day. I give you leave to believe, that while you do so, you are Serving me the most Obligingly, and Agreeably you can, while Absent; and that you are giv­ing me a Remedy against all Grief, Uneasiness, Melancholy, and Despair. [Page 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; [Page 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.

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 every 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 [Page 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,—

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; [Page 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. P [...]ssibly, she may rail at me; that is her fashion, by the way of Friendly Speaking; and an Aukward Commen­dation, the most effectual Way of De­saming, 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 [Page 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 [Page 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.

2 A-Clock.
Dinner-time.

LEave all those fond Entertain­ments, or you will dis-oblige me, and make Dinner wait for you; for my Cupid tells you, 'tis that Hour. Love does not pretend to make you lose that; nor is it my Province, to order you your Dyet. Here I give you a perfect Liberty, to do what you please: And possibly, 'tis the only Hour in the whole Four and twenty, that I will absolutely resign you, or dispence with your, even so much as Thinking on me. 'Tis true, in Seat­ing your self at Table, I wou'd not have you plac'd over against a very Beautiful Object; for in such an one, there are a Thousand little Graces, in Speaking, Looking, and Laughing, that fail not to Charm, if one gives way to the Eyes, to gaze and wander that Way; in which, perhaps, in [Page 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, [Page 52] and Conversation of other Beauties, that every Look, or Word, you give, in favour of 'em, is an In­dignity to my Reputation; and, which you cannot suffer, if you love me truly, and with Honour: And, assure your self, so much Vanity as you inspire in her, so much Fame you rob me of; for whatever Praises you give another Beauty, so much you take away from mine. There­fore, if you dine in Company, do as others do: Be generally Civil, not ap­plying your self, by Words, or Looks, to any particular Person: Be as gay as you please: Talk and laugh with all, for this is not the Hour for Chagrin.

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, [Page 56] if it pretend to share his Empire there.

I shou'd be very angry, if you had any of those Friendships, which one ought to desire in a Mistress only; for many times it happens, that you have Sentiments a little too tender [Page 57] for those Amiable Persons; and ma­ny times, Love and Friendship are so confounded together, that one 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 re­ceive [Page 58] it. And though you charge our Sex with all the Vanity; yet I often find Nature to have given you as large a Portion of that common Crime, which you wou'd shuffle off, as asham'd to own; and are as fond and vain of the Imagination of a Conquest, as any Coquet of us all; though, at the same time, you despise the Victim, you think it adds a Tro­phy to your Fame. And I have seen a Man dress, and trick, and adjust his Looks and Meen, to make a Visit to a Woman he lov'd not, nor ever cou'd love, as for those he made to his Mis­tress; and only for the Vanity of ma­king a Conquest upon a Heart, even unworthy of the little Pains he has taken about it. And what is this, but buying Vanity at 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 [Page 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 [Page 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 [Page 61] have any of those Attachments, I should have no Pity for him.

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, [Page 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 [Page 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.

[Page 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 if, 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 [Page 69] greatest Flatterer in the World: And he possesses every one with a Consi­dence, 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 [Page 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 giv­ing [Page 71] 'em to understand, they are alrea­dy engaged; or directing 'em to Fools, that will possibly hearken to 'em, and credit such Stuff, shame 'em out of a Folly so insamous, 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.

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. [Page 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 consess, '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.

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.

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

[Page 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 [Page 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-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 [Page 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—

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 [Page 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 uncomplainsant 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.

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-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 [Page 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, or 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:

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, [Page 95] more than at other Times; and reproach him with Dulness. For 'tis most certain, that when one loves tenderly, we wou'd know in a Mi­nute, what cannot be related in an Hour. Ask him, How I did? How I receiv'd his Letter? And if he exa­min'd the Air of my Face, when I took it? If I Blusht, or lookt Pale? If my Hand trembl'd, or I spoke to him, with short, interrupting Sighs? If I askt him any Questions about you, while I was opening the Seal? or if I cou'd not well speak, and was silent? If I read it Attentively, and with Joy? And all this, before you open the Answer, I have sent you by him: Which, because you are impa­tient to read, you, with the more Haste and Earnestness, demand all you expect from him; and that you may the better know, what Humour I was in, when I writ that to you. For, Oh! a Lover has a Thousand little Fears, and Dreads; he knows not why. In fine, make him recount to you, all that past, while he was [Page 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.

9 A-Clock.
Melancholy Reflections.

YOu will not have much trouble to explain what my Watch de­signs here. There can be no Thought more afficting, 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 [Page 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. [Page 101] I will flatter my self, that 'tis so with you; and that the least Evils appear great Misfortunes; and that all thòse, 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.

10 A-Clock.
Reflections.

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

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

[Page 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.

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 [Page 110] Choice: And when once one is as­sur'd of this, we find not much Diffi­culty in owning that Passion, which will so well commend one's Judg­ment; and there is no Obstacle, that Love does not surmount. I confest my Weakness a Thousand Ways, be­fore I told it you, and I remember all those Things with Pleasure; but yet I remember 'em also with Shame.

11 A-Clock.
Supper.

I Will believe, Damon, that you have been so well entertain'd, during this Hour, and have found so much much 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 [Page 111] do not abandon your Heant 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 [Page 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—

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 surprising Things." But, Damon, [Page 116] you are well assur'd, I hope, that Iris is none of these Coquets; at least, if she had any Spark of it once in her Nature, she is, by the Excellency of your contrary Temper, taught to know, and scorn the Folly: And take heed, your Conduct never give me Cause to suspect, you have de­ceiv'd me in your Temper.

12 A-Clock.
Complaisance.

NEvertheless, Damon, Civility re­quires a little Complaisance, after Supper; and I am assur'd, you can never want that, though, I con­fess, you are not accus'd of too gene­ral a Complaisance; and do not often make use of it, to those Persons, you have an Indifference for; though one is not the less Esteemable, for having more of this, than one ought; and though an Excess of it be a Fault, 'tis [Page 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:

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; [Page 118] Oh! with what Pleasure do I listen; and with Pleasure answer 'em, either with my Eyes, or Tongue—

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—

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 [Page 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 [Page 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 Belloua, and the God of War; and Serving now a Monarch, whose Glo­rious Acts in Arms, has out-gone all the seign'd, and real Heroes of any Age; who has, himself, out-done what-ever History can produce, of Greatand 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 projecting, and Danger. And though, I confess, such Thoughts are proper for your Youth, your Quality, and [Page 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,

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 [Page 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 ad­vance [Page 131] to the utmost Limits of it. I am assur'd, that after having thought so much of me in the Day, you will think of me also in the Night. And the first Dream my Watch permits you to make, is to think you are in Conversation with me.

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

While you are saying all that Love can dictate, all that Wit and good Manners can invent, and all that I wish to hear from Damon, believe, in this Dream, all flattering and dear; that after having shew'd me the Ar­dour of your Flame, that I confess to you the Bottom of my Heart, and all the loving Secrets there; that I give you Sigh for Sigh, Tenderness for [Page 132] Tenderness, Heart for Heart, and Pleasure for Pleasure. And I wou'd have your Sense of this Dream so per­fect, and your Joy fo 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 foft Pleasure of the dear de­ceiving Transport, and you shou'd be ready to cry out—

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

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!—

[Page 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 Co [...]t, even to Impertinence.

[Page 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 [Page 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;

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 [Page 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 [Page 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.

In sine, 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 [Page 143] possesses, and pierces it with infinite Unquiets: And we may lay it down, as a certain Maxim,—

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.

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 [Page 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,

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

[Page 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 endeavour, but can never attain your End: And in Conclusion, you will say, in thinking of me;

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

[Page 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 [Page 151] a certain Receipt against declining Love.

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 [Page 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 [Page 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 [Page 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 wind­ing [Page 156] Streams, the most delight­ful Object, that ever Nature pro­duc'd. Beyond all these, and far be­low, in an inviting Vale, the venera­ble Colledge, an old, but noble Build­ing, raises it self, in the midst of all the Beauties of Nature; high-grown Trees, fruitful Plains, purling Rivu­lets, and spacious Gardens; adorn'd with all Variety of Sweets, that can delight the Senses.

At farther distance yet, on an As­cent, almost as high as that to the Royal Structure, you may behold that famous and noble Clifdon rise; a Palace erected by the Illustrious Duke of Buckingham: Who will leave this wondrous Piece of Architecture, to inform the future World, of the Greatness and Delicacy of his Mind; it being, for its Situation, its Pro­spects, and its marvellous Contrivan­ces, one of the finest Villa's of the World; at least, were it finished, as begun; and wou'd sufficiently declare the Magnifick Soul of the Hero, that caus'd it to be built, and contriv'd all [Page 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 delightful Foun­tains, both useful and beautiful. These are only wanting, to render the Place All Perfection, without Exception.

[Page 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, [Page 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.

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.

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, [Page 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.

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 [Page 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.

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 Em­blems [Page 172] of what I wou'd represent. My four Cyphers, therefore, shall be crown'd with these four Wreaths; of Olive, Laurel, Myrtle, and Roses: And the Letters that begin the Names of Iris and Damon, shall compose the Cyphers; though I must intermix some other Letters, that bear another Sense, and have another Signification.

The first Cypher.

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

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 [Page 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 Asse­ction. 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 [Page 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 Well­wishers 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 [Page 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 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, [Page 178] that being honour'd with the Glory of your Tenderness and Care, Iought, 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, [Page 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.

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 [Page 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 [Page 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.

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

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 [Page 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 [Page 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, [Page 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.

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 [Page 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!

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 [Page 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 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 [Page 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 [Page 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.

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 [Page 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.

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.

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: [Page 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.

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.

Extravagant with my Joys, I have stray'd beyond my Limits; for I was telling you of the wondrous Fineness [Page 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.

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.

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.

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 Co­lour [Page 222] and Proportion of your Arm is unimitable, and your Hand is dazling fine, small, and plump; long-pointed Fingers, delicately turn'd; dimpl'd on the Snowy Out-side, but adorn'd within with 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.’

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 [Page 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.

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, [Page 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 [Page 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 falls in the Choice of your Friends; and in chusing so well your Lover, you will stand an eter­nal President to all unreasonable fair Ones.

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 [Page 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 sor 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 [Page 234] he is the most tender of that Num­ber.

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. [Page 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.

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. [Page 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, [Page 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 [Page 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.