_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._
_Be like your self: All witty, gay!_
_And o’er the Bottle bless the Board;_
_The list’ning Round will, all the Day,_
_Be charm’d, and pleas’d with every Word._
_Tho’. Venus’ _Son inspire your Wit,_
_’.is the_ Silenian _God best utters it._
_Here talk of every 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 enfranchised 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 o’.LOCK.
_Visits to Friends._
Damon, my _Watch_ is juster than you imagine; it would not have you
live retired and solitary, but permits you to go and make Visits. I am
not one of those that believe Love and Friendship cannot find a place
in one and the same Heart: And that Man 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 Proverb that says, _He cannot be very fervent in Love, who is not
a little cold in Friendship._ You are not ignorant, that when _Love_
establishes himself in a Heart, he reigns a Tyrant there, and will not
suffer even Friendship, 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’reign Pow’r 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 the other. I have seen a Man flatter himself
with an Opinion, that he had but an Esteem for a Woman, when by some
turn of Fortune in her Life, as marrying, or receiving the Addresses of
Men, he has found by Spite and Jealousies within, that that was Love,
which he before took for Complaisance or Friendship. Therefore have a
care, for such Amities are dangerous: Not but that a Lover may have
fair and generous Female Friends, whom he ought to visit; and perhaps I
should esteem you less, if I did not believe you were valued by such,
if I were perfectly assured they were Friends and not Lovers. But have
a care you hide not a Mistress under this Veil, or that you gain not a
Lover by this Pretence: For you may begin with Friendship, and end with
Love; and I should be equally afflicted should 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 would shuffle off, as asham’d to own; and are as fond and vain of
the Imagination of a Conquest, as any _Coquet_ of us all: tho’ at the
same time you despise the Victim, you think it adds a Trophy to your
Fame. And I have seen a Man dress, and trick, and adjust his Looks and
Mein, to make a Visit to a Woman he lov’d not, nor ever could love, as
for those he made to his Mistress; and only for the Vanity of making a
Conquest upon a Heart, even unworthy of the little Pains he has taken
about it. And what is this but buying Vanity at the Expense of Sense
and Ease; and with Fatigue to purchase the Name of a conceited Fop,
besides that of a dishonest Man? For he who takes pains to make himself
beloved, only to please his 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 Mein and Fashion, and cheats with every
Motion, and every Grace he puts on: He cozens when he sings or dances;
he dissembles when he sighs; and every thing he does, that wilfully
gains upon her, is Malice prepense, Baseness, and Art below a Man of
Sense or Virtue: and yet these Arts, these Cozenages, 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 easy he could conquer, and of how great
force his Charms were: And why should I be angry if all the Town loved
him, since he loved none but_ Iris? Oh foolish Pleasure! How little
Sense goes to the making of such a Happiness! And how little Love must
he have for one particular Person, who would wish to inspire it into
all the World, and yet himself pretend to be insensible! But this,
_Damon_, is rather what is but too much practiced by your Sex, than any
Guilt I charge on you: tho’ Vanity be an Ingredient that Nature very
seldom omits in the Composition of either Sex; and you may be allowed
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 Joy of being ador’d, tho’ I even hate my Worshipper. But if any
such Pleasure touch my Heart, I find it at the same time blushing in my
Cheeks with a guilty Shame, which soon checks the petty Triumphs; and
I have a Virtue at soberer Thoughts, that I find surmounts my Weakness
and Indiscretion; and I hope _Damon_ finds the same: For, should he
have any of those Attachments, I should have no pity for him.
The Example.
Damon, _if you’d have me true,_
_Be you my Precedent and Guide:_
_Example sooner we pursue,_
_Than the dull Dictates of our Pride._
_Precepts of Virtue are too weak an Aim:_
_’.is 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 that 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:_
_’.is Justice makes the Blessing dear,_
_Justice of Love without Design._
_And she that reigns not in a Heart alone,_
_Is never safe, or easy, on her Throne._
FOUR o’.LOCK.
_General Conversation._
In this Visiting-Hour, many People will happen to meet at one and the
same Time together, in a Place: And as you make not Visits to Friends,
to be silent, you ought to enter into Conversation with ‘em; but those
Conversations ought to be general, and of general things: for there
is no necessity of making your Friend the Confident of your Amours.
’.would 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 Sense, because they have not the same Sound and Air they had
originally, when they came from the soft Heart of her, who sigh’d ‘em
first to her lavish Lover? Perhaps they are told again with Mirth, or
Joy, unbecoming their Character and Business; and then they lose their
Graces: (for Love is the most solemn thing in nature, and the most
unsuiting with Gaiety.) Perhaps the soft Expressions suit not so well
the harsher Voice of the masculine Lover, whose Accents were not form’d
for so much Tenderness; at least, not of that sort: for Words that have
the same Meaning, are alter’d from their Sense by the least tone or
accent of the Voice; and those proper and fitted to my Soul, are not,
possibly, so to yours, though both have the same Efficacy upon us;
yours upon my Heart, as mine upon yours: and both will be misunderstood
by the unjudging World. Beside this, there is a Holiness in Love that’s
true, that ought not to be profan’d: And as the Poet truly says, at the
latter end of an Ode, of which I will recite the whole;
The Invitation.
Aminta, _fear not to confess_
_The charming Secret of thy Tenderness:_
_That which a Lover can’t conceal,_
_That which, to me, thou shouldst reveal;_
_And is but what thy lovely Eyes express._
_Come, whisper to my panting Heart,_
_That heaves and meets thy Voice half-way;_
_That guesses what thou wouldst impart,_
_And languishes for what thou hast to say._
_Confirm my trembling Doubt, and make me know,_
_Whence all these Blessings, and these Sighings flow._
_Why dost thou scruple to unfold_
_A Mystery that does my Life concern?_
_If thou ne’er speakst, it will be told;_
_For Lovers all things can discern._
_From overy Look, from every bashful Grace,_
_That still succeed each other in thy Face,_
_I shall the dear transporting Secret learn:_
_But ‘tis a Pleasure not to be exprest,_ }
_To hear it by the Voice confest,_ }
_When soft Sighs breath it on my panting Breast._ }
_All calm and silent is the Grove,_
_Whose shading Boughs resist the Day;_
_Here thou mayst 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 secret Treasure hoard:_
_There like some Mystery Divine,_
_The wond’rous 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 Pleasure, when it ceases to be a Secret, and one you
ought to keep sacred: For the World, which never makes a right Judgment
of things, will misinterpret Love, as they do Religion; every one
judging it, according to the Notion he has of it, or the Talent of
his Sense. _Love_ (as a great Duke said) _is like Apparitions; every
one talks of them, but few have seen ‘em_: Every body thinks himself
capable of understanding Love, and that he is a Master in the Art
of it; when there is nothing so nice, or difficult, to be rightly
comprehended; and indeed cannot be, but to a Soul very delicate. Nor
will he make himself known to the Vulgar: There must be an uncommon
Fineness in the Mind that contains him; the rest he only visits in as
many Disguises as there are Dispositions and Natures, where he makes
but a short stay, and is gone. He can fit himself to all Hearts, being
the greatest Flatterer in the World: And he possesses every one with a
Confidence, that they are in the number of his Elect; and they think
they know him perfectly, when nothing but the Spirits refined possess
him in his Excellency. From this difference of Love, in different
Souls, proceed 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 Croud, who call themselves
Lovers: And you will have your Passion censur’d by as many as you shall
discover it to, and as many several ways. I advise you therefore,
_Damon_, to make no Confidents of your Amours; and believe, that
Silence has, with me, the most powerful Charm.
’.is 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 would but advance where Love and good Fortune call; and that a too
constant Lover loses a great part of his Time, which might be manag’d
to more advantage, since Youth hath so short a Race to run. This, and a
thousand the like indecent Complaisances, give him a Vanity that suits
not with that Discretion, which has hitherto acquir’d him so good a
Reputation. I would not have you, _Damon_, act on these occasions, as
many of the easy Sparks have done before you, who receive such Weakness
and Flattery for Truth; and passing it off with a Smile, suffer ‘em to
advance in Folly, till they have gain’d a Credit with ‘em, and they
believe all they hear; telling ‘em they do so, by consenting Gestures,
Silence, or open Approbation. For my part, I should not condemn a Lover
that should answer such a sort of civil Brokers for Love, somewhat
briskly; and by giving ‘em to understand they are already engag’d, or
directing ‘em to Fools, that will possibly hearken to ‘em, and credit
such Stuff, shame ‘em out of a Folly so infamous and disingenuous. In
such a Case only I am willing you should own your Passion; not that you
need tell the Object which has charm’d you: And you may say, you are
already a Lover, without saying you are belov’d. For so long as you
appear to have a Heart unengag’d, you are expos’d to all the little
Arts and and Addresses of this sort of obliging Procurers of Love, and
give way to the hope they have of making you their Proselyte. For your
own Reputation then, and my Ease and Honour, shun such Conversations;
for they are neither creditable to you, nor pleasing to me: And believe
me, _Damon_, a true Lover has no Curiosity, but what concerns his
Mistress.
FIVE o’.LOCK.
_Dangerous Visits._
I foresee, or fear, that these busy impertinent Friends will oblige
you to visit some Ladies of their Acquaintance, or yours; my _Watch_
does not forbid you. Yet I must tell you, I apprehend Danger in such
Visits; and I fear, you will have need of all your Care and Precaution,
in these Encounters. That you may give me no cause to suspect you,
perhaps you will argue, that Civility obliges you to it. If I were
assur’d there would no other Design be carried on, I should 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 Civilities
are but so many Interests; and they do nothing without Design. And
in such Conversations 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 easy matter to be just in these Hours and
Conversations: The most certain way of being so, is to imagine I read
all your Thoughts, observe all your Looks, and hear all your Words.
The Caution.
_My_ Damon, _if your Heart be kind,_
_Do not too long with Beauty stay;_
_For there are certain Moments when the Mind_
_Is hurry’d by the Force of Charms away._
_In Fate a Minute critical there lies,_
_That waits on Love, and takes you by Surprize._
_A Lover pleas’d with Constancy,_
_Lives still as if the Maid he lov’d were by:_
_As if his Actions were in view,_
_As if his Steps she did pursue;_
_Or that his very Soul she knew._
_Take heed; for though I am not present there,_
_My Love, my Genius waits you every where._
I am very much pleas’d with the Remedy, you say, you make use of to
defend your self from the Attacks that Beauty gives your Heart; which
in one of your Billets, you said was this, or to this purpose:
The Charm for Constancy.
Iris, _to keep my Soul entire and true,_
_It thinks, each Moment of the Day, on you._
_And when a charming Face I see,_
_That does all other Eyes incline,_
_It has no Influence on me:_
_I think it ev’n deform’d to thine._
_My Eyes, my Soul, and Sense, regardless move_
_To all, but the dear Object of my Love._
But, _Damon_, I know all Lovers are naturally Flatterers, tho’ they
do not think so themselves; because every one makes a Sense of
Beauty according to his own Fancy. But perhaps you will say in your
own defence, That ‘tis not Flattery to say an unbeautiful Woman is
beautiful, if he that says so believes she is so. I should be content
to acquit you of the first, provided you allow me the last: And if I
appear charming in _Damon’s_ eyes, I am not fond of the Approbation of
any other. ‘Tis enough the World thinks me not altogether disagreeable,
to justify his Choice; but let your good Opinion give what Increase
it pleases to my Beauty, tho’ your Approbation give me a Pleasure, it
shall not a Vanity; and I am contented that _Damon_ should think me a
Beauty, without my believing I am one. ‘Tis not to draw new Assurances,
and new Vows from you, that I speak this; though Tales of Love are
the only ones we desire to hear often told, and which never tire the
Hearers if addrest to themselves. But ‘tis not to this end I now seem
to doubt what you say to my advantage: No, my Heart knows no Disguise,
nor can dissemble one Thought of it to _Damon_; ‘tis all sincere, and
honest as his Wish: ‘Tis therefore it tells you, it does not credit
every thing you say; tho’ 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 persuade me to believe, you must
give me leave either to believe you think me vain enough to credit you,
or pleas’d that your Sentiments and mine are differing in this point.
But I doubt I may rather reply in some Verses, a Friend of yours and
mine sent to a Person she thought had but indifferent Sentiments for
her; yet, who nevertheless flatter’d her, because he imagin’d she had
a very great Esteem for him. She is a Woman that, you know, naturally
hates Flattery: On the other side she was extremely dissatisfy’d,
and uneasy at his Opinion of his being more in her favour than she
desir’d he should believe. So that one Night having left her full of
Pride and Anger, she next Morning sent him these Verses, instead of a
_Billetdoux_.
The Defiance.
_By Heaven ‘tis false, I am not vain;_
_And rather would 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 the 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._
Philander, _fly that guilty Art:_
_Your charming facile Wit will find,_
_It cannot play on any Heart,_
_That is sincere and kind._
_For Wit with Softness to reside,_
_Good-nature is with Pity stor’d;_
_But Flattery’s the result of Pride,_
_And fawns to be ador’d._
_Nay, even when you smile and bow,_
_’.is to be render’d more compleat:_
_Your Wit, with ev’ry Grace you shew,_
_Is but a popular Cheat._
_Laugh on, and call me Coxcomb--do;_
_And, your Opinion to improve,_
_Think, all you think of me is true;_
_And to confirm it, swear I love._
_Then, while you wreck my Soul with Pain,_
_And of a cruel Conquest boast,_
_’.is you,_ Philander, _that are vain,_
_And witty at my cost._
Possibly, the angry _Aminta_, when she writ these Verses, was more
offended, that he believed himself belov’d, than that he flatter’d;
tho’ she wou’d seem to make that a great part of the Quarrel, and Cause
of her Resentment: For we are often in an humour to seem more modest in
that point, than naturally we are; being too apt to have a favourable
Opinion of our selves: And ‘tis rather the Effects of a Fear that we
are flatter’d, than our own ill Opinion of the Beauty flatter’d; and
that the Praiser thinks not so well of it, as we do our selves, or at
least we wish he should. Not but there are Grains of Allowance for the
Temper of him that speaks: One Man’s Humour is to talk much; and he may
be permitted to enlarge upon the Praise he gives the Person he pretends
to, without being accus’d of much Guilt. Another hates to be wordy;
from such an one, I have known one soft Expression, one tender Thing,
go as far as whole Days everlasting Protestations urged with Vows,
and mighty Eloquence. And both the one and the other, indeed, must be
allow’d in good manners, to stretch the Compliment beyond the bounds of
nice Truth: and we must not wonder to hear a Man call a Woman a Beauty,
when she is not ugly; or another a great Wit, if she have but common
Sense above the Vulgar; well bred, when well drest; and good-natur’d,
when civil. And as I should 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 Friendship. And for the rest (_Damon_)
be it true or false, this believe, you speak with such a Grace, that
I cannot chuse but credit you; and find an infinite Pleasure in that
Faith, because I love you: And if I cannot find the Cheat, I am
contented you should deceive me on, because you do it so agreeably.
SIX o’.LOCK.
_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 Intrigues are carry’d
on, and as many more design’d: ‘Tis there that every one is set out for
Conquest; and who aim at nothing less than Hearts. Guard yours well, my
_Damon_; and be not always admiring what you see. Do not, in passing
by, sigh them silent Praises. Suffer not so much as a guilty Wish to
approach your Thoughts, nor a heedful Glance to steal from your fine
Eyes: Those are Regards you ought only to have for her you love. But
oh! above all, have a care of what you say: You are not reproachable,
if you should remain silent all the time of your Walk; nor would those
that know you believe it the Effects of Dulness, but Melancholy. And if
any of your Friends ask you, Why you are so? I will give you leave to
sigh, and say--
The Mal-Content.
_Ah! wonder not if I appear_
_Regardless of the Pleasures here;_
_Or that my Thoughts are thus confin’d_
_To the just Limits of my Mind._
_My Eyes take no delight to rove_
_O’er all the smiling Charmers of the Grove,_
_Since she is absent whom they love._
_Ask 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 across:_
_Let Beauty unregarded go;_
_The Trees and Flowers unheeded grow._
_Let purling Streams neglected glide;_
_With all the Spring’s adorning Pride._
_’.is_ Iris _only Soul can give_
_To the dull Shades, and Plains, and make ‘em thrive;_
_Nature and my last Joys retrieve._
I do not, for all this, wholly confine your Eyes: you may look
indifferently on all, but with a particular regard on none. You may
praise all the Beauties in general, but no single one too much. I will
not exact from you neither an intire 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 would not have
you, by an unnecessary and uncomplaisant Sullenness, gain that of a
Person too negligent or morose. I would have you remiss in no one
_Punctilio_ of good Manners. I would 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 easy Heart;_
_And all the Flowers that blushing grow,_
_The Shades about, and Rivulets below,_
_Will take the Victor’s part._