All the histories and novels written by the late ingenious Mrs. Behn entire in one volume : together with the history of the life and memoirs of Mrs. Behn never before printed / by one of the fair sex ; intermix'd with pleasant love-letters that pass'd betwixt her and Minheer Van Brun, a Dutch merchant, with her character of the countrey and lover : and her love-letters to a gentleman in England.

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Title
All the histories and novels written by the late ingenious Mrs. Behn entire in one volume : together with the history of the life and memoirs of Mrs. Behn never before printed / by one of the fair sex ; intermix'd with pleasant love-letters that pass'd betwixt her and Minheer Van Brun, a Dutch merchant, with her character of the countrey and lover : and her love-letters to a gentleman in England.
Author
Behn, Aphra, 1640-1689.
Publication
London :: Printed for Samuel Briscoe ...,
1698.
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"All the histories and novels written by the late ingenious Mrs. Behn entire in one volume : together with the history of the life and memoirs of Mrs. Behn never before printed / by one of the fair sex ; intermix'd with pleasant love-letters that pass'd betwixt her and Minheer Van Brun, a Dutch merchant, with her character of the countrey and lover : and her love-letters to a gentleman in England." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A27276.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 9, 2025.

Pages

Page [unnumbered]

Page 1

THE Lover's Watch: OR, THE ART OF Making LOVE. (Book 1)

The ARGUMENT.

'TIS in the most Happy and August Court of the Best and Greatest Mo∣narch of the World, that Damon, a young Nobleman, whom we will ren∣der under that Name, languishes for a Maid of Quality, who will give us leave to call her Iris:

Their Births are equally Illustrious; they are both Rich, and both Young; their Beauty such, as I dae not too nicely particularize, lest I should

Page 2

discover (which I am not permitted to do) who these charming Lovers are. Let it suffice, that Iris is the most fair and accomplisht Person that ever a∣dorn'd a Court; and that Damon is only worthy of the Glory of her Favour; for he has all that can render him lovely in the fair Eyes of the Amiable Iris. Nor is he Master of those Superficial Beau∣ties alone, that please at first Sight; he can charm the Soul with a thousand Arts of Wit and Gallan∣try. And, in a word, I may say, without flatter∣ing either, that there is no one Beauty, no one Grace, no perfection of Mind and Body, that wants to com∣pleat a Victory on both sides.

The Agreement of Age, Fortunes, Quality and Humours in these two fair Lovers, made the im∣patient Damon hope, that nothing would oppose his Passion; and if he saw himself every Hour lan∣guishing for the Adorable Maid, he did not howe∣ver despair: And if Iris sigh'd, it was not for fear of being one day more happy.

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

Page 3

After a little Intercourse of this kind, Damon be thought himself to ask Iris a Discretion, which he had won of her, before she left the Town; and in a Billet-doux to that purpose, prest her very ear∣nestly for it. Iris being infinitely pleas'd with his Importunity, suffer'd him to ask it often; and he ne∣ver fail'd of doing so.

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

Page 4

IRIS to DAMON.

IT must be confest, Damon, that you are the most importuning Man in the World. Your Billets have an hundred times de∣manded a Discretion, which you won of me; and tell me, you will not wait my Return, to be paid. You are either a very faithless Cre∣ditor, or believe me very unjust, that you dun with such Impatience. But, to let you see I am a Maid of Honour, and value my Word, I will acquit myself of this Obligation I have to you, and send you a Watch of my fashion; per∣haps you never saw any so good. It is not one of those, that have always something to be mended in it; but one that is without Fault, very just and good, and will remain so, as long as you continue to love me. But Damon, know, that the very Minute you cease to do so, the String will break, and it will go no more. 'Tis only useful in my Absence, and when I return, 'twill change its Motion: And though I have set it but for the Spring-time, 'twill serve you the whole Year round; and 'twill be necessary only, that you alter the business of the Hours (which my Cupid, in the middle of my Watch, points you out) according to the length of the

Page 5

Days and Nights. Nor is the Dart of that lit∣tle God directed to those Hours, so much to inform you how they pass, as how you ought to pass them, how you ought to employ those of your Absence from Iris. 'Tis there you shall find the whole Business of a Lover, from his Mistress; for I have design'd it a Rule to all your Actions. The Consideration of the Workman, ought to make you set a Value up∣on the Work: And though it be not an accom∣plisht, and perfect Piece; yet Damon, you ought to be grateful, and esteem it, since I have made it for you alone. But however I may boast of the Design, I know, as well as I believe, you love me; that you will not suffer me to have the Glory of it wholly, but will say in your heart,

That Love, the great Instructor of the Mind, That forms a new, and fashions every Soul, Refines the gross Defects of Humane kind; Humbles the Proud and Vain, inspires the Dull: Gives Cowards noble Heat in Fight, And teaches feeble Woman how to write: That doth the Ʋniverse command; Does from my Iris Heart direct her Hand.

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

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The Confession.
That Love's my Conduct where I go, And Love instructs me all I do. Prudence no longer is my Guide, Nor take I Counsel of my Pride. In vain does Honour now invade, In vain does Reason take my part; If against Love it do perswade, If it rebel against my Heart.
If the soft Ev'ning do invite, And I incline to take the Air, The Birds, the Spring, the Flowers no more delight; 'Tis Love makes all the Pleasure there; Love, which about me still I bear: I'm charm'd with what I thither bring, And add a Softness to the Spring.
If for Devotion I design, Love meets me, even at the shrine; In all my Worships claims a part, And robs even Heaven of my Heart. All Day does Counsel and controul, And all the Night employs my Soul. No wonder then, if all you think be true, That Love's concern'd in all I do for you.

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

Page 7

Who can resist his soft Commands? When he resolves, what God withstands?

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

My Present's delicate, and new, If by your Heart the Motion's set; According as that's false, or true, You'll find, my Watch will answer it.

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

Page 8

Perhaps I am mistaken here, My Heart may too much Credit give; But Damon, you can charm my Fear, And soon my Error undeceive.

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

Eight 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 had in the Night. If you have dream'd any thing to my Advantage, confirm yourself in that thought; but if to my Disadvantage, re∣nounce it, and disown the injurious Dream. 'Tis in this Hour also, that I give you leave to reflection all that I have ever said and done, that has been most obliging to you, and that gives you the most tender Sentiments.

Page 9

The Reflection.
Remember Damon, while your mind Reflects on things that charm and please, You give me Proofs that you are kind, And set my doubting Soul at ease: For when your Heart receives with Joy The thoughts of Favours which I give, My Smiles in vain I not imploy, And on the Square we love and live.
Think then on all I ever did, That e're was charming, e're was dear; Let nothing from that Soul be hid, Whose Griefs and Joys I feel and share. All that your Love and Faith have sought, All that your Vows aad Sighs have bought, Now render present to your Thought.

And for what's to come, I give you leave, Da∣mon, 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 Complai∣sance, my Goodness, and my Tenderness, which I confess to have for you, may pass for half Dreams; for 'tis most certain,

That, though the Favours of the Fair Are ever to the Lover dear,

Page 10

Yet, lest he should reproach that easie Flame, That buys its Satisfaction with its Shame, She ought but rarely to confess, How much she finds of Tenderness; Nicely to guard the yielding part, And hide the hard-kept Secret in her Heart.

For, let me tell you Damon, though the Passi∣on of a Woman of Honour be never so inno∣cent, and the Lover never so discreet and ho∣nest; her Heart feels I know not what of Re∣proach 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 spo∣ken to Damon, without finding, at the same in∣stant, my Face cover'd over with Blushes, and my Heart with sensible Pain. I sigh at the Re∣membrance of every Touch I have stol'n from his Hand, and have upbraided my Soul, which confesses so much guilty Love, as that secret de∣sire of Touching him made appear. I am an∣gry at 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 remem∣brance of such Arguments of too much Love. And these unquiet Sentiments alone, are suffi∣cient to perswade me, that our Sex cannot be reserv'd too much. And I have often, on these occasions, said to my self,

Page [unnumbered]

The Reserve.
Though Damon every Vertue have, With all that pleases in his Form, That can adorn the Just and Brave, That can the coldest Bosom warm; Though Wit and Honour there abound; Yet the Pursuer's ne'r pursu'd, And when my Weakness he has found, His Love will sink to Gratitude: While on the Asking Part he lives, 'Tis she th' Obliger is, who gives.
And he that, at one throw, the Stake has won, Gives over Play, since all the Stock is gone. And what dull Gamester ventures certain Store, With Losers, who can set no more.

Nine 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, therefore do not take too much pains in dressing your self, and setting your Person off.

Page 11

The Question.
Tell me! What can he design, Who in his Mistress absence will be fine? Why does he Cock, and Comb, and Dress? Why is the Cravat-string in print? What does th' Embroyder'd Coat confess? Why to the Glass this long Address, If there be nothing in't? If no new Conquest is design'd, If no Beauty fill his Mind?
Let Fools and Fops, whose Talents lie In being neat, in being spruce, Be drest, in vain, and tawdery; With Men of Sence, 'tis out of use: The only Folly that Distinction sets Between the noisie flutt'ring Fools and Wits.
Remember, Iris is away; And sighing, to your Valet cry, Spare your Perfumes and Care, to day, I have no business to be gay, Since Iris is not by. I'll be all negligent in Dress, And scarce set off for Complaisance. Put me on nothing that may please, But only such as may give no Offence.

Say to your self, as you are Dressing,

Would it please Heaven, that I mightsee Iris to day! But oh! 'tis impossible: There∣fore all that I shall see, will be but indifferent

Page 13

Objects,
since 'tis Iris only that I wish to see. And sighing, wisper to your self:

The Sigh.
Ah! Charming Object of my wishing Thought! Ah! Soft Idea of a distant Bliss! That only art in Dreams and Fancy brought, To give short Intervals of Happiness. But when I waking, find thou absent art; And with thee, all that I adore, What Pains, what Anguish fills my Heart! What Sadness seizes me all o're! All entertainments I neglect, Since Iris is no longer there: Beauty scarce claims my bare Respect, Since in the Throng I find not her. Ah then! How vain it were to dress, and show, Since all I wish to please, is absent now!

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

That when a Lover ceases to be blest With the dear Object he desires, Ah! How indifferent are the rest! How soon their Conversation tires! Though they a thousand Arts to please, invent, Their Charms are dull, their Wit impertinent.

Page 14

Ten a Clock.

Reading of Letters.

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

The Joy.
Who, but a Lover can express The Joys, the Pants, the Tenderness, That the soft Amorous Soul invades, While the dear Billet-doux he reads? Raptures Divine the Heart o're-flow; Which he that Loves not, cannot know.
A thousand Tremblings, thousand Fears, The short-breath'd Sighs, the joyful Tears; The Transport, where the Love's confest, The Change, where Coldness is exprest; The diff'ring Flames the Lover burns, As those are shy, or kind, by Turns.

Page 15

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, be∣lieve there, that Sence 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 Career 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, dis∣daining the Tyranny of Honour, and Rigid Custom, that Imposition on our Sex; and will, in spight of me, let you see, he Reigns abso∣lutely in my Soul.

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 dis∣pos'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 Bil∣let. One says a great many kind Things of

Page 16

course to a Lover, which one is not willing to write, or to give testify'd under one's Hand, Sign'd and Seal'd. But when once a Lover has brought his Mistress to that degree of Love, he ought to assure himself, she loves not at the common Rate.

Love's Witness.
Slight unpremediated Words are born By every common Wind, into the Air; Carelesly utter'd, die as soon as born, And in one instant, give both Hope and Fear: Breathing all Contraries with the same Wind, According to the Caprice of the Mind.
But Billets-doux are constant Witnesses, Substantial Records to Eternity; Just Evidence, who the Truth confess; On which, the Lover safely may rely: They're serious Thoughts, digested and resolv'd; And last, when Words are into Clouds devolv'd.

I will 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 disagreeable to you. I cou'd wish, your Pleasure might be extream, even to the Degree of suffering the Thought of my Ab∣sence 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,—

Page 17

The Transport.
O Iris! While you thus can charm, While at this Distance, you can wound and warm; My absent Torments I will bless and bare, That give me such dear Proofs, how kind you are. Present, the valu'd Store was only seen: Now I am rifling the bright Mass within.
Every dear past and happy Day, When Languishing at Iris Feet, I lay; When all my Prayers, and all my Tears cou'd move No more then her Permission, I should love: Vain with my Glorious Destiny, I thought, beyond, scarce any Heaven cou'd be.
But, Charming Maid, now I am taught, That Absence has a thousand Joys to give, On which, the Lovers, present, never thought, That recompence the Hours we grieve. Rather by Absence let me be undone, Than forfeit all the Pleasures that has won.

With this little Rapture, I wish you wou'd finish the Reading my Letters, shut your Scru∣tore, and quit your Cabinet; for my Love leads to Eleven a Clock.

Page 18

Eleven 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 would employ a whole Hour that way; and that you should never lose an Occasi∣on of writing to me, since you are assured of the Welcome I give your Letters. Perhaps 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 Compli∣ment; the handsom comprizing of which, in the fewest words, renders 'em the most agree∣able: But in Love we have a Thousand foolish things to say, that, of themselves, bear no great Sound, but have a mighty Sence 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 Uncon∣cerned, appears Meanness, and Easie Sense, at the best. But, Damon, you and I are none of those ill Judges of the Beauties of Love; we can penetrate beyond the Vulgar, and perceive the fine Soul in every Line, through all the humble Dress of Phrase; when possibly, they who think they discern it best in florid Language, do not see it at all. Love was not born, or bred

Page 19

in Courts, but Cottages; and nurs'd in Groves and Shades, smiles on the Plains, and wantons in the Streams; all unador'd, and harml•••••• Therefore, Damon, do not consult your Wit in this Affair, but Love alone; and speak all that he and Nature taught you, and let the fine Things you learn in Schools alone: Make use of those Flowers you have gather'd there, when you converse with States-men and the Gown. Let Iris possess your Heart in all its simple Innocence, that's the best Eloquence to her that loves; and this is my Instruction to a Lover, that would succeed in his Amours; for I have a Heart very difficult to please, and this is the nearest Way to it.

Advice to Lovers.
Lovers,-if you would gain a Heart, Of Damon learn to win the Prize; He'll shew you all its tend'rest Part, And where its greatest Danger lies. The Magazine of its Disdain; Where Honour, feebly guarded, does remain.
If present, do but little say; Enough the silent Lover speaks: But wait, and sigh, and gaze all Day: Such Rhet'rick, more than Languages takes. For Words, the dullest way do move; And utter'd more to shew your Wit, than Love.

Page 20

Let your Eyes tell her of your Heart: Its Story is, for Words, too delicate. Souls thus exchange, and thus impart, And all their Secrets can relate. A Tear, a broken Sigh, she'll understand; Or the soft trembling Pressings of the Hand.
Or if your Pain must be in Words exprest, Let 'em fall gently, unassur'd, and slow; And where they fail, your Looks may tell the rest. Thus Damon spoke, and I was conquer'd so. The witty Talker has mistook his Art; The modest Lover only charms the Heart.
Thus, while all Day you gazing sit, And fear to speak, and fear your Fate, You more Advantages by Silence get, Than the gay forward Youth, with all his Prate. Let him be silent here; but when away, Whatever Love can dictate, let him say.
There let the bashful Soul unvail, And give a Loose to Love and Truth. Let him improve the amorous Tale, With all the Force of Words, and Fire of Youth. There all, and any thing, let him express; Too long he cannot write, too much confess.

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

Page 21

The Invention.
Ah! he who first found out the Way Souls to each other to convey, Without dull Speaking, sure must be Something above Humanity. Let the fond World in vain dispute, And the first Sacred Mystery impute Of Letters, to the Learned Brood; And of the Glory, cheat a God: 'Twas Love alone that first the Art essay'd, And Psyche was the first fair yielding Maid That was by the dear Billet-doux betray'd.

It is an Art too ingenious to have been found out by Man, and too necessary to Lovers, not to have been invented by the God of Love him∣self. But, Damon, I do not pretend to exact from you those Letters of Gallantry which, I have told you, are filled with nothing but fine Thoughts, and writ with all the Arts of Wit and Subtilty: I would have yours still, all ten∣der unaffected Love, Words unchosen, Thoughts unstudied, and Love unfeigned. I had rather find more Softness than Wit, in your Passion; more of Nature than of Art; more of the Lo∣ver than the Poet. Nor would 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 yourself to make 'em fine, or write a great deal of Wit and Sence in a few Lines; that is the Notion of a witty Billet, in any Affair but that of Love:

Page 22

And have a Care, rather to avoid these Graces to a Mistress; and assure yourself, dear Damon, that what pleases the Soul pleases the Eye, and the Largeness or Bulk of your Letter shall ne∣ver 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, Ab∣sence would deface. Make use then, Damon, of your Time while it is given you, and thank me, that I permit you to write to me: Perhaps I shall not always continue in the Humor 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 would be a great Misfortune to you, for I have often hear you say, that,

To make the most happy 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ver suffer Martyrdom, one need only for 〈◊〉〈◊〉 him Seeing, Speaking, and Writing to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Object he loves.
Take all the Advanta•••• then you can, you cannot give me too often, Marks too powerful of your Passion: Writ therefore, during this Hour, every Day, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 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: Nay, if you exceed your Hour, you need not be asham'd. The Time you employ in this kind Devoir, id the Time that I shall be grateful for, and, no

Page 23

doubt, will recompense 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.

Twelve 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 dispense with your not thinking on me. But I would not have you go to one of those Temples, where the celebrated Beauties, and those that make a Profession of Gallantry, go; and which come thither, only to see, and be seen; and whi∣ther they repair, more to shew their Beauty and Dress, than to honour the Gods. If you will take my Advice, and oblige my Wish, you shall go to those that are least frequented; and you shall appear there, like a Man, that has a perfect Veneration for all things Sacred.

The Instruction.
Damon, if your Heart, and Flame, You wish, should always be the same,

Page 24

Do not give it leave to rove, Nor expose it to new Harms: E're you think on't, you may love, If you gaze on Beauty's Charms. If with me, you wou'd not part, Turn your Eyes into your Heart.
If you find a new Desire, In your easie Soul take Fire, From the tempting Ruine fly; Think it faithless, think it base: Fancy soon will fade, and die, If you wisely cease to gaze. Lovers should have Honour too, Or they pay but half Love's due.
Do not to the Temple go, With design to gaze, or show: What e're Thoughts you have abroad, Though you can deceive elsewhere, There's no feigning with your God; Souls should be all perfect there. The Heart that's to the Altar brought, Only Heaven should fill its Thought.
Do not your sober Thoughts perplex, By gazing on the Ogling Sex: Or if Beauty call your Eyes, Do not on the Object dwell; Guard your Heart from the Surprize, By thinking Iris doth excel. Above all earthly Things, I'd be, Damon, most belov'd by thee: And only Heaven must Rival me.

Page 25

One 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 Politi∣cians, 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 ri∣diculous Novels, which they pass off for Wit and Entertainment: Or else, some of those Re∣counters of Adventures, that are always telling of Intrigues, and that make a Secret, to a hun∣dred People, of a Thousand foolish things they have heard: Like a certain Pert and Imperti∣nent Lady of the Town, whose Youth and Beau∣ty being past, sets up for Wit, to uphold a fee∣ble Empire over idle Hearts; and whose Cha∣racter is this,—

Page 26

The Coquet.
Milinda, who had never been Esteem'd a Beauty at Fifteen, Always Amorous was, and Kind: To every Swain she lent an Ear. Free as Air, but False as Wind; Yet none complain'd, She was severe. She eas'd more than she made complain; Was always Singing, Pert, and Vain.
Where-e'er the Throng was, she was seen, And swept the Youths along the Green. With equal Grace she flatter'd all, And fondly proud of all Address; Her Smiles invite, her Eyes do call, And her vain Heart her Looks confess. She Rallies this, to that she Bow'd, Was Talking ever, Laughing loud.
On every side she makes Advance, And every where a Confidance. She tells for Secrets all she knows, And all to know she does pretend: Beauty in Maids she treats as Foes; But every handsom Youth, as Friend. Scandal still passes off for Truth; And Noise and Nonsence, Wit and Youth.
Coquet all o'er, and every part, Yet wanting Beauty, even of Art.

Page 27

Herds with the Ʋgly, and the Old; And plays the Critick on the rest Of Men, the Bashful, and the Bold; Either, and all, by Turns, likes best: Even now, tho' Youth be languisht, she Sets up for Love, and Gallantry.

This sort of Creature, Damon, is very dan∣gerous; 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 thou∣sand Impertinencies, and eternal Tattle. She passes for a judging Wit; and there is nothing so troublesome, as such a Pretender. She, per∣haps, may get some Knowledge of our Corre∣spondence; and then, no doubt, will improve it, to my disadvantage. Possibly she may rail at me; that is her Fashion, by the way of Friend∣ly Speaking; and an Aukward Commendation, the most effectual Way of Defaming, and Tra∣ducing. Perhaps she tells you, in a cold Tone, that you are a happy Man, to be belov'd by me: That Iris, indeed, is handsome; and she won∣ders, she has no more Lovers; but the Men are not of her Mind; if they were, you should have more Rivals. She commends my Face, but that I have blue Eyes, and 'tis pity my Complexion is no better: My Shape, but too much inclining to Fat. Cries—She would charm infinitely with her Wit, but that she knows too well, she is Mistress of it. And concludes,—But all together, she is well enough.—Thus she runs on, without giving you leave to edge in a Word, in my Defence; and ever and anon, crying

Page 28

up her own Conduct, and Management: Tell you, how she is opprest with Lovers, and fa∣tigu'd with Addresses; and recommending her self, at every turn, with a perceivable Cun∣ning: 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, tho' but for the Vanity of adding to the Num∣ber of her Lovers. When she sees a new Spark, the first thing she does, she enquires into his E∣state: If she find it such, as may (if the Cox∣comb be well manag'd) supply her Vanity, she makes Advances to him, and applies herself 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 Chara∣cter, I will not name who you should avoid; but all of this sort, I conjure you, wheresoever you find 'em. But if unlucky Chance throw you in their Way, hear all they say, without Cre∣dit, or Regard, as far as Decency will suffer you: Hear 'em, without approving their Fop∣pery: 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 ne∣ver asks any News, but of the Maid he loves.

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The Enquiry.
Damon, If your Love be True, To the Heart that you possess, Tell me; What have you to do Where you have no Tenderness? Her Affairs who cares to learn, For whom he has not some Concer?
If a Lover fain would know If the Object lov'd be true, Let her but industrious be To watch his Curiosity; Tho' ne'r so cold his Questions seem, They come from warmer Thoughts within.
When I hear a Swain enquire What gay Melinda does to live, I conclude, there us some Fire In a Heart inquisitive; Or 'tis, at least, the Bill that's set To shew, The Heart is to be Let.

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Two a Clock.

Dinner time.

LEave all those fond Entertainments, or you will disoblige 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 Diet. 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 abso∣lutely resign you, or dispence with your even so much as Thinking on me. 'Tis true, in seating yourself at Table, I would not have you placed over-against a very Beautiful Ob∣ject, for in such a one there are a thousand little Graces, in Speaking, Looking, and Laughing, that fail not to Charm if one gives way to the Eyes, to gaze and wander that way; in which, perhaps, in spight 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 placed yourself 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 〈◊〉〈◊〉, puts on another Air, than when she had no Design; and when you did not, by your

Page 31

continual looking on her, rouze her Vanity, and increase her easie Opinion of her own Charms. Perhaps she knows, I have some In∣terest in your Heart; and Prides herself, 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 and Conversation of other Beau∣ties, that every Look, or Word you give in favour of 'em, is an Indignity to my Reputa∣tion; and, which you cannot suffer, if you love me truly, and with Honour: And, assure yourself, 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 yourself, by Words, or Looks to any particular Person: Be as gay as you please: Talk and laugh with all, for this is not the Hour for Chagrin.

The Permission.
My Damon, tho' I stint your Love, I will not stint your Appetite; That I would have you still improve, By every new, and fresh Delight. Feast, till Apollo hides his Head; Or drink the am'rous God to Thetis Bed.

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Be like yourself: All witty, gay! And o're the Bottle bless the Board, The listening round will, all the Day, Be charm'd, and pleas'd with every Word, Tho' Venus Son inspire your Wit, 'Tis the Selenian God best utters it.
Here talk of ev'ry thing but me, Since ev'ry Thing you say with Grace. If not dispos'd your Humour be, And you'd this Hour in silence pass; Since something must the Subject prove Of Damon's Thoughts; let it be me, and Love.
But, Damon, this enfranchis'd Hour, No Bounds, or Laws, will I impose; But leave it wholly in your Pow'r, What Humour to refuse, or chuse. I Rules prescribe, but to your Flame; For I, your Mistress, not Physician, am.

Three a Clock.

Visits to Friends.

DAmon, my Watch is juster than you ima∣gine; 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

Page 33

the same Heart: And that Man would be very unhappy, who, as soon as he had a Mistress, should be obliged to renounce the Society of his Friends. I must confess, I would not that you should have so much Concern for them, as you have for me; for I have heard a sort of a Pro∣verb, 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 him∣self in a Heart, he reigns a Tyrant there, and will not suffer even Friendship, if it pretend to share his Empire there.

Cupid.
Love is a God, whose charming Sway Both Heaven, and Earth, and Seas obey. A Power that will not mingled be With any dull Equality. Since first from Heaven, which gave him Birth, He rul'd the Empire of the Earth, Jealous of Sov'raign Power, he rules, And will be Absolute in Souls.

I should 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 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 Mar∣rying,

Page 34

or Receiving the Addresses of Men, he has found, by Spight and Jealousies within, that that was Love, which he before took for Com∣plaisance, 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 per∣fectly assured they were Friends, and not Lo∣vers. 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 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 Ima∣gination of a Conquest, as any Coquet of us all; though, at the same time, you despise the Vi∣ctim, you think it adds a Trophy to your Fame. And I have seen a Man dress, and trick, and adjust his Looks and Mien, to make a Visit to a Woman he lov'd, nor ever cou'd love, not 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 Sence 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

Page 35

curious Humour, tho' he should say nothing that tends to it, more 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 lyes in his Looks, he deceives with his Mien and Fashion, and cheats with e∣very 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 Sence, 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 easie he cou'd Conquer, and of how great Force his Charms were: And why shou'd I be angry, if all the Town lov'd him, since he lov'd none but Iris? Oh foolish Pleasure! How little Sence 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 insensi∣ble? But this (Damon) is rather what is but too much practised by your Sex, than any Guilt I charge on you; tho' Vanity be an Ingredient that Nature very seldom omits in the Compo∣sition 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 myself sometimes of finding a secret

Page 36

Joy of being ador'd, tho' I even hate my Wor∣shipper. 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 so∣berer Thoughts, that I find surmounts my Weak∣ness and Indiscretion; and I hope Damon finds the same: For, should he have any of those At∣tachments, I should have no Pity for him.

The Example.
Damon, if you wou'd have me true, Be you my President and Guide: Example sooner we pursue, Than the dull Dictates of our Pride. Precepts of Vertue are too weak an Aim: 'Tis Demonstration, that can best reclaim.
Shew me the Path you'd have me go; With such a Guide, I cannot stray: What you approve, whate'er you do, It is but just I bend the Way. If true, my Honour favours your Design: If false, Revenge is the Result of mine,
A Lover true, a Maid sincere, Are to be priz'd, as Things Divine: 'Tis Justice makes the Blessing dear; Justice of Love, without Design. And she that Reigns not in a Heart alone, Is never safe, or easie, on her Throne.

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Four a Clock.

General Conversation.

IN this Visiting-Hour, many People will hap∣pen to meet at one and the same time toge∣ther, in a Place: And as you make not Visits to Friends, to be silent, you ought to enter into Conversation with 'em; but those Conversati∣ons 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; tho' Secrets never so trivial, yet, since utter'd between Lovers, they deserve to be priz'd at a higher rate: For what can shew a Heart more indifferent and indiscreet, than to declare in any Fashion, or with Mirth, or Joy, the tender Things a Mistress says to a Lover; and which possibly, related at Second Hand, bear not the same Sence, because they have not the same Sound, and Air, they had origi∣nally, 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 Gaiety.) Perhaps the soft Ex∣pressions suit not so well the harsher Voice of the Masculine Lover, whose Accents were not

Page 38

form'd for so much Tenderness; at least, not of that sort; for Words that have the same Meaning, are alter'd from their Sence, by the least Tone, or Accent of the Voice; and those proper, and fitted to my Soul, are not, possibly, so to yours, tho' both have the same Efficacy up∣on us: yours upon my Heart, as mine upon yours; and both will be misunderstood by the unjudging World. Besides this, there is a Ho∣liness in Love that's true, that ought not to be prophan'd: And as the Poet truly says, at the latter end of an Ode; of which, I will recite the whole.

The Invitation.
Aminta, fear not to confess, The charming Secret of thy Tenderness: That which a Lover can't conceal, That which, to me, thou should'st reveal; And is but what thy lovely Eyes express. Come, whisper to my panting Heart, That heaves, and meets thy Voice half way: That guesses what thou wou'dst impart, And languishes for what thou hast to say. Confirm my trembling Doubt, and make me know, Whence all these Blushings, and these Sighings flow.
Why dost thou scruple to unfold A Mystery that does my Life concern? If thou ne'er speak'st, it will be told; For Lovers all things can discern, From every Look, from every bashful Grace, That still succeed each other in thy Face, I shall the dear transporting Secret learn:

Page 39

But 'tis a Pleasure not to be exprest, To hear it by the Voice confest, When soft Sighs breathe it on my panting Breast.
All calm and silent is the Grove, Whose shading Boughs resist the Day: Here thou may'st blush, and talk of Love, While only Winds, unheeding, stay, That will not bear the Sound away: While I, with solemn awful Joy, All my attentive Faculties employ; List'ning to every valu'd Word; And in my Soul, the Sacred Treasure hoard. There, like some Mystery Divine, The wondrous Knowledge I'll enshrine. Love can his Joys no longer call his own, Than the dear Secret's kept unknown.

There is nothing more true, than those two last Lines; and that Love ceases to be a Plea∣sure, 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 misinterpret Love, as they do Religion; eve∣ry one judging it, according to the Notion he had of it, or the Talent of his Sence. 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 right∣ly comprehended; and indeed, cannot be, but to a Soul very delicate. Nor will he make him∣self known to the Vulgar: There must be an

Page 40

uncommon Fineness in the Mind, that contains him; the rest, he only visits in as many Dis∣guises, 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 great∣est Flatterer in the World: And he possesses e∣very one with a Confidence, that they are in the Number of his Elect; and they think, they know him perfectly, when nothing but the Spirits re∣fin'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 disco∣ver it to, and as many several Ways. I advise you therefore (Damon) to make no Confidents 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 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 Lo∣ver 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 suits not with that Discre∣tion,

Page 41

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 Fol∣•••• 〈…〉〈…〉 gain'd a Credit with 'em, and 〈…〉〈…〉 all they hear; telling 'em they do 〈…〉〈…〉 senting Gestures, Silence, or open 〈…〉〈…〉. For my part, I shou'd not con∣•••• 〈…〉〈…〉 that shou'd answer a sort of ci∣•••• 〈…〉〈…〉 for Love, somewhat briskly, and by 〈…〉〈…〉 understand, they are already en∣•••• 〈…〉〈…〉 directing 'em, to Fools, that will possible 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to 'em, and credit such Stuff, 〈…〉〈…〉 out of a Folly so infamous and disin∣•••• ••••••. In such a Case. only I am willing you 〈◊〉〈◊〉 own your Passion; not that you need tell 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Object which has charm'd you: And you 〈◊〉〈◊〉 say, you are already a Lover, without 〈◊〉〈◊〉, you are belov'd. For so long as you 〈…〉〈…〉 have a Heart unengag'd, you are ex∣•••• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 all the little Arts and Addresses of this 〈◊〉〈◊〉 obliging Procurers of Love, and give 〈…〉〈…〉 hope they have of making you their 〈…〉〈…〉 For your own Reputation then, and 〈…〉〈…〉 and Honour, shun such Conversations; for they are neither credible to you, nor plea∣sing to me: And believe me (Damon) a true lover has no Curiosity, but what concerns his Mistress.

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Five a Clock.

Dangerous Visits.

I Foresee, or fear, that these busie, imperti∣nent Friends will oblige you to 〈…〉〈…〉 Ladies of their Acquaintance, or 〈…〉〈…〉 My Watch does not forbid you. Yet I must tell you, I apprehend Danger in such Visits, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I fear, you will have need of all your 〈◊〉〈◊〉 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 yourself upon your Guard; for the Business of most part of the Fair Sex, is, to seek only the Conquest of Hearts: All their Civili∣ties are but so many Interests; and they do nothing without Design. And in such Conver∣sations, there is always a Je ne scay quoy; that is fear'd; especially when Beauty is accompanied with Youth and Gaiety; and which they assume upon all Occasions that may serve their Turn. And I confess, 'tis not an easie matter to be just in these Hours and Conversations: The most certain Way of being so, is to imagine I read all your Thoughts, observe all your Looks, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 hear all your Words.

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The Caution.
My Damon, if your Heart be kind, Do not too long with Beauty stay; For there are certain Moments, when the Mind Iss hurry'd, by the Force of Charms, away. 〈…〉〈…〉, a Minute Critical there lies, 〈…〉〈…〉 on Love, and takes you by Surprize.
Lover pleas'd with Constancy, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 still as if the Maid he lov'd were by: 〈◊〉〈◊〉 if his Actions were in View; As if his Steps she did pursue: Or that his very Soul she knew. 〈…〉〈…〉; for tho' I am not present there, My Love, my Genius, waits you every-where.

I am very much pleas'd with the Remedy, you say, you make use of to defend yourself from the Attacks that Beauty gives your Heart; which in one of your Billets, you said was this, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to this purpose:

The Charm for Constancy.
〈◊〉〈◊〉 to keep my Soul entire, and true, It thinks, each Moment of the Day, on you. And when a charming Face I see, That does all other Eyes incline, It has no influence on me: I think it ev'n deform'd to thine. My Eyes, my Soul, and Sense, regardless move To all, but the dear Object of my Love.

Page 44

But (Damon) I know all Lovers are naturally Flatterers, though they do not think so them∣selves; because every one makes a Sense of Beauty according to his own Fancy. But per∣haps you will say in your own Defence, That 'tis not Flattery to say, an unbeautiful Woman it beautiful, if he that says so believes she is so. I shou'd be content to acquit you of the 〈◊〉〈◊〉, 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 Opini∣on 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 thy believing I am one. 'Tis not to draw new As∣surances, 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 the 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; '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

Page 45

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 〈◊〉〈◊〉: On the other side, she was extreamly diss••••isfy'd, and uneasie at his Opinion, of his being more in her Favour than she desir'd he shou'd believe. So that one Night, having left her full of Pride and Anger, she next Morning sent him these Verses, instead of a Billet-doux.

The Defiance.
By Heaven 'tis false; I am not vain; And rather wou'd the Subject be Of your Indifference, or Disdain, Than Wit, or Raillery.
Take back the trifling Praise you give, And pass it on some easier Fool, Who may th' injuring Wit believe, That turns her into Ridicule.
Tell her, she's witty, fair, and gay; With all the Charms that can subdue: Perhaps she'll credit what you say: But curse me, if I do.
If your Diversion you design, On my good Nature you have prest: Or if you do intend it mine. You have mistook the Jest.

Page 46

Philander, fly that guilty Art: Your charming, facil Wit will find, It cannot play on a Heart, That is sincere and kind.
For Wit with Softness does reside, Good Nature is with Pity stor'd; But Flatt'ry's the Result of Pride, And fawns to be Ador'd.
Nay, even when you smile and bow, Tis to be render'd more compleat. Your Wit, with ev'ry Grace you shew, Is but a Popular Chat.
Laugh on, and call me Coxcomb—do; And, your Opinion to improve, Think, all you think of me, is true; And to confirm it, swear I love.
Then, while you wreck my Soul with Pain, And of a cruel Conquest boast, 'Tis you, Philander, that are vain, And witty at my cost.

Possibly, the angry Aminta, when she writ these Verses, was more offended, that he be∣liev'd himself belov'd, than that he flatter'd; tho' she wou'd seem to make that a great part of the Qsuarrel, 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

Page 47

ourselves: 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 he wish she 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, with∣out 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 everlasting Protestati∣ons, 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 Sence 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 should 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 Friend∣ship. 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 lovu you: And if I cannot find the Cheat, I am con∣tented you shou'd deceive me on, because yoe do it so agreeably.

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Six a Clock.

Walk without Design.

YOU yet have Time to Walk; and my Watch foresaw you cou'd not refuse your Friends. You must to the Park, or to 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 In∣trigues are carried on, and as many more de∣sign'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! a∣bove all, have a Care of what you say. You are not reproachable, if you should remain silent, all the Time of your Walk; nor wou'd those that know you, believe it the Effects of Dulness, but Melancholy. And if any of your Friends ask you, Why you are so? I will give you leave to sigh, and say—

The Mall-Content.
Ah? Wonder not, if I appear Regardless of the Pleasures here; Or that my Thoughts are thus confin'd To the just Limits of my Mind.

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My Eyes take no Delight to rove O've all the smiling Charmers of the Grove, Since she is absent, whom they love.
Ask me not, Why the flow'ry Spring, Or the gay little Birds that sing, Or the young Streams, no more delight, Or Shades, and Arbours can't invite? Why the soft Murmurs of the Wind, Within the thick grown Groves confin'd, No more my Soul transport, or cheer? Since all that's charming,—Iris is not here; Nothing seems glorious, nothing fair.
Then suffer me to wander thus, With down-cast Eyes, and Arms a-cross. Let Beauty unregarded go; The Trees and Flowers, unheeded strow, Let purling Streams neglected glide; With all the Spring's adorning Pride. 'Tis Iris only Soul can give To the dull Shades, and Plains, and make 'em thrive; Nature, and my lost Joys retrieve.

I do not, for all this, wholly confine your Eyes: You may look indifferently on all; but with a particular Regard on none. You may praise all the Beauties in general; but no single one too much. I will not exact from you, nei∣ther an entire Silence: There are a thousand Civilities you ought to pay to all your Friends and Acquaintance; and while 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 unnecessa∣ry,

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and uncomplaisant Sullenness, gain that of a Person too negligent, or morose. I wou'd have you remiss in no one Punctilio of Good Manners. I wou'd have you very just, and pay all you owe; but in these Affairs, be not over generous, and give away too much. In fine, You may Look, Speak, and Walk; but (Damon) do it all without Design: And while you do so, remember, that Iris sent you this Advice.

The Warning.
Take heed, my Damon, in the Grove, Where Beauties, with Design, do walk: Take heed, my Damon, how you look and talk; For there are Ambuscades of Love. The very Winds, that softly blow, Will help betray your easie Heart; And all the Flowers that blushing grow; The Shades above, and Rivulets below, Will take the Victor's part.
Remember (Damon) all my Safety lies In the just Conduct of your Eyes. The Heart, by Nature, good and brave, Is to those treacherous Guards, a Slave. If they let in the fair destructive Foe, Scarce Honour can defend her Noble Seat: Ev'n she will be corrupted too, Or driv'n to a Retreat. The Soul is but the Cully to the Sight, And must be pleas'd in what that takes delight.

Therefore, examine your self well; and con∣duct your Eyes, during this Walk, like a Lo∣ver,

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that seeks nothing: And do not stay too long in these places.

Seven 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 recol∣lect 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 Per∣son he loves, is to be suspected to love but very indifferently, and to think very poorly of the Sence and Generosity of his Mistress. But, that you may acquit your self like a Man, and a Lo∣ver of Honour, and leave me no doubt upon my Soul; think of 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 nei∣ther add, nor diminish, in your Relation; the Truth and Sincerity of your Confession will at∣tone, even for little Faults that you shall com∣mit 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

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hear it from you than another: For 'tis a sort of Repentance to accuse yourself; 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 for∣give you. The noblest Quality of Man, is Sin∣cerity; 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 be∣lieve, there ought to be double Dealing, and an Art, practis'd in Love, as well as in War. ut Oh! beware of that Notion.

Sincerity.
Sincerity! Thou greatest Good! Thou Vertue, which so many boast! And art so nicely understood! And often, in the Searching, lost. For when we do approach thee near, The fine Idea, fram'd of thee, Appears not now so charming fair, As the most useful Flattery. Thou hast no Glitt'ring to invite; Nor tak'st the Lover at first Sight.
The modest Vertue shuns the Croud, And lives, like Vestals, in a Cell: In Cities 'twill not be allow'd; Nor takes Delight, in Courts to dwell. 'Tis Nonsence with the Man of Wit; And ev'n a Scandal to the Great; For all the Young, and Fair, unfit; And scorn'd by wiser Fops of State.

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〈…〉〈…〉 as never known To the false 〈◊〉〈◊〉, or the falsr Gown.
And (Damon) tho' thy Noble Blood Be most Illustr'ous, and Refin'd; Tho' ev'ry Grace, and ev'ry Good▪ Adorn thy Person, and thy Mind; 〈◊〉〈◊〉, if this Vertue shine not there; (This God-like Vertue, which alone, Wer't thou less Witty, Brave, or Fair, Wou'd for all these, less priz'd, attone:) My tender Folly I'd controul, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 scorn the Conquest of thy Soul.

Eight 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, more than at other times; and reproach him with Dulness. For 'tis most cer∣tain, 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

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his Letter? And if he examin'd the Air of my Face, when I took it? If I blush'd, or look'd pale? If my Hand trembled, or I spoke to him with short interrupting Sighs? If I ask'd 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 im∣patient to read, you, with the more Haste 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Earnestness, demand all you expect from him; and that you may the better know, what Hu∣mour I was in, when I writ that to you. For, Oh! A Lover has a thousand little Fears, and Dreads, he knows not why. In fine, make him recount to you all that past, while he was with 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, pro∣ceeds from thence.

The Assurance.
How shall a Lover come to know, Whether he's belov'd, or no? What dear Things must she impart, To assure him of her Heart? Is it, when her Blushes rise; And she languish in her Eyes: Tremble, when he does approach: Look pale, and faint, at every touch?
Is it, when a thousand ways, She does his Wit and Beauty praise?

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〈◊〉〈◊〉 venture to explain, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 moving Words, a Pain; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 so indiscreet she grows; To confirm it with her Vows.
These some short-liv'd Passion moves, 〈…〉〈…〉 Object's by, she loves; 〈…〉〈…〉 and sudden Fire 〈…〉〈…〉 by some fond Desire: 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Goldness will ensue, When the Lover's out of View. Then she reflects with Scandal, o'er 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Scene, that past before. 〈◊〉〈◊〉, with Blushes, wou'd recal▪ 〈◊〉〈◊〉 unconsid'ring Criminal; 〈…〉〈…〉 thousand Faults she'll find, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 bide the Errors of her Mind. 〈…〉〈…〉 weight is found in words, As no substantial Faith affords: Deceiv'd, and briff'd all may be, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that frail Security.
But a well-digested Flame, That will always be the same; And that does, from Merit, grow Establish'd by our Reason too; By a better way, will prove, 'Tis th' unerring Fire of Love. Lasting Records it will give: And, that all she says, may live, Sacred and Authentick stand, Her Heart confirms it by her Hand. If this, a Maid, well born, allow; Damon, believe her just and true.

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Nine a Clock.

Melancholy Reflections.

YOU will not have much trouble 〈…〉〈…〉 what my Watch designs here. 〈…〉〈…〉 be no Thought more afflicting, than that 〈…〉〈…〉 Absence of a Mistress; and which, the 〈…〉〈…〉 of the Heart will soon make you finde, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Thousand Fears oppress him; he is jealous of every Body, and envies those Eyes and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that are charm'd, by being near the 〈…〉〈…〉 dor'd. He grows impatient, and makes a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sand Resolutions, and as soon aband•••••• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 He gives himself wholly up to the 〈…〉〈…〉 Incertainty; and by degrees, from 〈…〉〈…〉 Thought to another, winds himself 〈…〉〈…〉 sup∣portable Chagrin. Take this 〈…〉〈…〉 think on your Misfortunes, which 〈…〉〈…〉 small to a Soul that is wholly sensible of Love, And every one knows, that a Love, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of the Object of his Heart, is depriv'd of 〈…〉〈…〉 World, and Inconsolable. For though 〈…〉〈…〉 wishes, without ceasing, for the dear 〈…〉〈…〉 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 sin∣cerely, it must be confess'd, 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,

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which perpetual Presence would fatiate; 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 ruine your Repose: And is it impossi∣ble to be, at once, an absent Lover, and happy too? For my part, I can meet with nothing that can please, in the absence of Damon; but, on the contrary, I see all things with Disgust. I will flatter my self, that 'tis so with you; and that the least Evils appear great Misfortunes; and that all those who speak to you of any thing but of what you love, increase your Pain, by a new remembrance of her Absence. I will be∣lieve, 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 would not, how∣ever, have your Melancholy too extream; and to lessen it, you may perswade yourself, that I partake it with you; for, I remember, in your last you told me, you would wish we should be both griev'd at the same time, and both at the same time pleas'd; and, I believe, I love too well, not to obey you.

Love Secur'd.
Love, of all Joys, the sweetest is, The most substantial Happiness; The softest Blessing Life can crave; The noblest Passion Souls can have. Yet, if no Interruptions were, No Difficulties came between, 'Twou'd not be render'd half so dear. The Skie is gayest when small Clouds are seen.

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The sweetest Flower, the blushing Rose, Amidst the Thorns securest grows.
If Love were one continu'd Joy, How soon the Happiness wou'd cloy! The wiser Gods did this foresee; And, to preserve the Bliss entire, Mix'd it with Doubt and Jealousie, Those necessary Fuels to the Fire, Sustain'd the fleeting Pleasures with new Fears; With little Quarrels, Sighs, and Tears; With Absence, that tormenting Smart, That makes a Minute seem a Day, A Day a Year, to the impatient Heart, That languishes in the delay, But cannot sigh the tender Pain away; That still returns, and with a greater Force, Through every Vein it takes its grateful Course. But whatsoe'er the Lover does sustain, Tho' he still sigh, complain, and fear; It cannot be a Mortal Pain, When Two do the Affliction bear.

Ten 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 could be drawn to allow it any other.

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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 re∣ceive your Addresses; nay, thought 'em agree∣able; 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 could not escape expiring, if I did not give you leave to sigh for me, and gaze upon me; and that there was an absolute neces∣sity for me, either to give you leave to love, or die. And all those Rigors my Severity has made you suffer, ought now to be recounted to your Memory, as Subjects of Pleasure; and you ought to esteem and judge of the Price of my Affecti∣ons 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 valued me less, if I had been more easily gain'd: But 'tis enough to please you, to think and know I am gain'd; no matter when or how. When, after a thousand Cares and Inquietudes, that which we wish for succeeds to our Desires, the Remembrance of those Pains and Pleasures we encounter'd, in arriving at it, gives us a new Joy.

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

Consider then, that you had not only the Happiness to please me, but that you only

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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; contra∣ry 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 Pas∣sion, on all Occasions that presented themselves: For, after that, from my Eyes and Tongue you knew the Sentiments of my Heart, I confirm'd that Truth to you by my Letters. Confess, (Damon) that if you make these Reflections, you will not pass this Hour very disagreeably.

Beginning Love.
As free as wanton Winds I liv'd, That unconcern'd do play: No broken Faith, no Fate I griev'd; No Fortune gave me Joy. A dull Content crown'd all my Hours, My Heart no Sighs opprest; I call'd in vain on no deaf Pow'rs, To ease a tortur'd Breast.
The sighing Swains regardless pin'd, And strove in vain to please: With Pain I civilly was kind; But could afford no Ease. Tho' Wit and Beauty did abound, The Charm was wanting still, That could inspire the tender wound, Or bend my careless will.
Till in my Heart a kindling Flame Your softer Sighs had blown;

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Which, I with striving, Love and Shame, Too sensibly did own. Whate'er the God before cou'd plead; What'er the Youth's Desert; The feeble Siege in vain was laid Against my stubborn Heart.
At first my Sighs and Blushes spoke, Just when your Sighs wou'd rise; And when you gaz'd I wish'd to look, But durst not meet your Eyes. I trembled, when my Hand you press'd; Nor cou'd my Guilt controul, But Love prevail'd, and I confess'd The Secrets of my Soul.
And when, upon the giving part, My Present to avow, By all the Ways confirm'd my Heart, That Honour wou'd allow; Too mean was all that I cou'd say, Too poorly understood: I gave my Soul the noblest way, My Letters made it good.

You may believe I did not easily, nor sud∣denly, bring my Heart to this Condescension; but I lov'd, and all things in Damon were ca∣pable of making me resolve so to do. I could not think it a Crime, where every Grace, and every Vertue justified my Choice: And when once one is assur'd of this, we find not much dif∣ficulty in owning that Passion which will so well commend ones Judgment; and there is no Ob∣stacle that Love does not surmount. I confess'd

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my Weakness a thousand ways, before I told it you, and I remember all those things with Plea∣sure, but yet I remember 'em also with Shame.

Eleven a Clock.

Supper.

I Will believe (Damon) that you have been so well entertain'd, during this Hour, and have found so much Sweetness in these Thoughts, that if one did not tell you, that Supper waits, you would lose yourself in Reflections so plea∣sing, many more Minutes. But you must go, where you are expected; perhaps, among the Fair, the Young, the Gay; but do not abandon your Heart to too much Joy, tho' you have so much Reason to be contented; but the greatest Pleasures are alwaies imperfect, if the Ob∣ject belov'd do not partake of it. For this Reason be cheerful 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. Remem∣ber, I am covetous of every Word you speak, that is not address'd 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,

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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 speak∣ing little, has reduc'd me to a perfect Abhor∣rence of those Wordy Sparks, that value them∣selves upon their ready and much Talking upon every trivial Subject, and who have so good an Opinion of their Talent that way, they will let no body edge in a Word, or a Reply; but will make all the Conversation themselves, that they may pass for very Entertaining Persons, and pure Company. But the Verses—

The Reformation.
Philander, since you'll have it so, I grant, I was impertinent; And, till this Moment, did not know, Through all my Life, what 'twas I meant. Your kind Opinion was the flattering Glass, In which my Mind found how deform'd it was.
In your clear Sense, which knows no Art, I saw the Errors of my Soul; And all the Foibless of my Heart, With one Reflection, you controul. Kind as a God, and gently you chastise: By what you hate, you teach me to be wise.
Impertinence, my Sex's Shame, That has so long my Life pursu'd, You with such Modesty reclaim, As all the Women has subdu'd. To so Divine a Power what must I owe, That renders me so like the perfect You?

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That Conversable thing I hate Already, with a just Disdain, That prides himself upon his Prate, And is, of Words, that Nonsence vain. When in you few appears such Excellence, As have reproach'd, and charm'd me into Sense.
For ever may I list'ning sit, Tho' but each Hour a Word be born; I would attend the coming Wit, And bless what can so well inform. Let the dull World henceforth to Words be dam'd; I'm into nobler Sense than Talking sham'd.

I believe you are so good a Lover, as to be of my Opinion; and that you will neither force yourself against Nature, nor find much occasion to lavish out those excellent things that must proceed from you, whenever you speak. If all Women were like me, I should have more rea∣son to fear your Silence than your Talk, for you have a thousand waies to charm without speak∣ing; and those which to me shew a great deal more Concern. But (Damon) you know, the greatest part of my Sex judge the fine Gentle∣man by the Volubility of his Tongue, by his Dexterity in Repartee, and cry,—Oh! he never wants fine things to say: He's eternally talking the most surprizing things. But (Damon) 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

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give me cause to suspect you have deceiv'd me in your Temper.

Twelve a Clock.

Complaisance.

NEvertheless (Damon) Civility requires a little Complaisance after Supper; and I am assur'd, you can never want that, though, I confess, you are not accus'd of too general a Complaisance, and do not often make use of it to those Persons you have an Indifference for; though one is not the less esteemable, for having more of this than one ought; and though an excess of it be a Fault, 'tis a very 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 Vir∣tue, you may apply it to me: And if you dare not say it aloud, at least, let your Heart an∣swer in this Language:

Yes, the fair Object, whom you praise, Can give us Love a thousand ways. Her Wit and Beauty charming are; But still my Iris is more fair.

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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; Oh! with what Pleasure do I listen! and with Plea∣sure answer 'em, either with my Eyes, or Tongue—

That Lover may his Silvia warm, But cannot, like my Damon, charm.

If I have not all those excellent Qualities you meet with in those beautiful People, I am, however, very glad that Love prepossesses your Heart to my Advantage: And I need not tell you (Damon) that a true Lover ought to per∣swade 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 yourself.—

The Regret.
Alas! and must the Sun decline Before it have inform'd my Eyes Of all that's glorious, all that's fine, Of all I sigh for, all I prize? How joyful were those happy Days, When Iris spread her charming Rays, Did my unwearied Heart inspire With never-ceasing awful Fire! And e'ery Minute gave me new Desire▪

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But now, alas! all dead and pale, Like Flow'rs that wither in the Shade; Where no kind Sun-beams can prevail, To raise its cold and fading Head, I sink into my useless Bed. I grasp the senceless Pillow as I lie; A thousand times, in vain, I sighing cry, Ah! wou'd to Heaven my Iris were as nigh.

One a Clock.

Impossibility to Sleep.

YOU have been up long enough; and Cupid, who takes care of your Health, tells you, 'tis time for you to go to Bed. Perhaps you may not sleep as soon as you are laid, and possibly 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 Acti∣ons 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

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Cheeks wet with Tears, that insensibly glide down at a thousand Thoughts that present them∣selves soft and afflicting. I partake of all your Inquietude. On other things I think with In∣difference, if ever my Thoughts do stray from the more agreeable Object. I find, however, a little Sweetness in his 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 En∣tertainment of all my Thoughts, I am no more in yours; and perhaps you are thinking of those things that immortalize the Young and Brave; either by those Glories the Muses flatter you with, or that of Bellona, and the God of War; and serving now a Monarch whose glorious Acts in Arms has out-gone all the feign'd and real Heroes of any Age, who has, himself, out-done whatever History can produce of Great and Brave, and set so illustrious an Example to the Under-World, that it is not impossible, as much a Lover as you are, but you are thinking now how to render yourself worthy the Glory of such a God-like Master, by projecting a thousand things of Gallantry and Danger. And tho', I confess, such Thoughts are proper for your Youth, your Quality, and the Place you have the Honour to hold under our Sovereign, yet let me tell you (Damon) you will not be without In∣quietude, if you think of either being a delicate Poet, or a brave Warriour; 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:

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Love and Glory.
Beneath the kind protecting Lawrel's shade, For sighing Lovers, and for Warriours made, The soft Adonis and rough Mars were laid.
Both were design'd to take their Rest; But Love, the gentle Boy, opprest, And false Alarms shook the stern Hero's Breast.
This thinks to soften all his Toils of War, In the dear Arms of the obliging Fair▪ And That, by Hunting to divert his Care.
All Day, o'er Hills and Plains, wild Beasts he chas'd, Swift as the flying Winds, his eager haste, In vain! the God of Love pursues as fast.
But, oh! no Sports, no Toils divertive prove, The Evening still returns him to the Grove, To sigh and languish for the Queen of Love.
Where Elegies and Sonnets he does frame, And to the list'ning Ecchoes sighs her Name, And on the Trees carves Records of his Flame.
The Warriour, in the dusty Camp all Day, With ratling Drums and Trumpets does essay, To fright the tender flatt'ring God away.
But still, alas, in vain: whate'er Delight, What Care he takes the wanton Boy to fright, Love still revenges it at Night.

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'Tis then he haunts the Royal Tent, The sleeping Hours in Sighs are spent, And all his Resolutions does prevent.
In all his Pains, Love mix'd his Smart; In every Wound he feels a Dart; And the soft God is trembling in his Heart.
Then he retires to shady Groves, And there, in vain, he seeks Repose, And strives to fly from what he cannot lose.
While thus he lay, Bellona came, And with a generous fierce Disdain Ʋpbraids him with his feeble Flame.
Arise, the World's great Terror, and their Care; Behold the glitt'ring Host from far, That waits the Conduct of the God of War.
Beneath these glorious Lawrels, which were made To Crown the Noble Victor's Head, Why thus supinely art thou laid?
Why on that Face, where awful Terror grew, Thy Sun-parc'd Cheeks, why do I view The shining Tracks of falling Tears bedew?
What God has wrought these universal Harms? What fatal Nymph, what fatal Charms Has made the Hero deaf to War's Alarms?
Now let the Conqu'ring Ensigns up be furl'd: Learn to be gay, be soft, and curl'd; And idle, lose the Empire of the World.

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In fond Effeminate Delights go on; Lose all the Glories you have won: Bravely resolve to love, and be undone.
'Tis thus the Martial Virgin pleads; Thus she the Am'rous God perswades To fly from Venus, and the flow'ry Meads.

You see here that Poets and Warriours are oftentimes in Affliction, even under the Shades of their protecting Lawrels; and let the Nymphs and Virgins sing what they please to their Me∣mory, under the Mirtles, and on Flow'ry Beds, much better Days than in the Campaign. 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 employs a brave Soul, and all his Pleasures are solid and lasting; and when one has a wor∣thy 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 enter∣tain'd in Dreams.

Two a Clock.

Conversation in Dreams.

I Doubt not but you will think it very bold and arbitrary, that my Watch should pretend to rule even your Sleeping Hours, and that my Cupid should govern your very Dreams; which

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are but Thoughts disorder'd, in which Reason has no part; Chimera's of the Imagination, and no more: But tho' my Watch does not pretend to Counsel unreasonable, yet you must allow it here; if not to pass the Bounds, at least, to ad∣vance to the utmost limits of it. I am assur'd, that after having thought so much of me in the Day, you will think of me also in the Night. And the first Dream my Watch permits you to make, is to think you are in Conversation with me.

Imagine (Damon) that you are talking to me of your Passion, with all the Transport of a Lover, and that I hear you with Satisfaction: That all my Looks and Blushes, while you are speaking, gives you new Hopes and Assurances, that you are not indifferent to me, and that I give you a thousand Testimonies of my Ten∣derness, 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 Tenderness, Heart for Heart, and Pleasure for Pleasure. And I would have your Sense of this Dream so perfect, and your Joy so entire, that if it hap∣pen you should awake with the Satisfaction from this Dream, you should find your Heart still pan∣ting with the soft Pleasure of the dear deceiving Transport, and you should be ready to cry out,—

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Ah! how sweet it is to dream, When Charming Iris is the Theme!
For such, I wish, my Damon, your sleeping and your waking Thoughts should render me to your Heart.

Three 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 un∣accountable 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 satisfied with this Conduct of mine, at its first approach you will be ready to cry out,—

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The Request.
Oh Iris! let my sleeping Hours be fraught With Joys, which you deny my waking Thought. Is't not enough you absent are? Is't not enough I sigh all Day, And languish out my Life in Care, To e'ery Passion made a Prey? I burn with Love and soft Desire; I rave with Jealousie and Fear: All Day, for Ease, my Soul I tire; In vain I search it e'ery-where: It dwells not with the Witty or the Fair.
It is not in the Camp or Court, In Bus'ness, Musick, or in Sport; The Plays, the Park, and Mall afford No more than the dull Basset-board. The Beauties in the Drawing-room, With all their Sweetness, all their Bloom, No more my faithful Eyes invite, Nor rob my Iris of a Sigh or Glance, Ʋnless soft Thoughts of her incite A Smile, or trivial Complaisance. Then since my Days so anxious prove, Ah, Cruel Tyrant! give A little Loose to Joys in Love, And let your Damon live. Let him in Dreams be happy made, And let his Sleep some Bliss provide: The nicest Maid may yield, in Night's dark shade, What she so long by Day-light had deny'd. There let me think you present are, And court my Pillow for my Fair.

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There let me find you kind, and that you give All that a Man of Honour dares receive. And may my Eyes Eternal Watches keep, Father than want that Pleasure, when I sleep.

Some such Complaint as this, I know you will make; but (Damon) if the little Quarrels of Lovers render the reconciling Moments so infi∣nitely 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 suf∣fer 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, some∣thing of the lightness of my Sex; that my Soul is employ'd in a thousand Vanities; that (proud and fond of Lovers) I make Advances for the Glory of a Slave, without any other Interest, or Design, than that of being ador'd. I will give you leave to think my Heart fickle, and that, far from resigning it to any one, I lend it only for a Day, or an Hour, and take it back at pleasure, that I am a very Coquet, even to Im∣pertinence.

All this I give you leave to think, and to of∣fend me; but 'tis in Sleep only that I permit it; for I would 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 imagine me thus idly vain; but you are to pass on to an hundred more capricious Humours; as

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that I exact of you a hundred unjust Things; that I pretend you should break off with all your Friends, and for the future, have none at all; that I will, myself, do those Things, which I violently condemn in you; and that I will have for others, as well as you, that tender Friend∣ship 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 tor∣ment yourself; and believe, that I am become unjust, ungrateful, and insensible: But were I so indeed, O Damon! Consider your awaking Heart, and tell me; Wou'd your Love stand the Proof of all these Faults in me? But know, that I would have you believe, I have none of these Weaknesses, though I am not wholly with∣out Faults, but those will be excusable to a Lo∣ver; and this Notion I have of a perfect one:

Whate'er fantastick Humours rule the Fair, She's still the Lover's Dotage and his Care.

Four 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 o∣ver the Heart, that compels your very Reason, and seduces all your good Nature. And in this Dream, you must believe that in sleeping which

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you cou'd not do me the Injustice to do when awake. And here you must explain all my Acti∣ons 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 Ri∣vals is with me, interrupting all you say, or hin∣dring all you wou'd say; that I have no atten∣tion to what you say aloud to me, but that I in∣cline 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 Sweet∣ness in my Eyes, and that Vanity in my Heart, that possesses the Humors of almost all the Fair; that is, to believe it greatly for my Glory to have abundance of Rivals for my Lovers. I know you love too well, not to be extreamly uneasie 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 confess'd, a Rival is a very troublesome Person: But, to af∣flict 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 ta∣ken away my Heart from you, to make a Pre∣sent of it to this more lucky Man. You shall suffer, while possess'd with this Dream, all that a cruel Jealousie can make a tender Soul suffer.

The Torment.
O Jealousie! thou Passion most ingrate! Tormenting as Despair, envious as Hate!

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Spightful as Witchcraft, which th' Invoker harms; Worse than the Wretch that suffers by its Charms. Thou subtil Poyson in the Fancy bred, Diffus'd through every Vein, the Heart and Head, And over all, like wild Contagion, spread. Thou, whose sole Property is to destroy, Thou Opposite to Good, Antipathy to Joy, Whose Attributes are cruel, Rage, and Fire, Reason debauch'd, false Sence, and mad Desire.

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

She that wou'd wreck a Lover's Heart To the Extent of Cruelty, Must his Tranquility subvert To tort'ring Jealousie.

I speak too sensibly of this Passion, not to have lov'd well enough, to have been touch'd with it: And you shall be this unhappy Lover (Damon) during this Dream, in which nothing shall pre∣sent itself 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.

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There they shall all together reign With mighty Force, with mighty Pain; In spight of Reason, in Contempt of Love: Sometimes by turns, sometimes united move.

Five 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 yourself, yet you believe, in this Dream, that I complain of Injuries you do my Fame, and that I am ex∣treamly angry with a Jealousie so prejudicial to my Honour. Upon this Belief you accuse 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 re∣solve to cease loving the vain Coquet, and will say to me as a certain Friend of yours said to his false Mistress:

The Inconstant.
Though, Sylvia, you are very fair, Yet disagreeable to me; And since you so inconstant are, Your Beauty's damn'd with Levity. Your Wit, your most offensive Arms, For want of Judgment, wants its Charms.

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To every Lover that is new, All new and charming you surprize; But when your fickle Mind they view, They shun the danger of your Eyes. Shou'd you a Miracle of Beauty show, Yet you're inconstant, and will still be so.

'Tis thus you will think of me: And, in fine, (Damon) during this Dream, we are in a per∣petual State of War.

Thus both resolve to break their Chain, And think to do't without much Pain, But, Oh! Alas! we strive in vain.
For Lovers of themselves can nothing do; There must be the Consent of Two: You give it me, and I must give it you.

And if we shall never be free, till we acquit one another, this Tye between you and I (Da∣mon) is likely to last as long as we live; there∣fore in vain you endeavour, but can never at∣tain your End; and in conclusion you will say, in thinking of me:

Oh! how at Ease my Heart wou'd live, Cou'd I renounce this Fugitive, This dear (but false) attracting Maid, That has her Vows and Faith betray'd! Reason wou'd have it so, but Love Dares not the dang'rous Tryal prove.

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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 a∣gain.

Then do not let your murm'ring Heart, Against my Int'rest, take your Part. The Feud was rais'd by Dreams, all false and vain, And the next Sleep shall reconcile again.

Six a Clock.

Accommodation in Dreams.

THough the angry Lovers force themselves, all they can, to chase away the trouble∣some Tenderness of the Heart, in the height of their Quarrels, Love sees all their Sufferings, pities and redresses 'em: And when we begin to cool, and a soft Repentance follows the Chagrin of the Love-Quarrel, 'tis then that Love takes the advantage of both Hearts, and renews the charming Friendship more forcibly than ever, puts a stop to all our Feuds, and ren∣ders 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

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most sensible of your past Pain, that you can wish; and that, all my Anger being vanish'd, 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 invio∣lable Peace.

After these Debates of Love, Lovers thousand Pleasures prove, Which they ever think to taste, Tho' oftentimes they do not last.

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 en∣dure 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 a∣void 'em as near as we can: And if we cannot, but that, in spight of Love and good Under∣standing, they should 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 Tem∣per. A few Quarrels there must be in Love; Love cannot support itself without 'em; and, besides the Joy of an Accommodation, Love be∣comes by it more strongly united, and more charming. Therefore let the Lover receive this as a certain Receipt against declining Love:

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Love reconcil'd.
He that wou'd have the Passion be Entire between the Am'rous Pair, Let not the little Feuds of Jealousie Be carried on to a Despair: That pauls the Pleasure he would raise; The Fire that he wou'd blow, allays.
When Ʋnderstandings false arise, When misinterpreted your thought; If false Conjectures of your Smiles and Eyes Be up to Baneful Quarrel wrought; Let Love the kind Occasion take, And strait Accommodation make.
The sullen Lover, long unkind, Ill-natur'd, hard to reconcile, Loses the Heart he had inclin'd, Love cannot undergo long Toil; He's soft and sweet, not born to bear The rough Fatigues of painful War.

Seven a Clock.

Divers Dreams.

BEhold (Damon) the last Hour of your Sleep, and of my Watch. She leaves you at liberty now, and you may chuse your Dreams: Trust 'em to your Imaginations, give a Loose to

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Fancy, and let it rove at Will, provided, Da∣mon, 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 flatt'ring Cupid, that will favour your slum∣bring 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 be∣lieve 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 Divertions, 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 satisfied with those Plea∣sures, but see 'em so, as the 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 satisfied you know it too well, and have too great a Veneration for your Glori∣ous Master, to neglect any part of that for even Love itself: And I very well know how much you love to be eternally near his illustrious Per∣son; and that you scarce prefer your Mistress

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before him, in point of Love: In all things else, I give him leave to take place of Iris, in the no∣ble Heart of Damon.

I am satisfied you pass your Time well now at Windsor, for you adore that place, and 'tis not▪ indeed, without great Reason; for 'tis most cer∣tainly now render'd the most glorious Palace in the Christian World. And had our late Gracious Soveraign 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 Posteri∣ty) this Noble Structure alone, this Building (almost Divine) would 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 die, but remain, to tell suc∣ceeding Ages, that all Arts and Learning were not confin'd to ancient Rome and Greece, but that England too could boast its mightiest Share. Nor is the In-side of this Magnificent Structure, immortaliz'd with so many eternal I∣mages of the Illustrious Charles and Katherine, more to be admir'd than the wondrous Pro∣spects 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 Streams, the most delightful Object that ever Nature produc'd. Beyond all these, and far below, in an inviting Vale, the venerable College, an Old, but No∣ble Building, raises itself, in the midst of all the

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Beauties of Nature, high-grown Trees, fruitful Plains, purling Rivulets, and spacious Gardens, adorn'd with all Variety of Sweets that can de∣light 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 Pa∣lace erected by the illustrious Duke of Bucking∣ham: Who will leave this wondrous Piece of Architecture, to inform the future World of the Greatness and Delicacy of his Mind, it be∣ing, for its Situation, its Prospects, and its marvellous Contrivances, one of the finest Villa's of the World; at least, were it finish'd as be∣gun; and would sufficiently declare the mag∣nifick Soul of the Hero that caus'd it to be built, and contriv'd all its Fineness. And this makes up not the least part of the beautiful Pro∣spect 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 Valleys, Downs and Hills, and all that Nature could 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 Sa∣muel Morland, or Sir Robert Gorden, cou'd, by the Power of Engines, convey the Water so in∣to the Park and Castle, as to furnish it with de∣lightful

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Fountains, both useful and beautiful. These are only wanting, to render the Place all Perfection, without Exception.

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 could not forbear transgressing a little, in favour of its wondrous Beauty; and the rather, because I wou'd, in recounting it, give you to understand how ma∣ny 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 vene∣rable Monuments of everlasting Fame.

Neither need I (Damon) assign you your wait∣ing 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 e∣stablish your Fortune aud 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

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his Soveraign, and his Passion and his Respect for his Mistress. And this is my Notion of it.

Love and Ambition.
The Nobler Lover, who wou'd prove Ʋncommon in Address, Let him Ambition joyn with Love; With Glory, Tenderness: But let the Vertues so be mixt, That when to Love he goes, Ambition may not come betwixt, Nor Love his Power oppose. The vacant Hours from softer Sport Let him give up to Int'rest and the Court.
'Tis Honour shall his Bus'ness be, And Love his Noblest Play: Those two should never disagree, For both make either gay. Love without Honour were too mean For any gallant Heart; And Honour singly, but a Dream, Where Love must have no part. A Flame like this you cannot fear, Where Glory claims an equal Share.

Such a Passion (Damon) can never make you quit any part of your Duty to your Prince. And the Monarch you serve is so gallant a Master, that the Inclination you have to his Person obliges you to serve him, as much as your Duty; for Damon's Loyal Soul loves the Man, and adores the Monarch; for he is cer∣tainly

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all that compels both, by a charming force and Goodness from all Mankind.

The King.
Darling of Mars! Bellona's Care! The second Deity of War! Delight of Heaven, and Joy of Earth! Born for great and wondrous things! Destin'd at his Auspicious Birth T'out do the num'rous Race of long-past Kings.
Best Representative of Heaven, To whom its chiefest Attributes are given! Great, Pious, Stedfast, Just, and Brave! To Vengeance slow, but swift to save! Dispencing Mercy all abroad! Soft and Forgiving as a God!
Thou Saving Angel, who preserv'st the Land From the Just Rage of the Avenging Hand, Stopt the dire Plague, that o'er the Earth was hurl'd, And sheathing thy Almighty Sword, Calm'd the wild Fears of a distracted World, (As Heaven first made it) with a sacred Word!

But I will stop the low Flight of my humble Muse, who, when she is upon the Wing, on this Glorious Subject, knows no Bounds. And all the World has agreed to say so much of the Ver∣tues and Wonders of this great Monarch, that they have left me nothing new to say; though indeed he every day gives us new Themes of his growing Greatness, and we see nothing that

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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 myself 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, I am generous e∣nough to make it good: And since I am so wil∣ling to be just, you ought to esteem me, and to make it your chiefest Care to preserve me yours; for I believe I shall deserve it, and wish you shou'd believe so too. Remember me, write to me, and observe punctually all the Motions of my Watch: The more you regard it, the better you will like it; and, whatever you think of it at first sight, 'tis no ill Present. The Invention is soft and gallant; and Germany, so celebrated for rare Watches, can produce nothing to equal this.

Damon, my Watch is just, and new; And all a Lover ought to do, My Cupid faithfully will shew. And every Hour he renders there, Except L'heure du Bergere.
The End of the WATCH.
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