_Behold the glitt’ring Host from far,_
_That waits the Conduct of the God of War._
_Beneath these glorious Laurels, 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-parch’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 Heroe deaf to War’s Alarms?_
_Now let the conqu’ring Ensigns up be furl’d:_
_Learn to be gay, be soft, and curl’d;_
_And idle, lose the Empire of the World._
_In fond effeminate Delights go on;_
_Lose all the Glories you have won:_
_Bravely resolve to love, and be undone._
_’.is thus the martial Virgin pleads;_
_Thus she the am’rous God persuades_
_To fly from_ Venus, _and the flow’ry Meads._
You see here that Poets and Warriors are oftentimes in affliction, even
under the Shades of their protecting Laurels; and let the Nymphs and
Virgins sing what they please to their memory, under the Myrtles, and
on flowery Beds, they are much better Days than in the Campagne. Nor
do the Crowns of Glory surpass those of Love: The first is but an empty
Name, which is won, kept and lost with Hazard; but Love more nobly
employs a brave Soul, and all his Pleasures are solid and lasting; and
when one has a worthy Object of one’s Flame, Glory accompanies Love
too. But go to sleep, the Hour is come; and ‘tis now that your Soul
ought to be entertain’d in Dreams.
TWO o’.LOCK.
_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 are but Thoughts
disordered, in which Reason has no part; Chimera’s of the Imagination,
and no more. But tho’ my _Watch_ does not pretend to Counsel
unreasonably, yet you must allow it here, if not to pass the Bounds, at
least to advance 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, give you new Hopes
and Assurances; that you are not indifferent to me; and that I give you
a thousand Testimonies of my Tenderness, all innocent and obliging.
While you are saying all that Love can dictate, all that Wit and good
Manners can invent, and all that I wish to hear from _Damon_, believe
in this Dream, all flattering and dear, that after having shewed me the
Ardour of your Flame, 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 happen you should awake with the Satisfaction of this Dream, you
should find your Heart still panting with the soft Pleasure of the dear
deceiving Transport, and you should be ready to cry out,
_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 o’.LOCK.
_Capricious Suffering in Dreams._
It is but just to mix a little Chagrin with these Pleasures, a little
Bitter with your Sweet; you may be cloy’d with too long an Imagination
of my Favours: and I will have your Fancy in Dreams represent me to it,
as the most capricious Maid in the World. I know, here you will accuse
my _Watch_, and blame me with unnecessary Cruelty, as you will call it:
but Lovers have their little Ends, their little Advantages, to pursue
by Methods wholly unaccountable to all, but that Heart which contrives
’.m: And, as good a Lover as I believe you, you will not enter into my
Design at first sight; and tho’, on reasonable Thoughts, you will be
satisfied with this Conduct of mine, at its first Approach you will be
ready to cry out--
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 lanquish out my Life in Care,_
_To e’ery Passion made a Prey?_
_I burn with Love, and soft Desire;_
_I rave with Jealousy and Fear:_
_All Day, for Ease, my Soul I tire;_
_In vain I search it ev’ry where:_
_It dwells not with the Witty or the Fair._
_It is not in the Camp or Court,_
_In Business, Musick, or in Sport;_
_The Plays, the Park, and Mall afford_
_No more than the dull Basset-board._
_The Beauties in the Drawing-room,_
_With all their Sweetness, all their Bloom,_
_No more my faithful Eyes invite,_
_Nor rob my_ Iris _of a Sigh or Glance,_
_Unless soft Thoughts of her incite_
_A Smile, or trivial Complaisance._
_Then since my Days so anxious prove,_
_Ah, cruel Tyrant! give_
_A little Loose to Joys in Love,_
_And let your_ Damon _live._
_Let him in Dreams be happy made,_
_And let his Sleep some Bliss provide:_
_The nicest Maid may yield in Night’s dark shade,_
_What she so long by Day-light had deny’d._
_There let me think you present are,_
_And court my Pillow for my Fair._
_There let me find you kind, and that you give_
_All that a Man of Honour dares receive._
_And may my Eyes eternal Watches keep,_
_Rather than want that Pleasure when I sleep._
Some such Complaint as this I know you will make; but, _Damon_, if the
little Quarrels of Lovers render the reconciling Moments so infinitely
charming, you must needs allow, that these little Chagrin 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 would
have you suffer a little Pain for a coming Pleasure; nor, indeed is
it possible for you to escape the Dreams my _Cupid_ points you out.
You shall dream that I have a thousand _Foibles_, something of the
lightness of my Sex; that my Soul is employ’d in a thousand Vanities;
that (proud and fond of Lovers) I make advances for the Glory of a
Slave, without any other Interest or Design than that of being ador’d.
I will give you leave to think my Heart fickle, and that, far from
resigning it to any one, I lend it only for a Day, or an Hour, and take
it back at pleasure; that I am a very _Coquet_, even to Impertinence.
All this I give you leave to think, and to offend 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 a hundred more capricious Humours: as 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 Friendship that resembles Love,
or rather that Love which People call Friendship; and that I will not,
after all, have you dare complain on me.
In fine, be as ingenious as you please to torment your self; and
believe, that I am become unjust, ungrateful, and insensible: But were
I so indeed, O _Damon_! consider your awaking Heart, and tell me, would
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, tho’ I am not
wholly without Faults, but those will be excusable to a Lover; 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 o’.LOCK.
_Jealousy in Dreams_.
Do not think, _Damon_, to wake yet; for I design you shall yet suffer a
little more: Jealousy must now possess you, that Tyrant over the Heart,
that compels your very Reason, and seduces all your Good-Nature. And
in this Dream you must believe That in sleeping, which you could not
do me the injustice to do when awake. And here you must explain all my
Actions to the utmost disadvantage: Nay, I will wish, that the Force
of this Jealousy may be so extreme, that it may make you languish in
Grief, and be overcome with Anger.
You shall now imagine, that one of your Rivals is with me, interrupting
all you say, or hindering all you would say; that I have no Attention
to what you say aloud to me, but that I incline mine Ear to hearken
to all that he whispers to me. You shall repine, that he pursues me
every where, and is eternally at your heels if you approach me; that
I caress him with Sweetness in my Eyes, and that Vanity in my Heart,
that possesses the Humours of almost all the Fair; that is, to believe
it greatly for my Glory to have abundance of Rivals for my Lovers. I
know you love me too well not to be extreamely uneasy 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 afflict you to the utmost, I will have you
imagine that my Eyes approve of all his Thoughts; that they flatter him
with Hopes; and that I have taken away my Heart from you, to make a
Present of it to this more lucky Man. You shall suffer, while possess’d
with this Dream, all that a cruel Jealousy can make a tender Soul
suffer.
The Torment.
_O Jealousy! thou Passion most ingrate!_
_Tormenting as Despair, envious as Hate!_
_Spightful as Witchcraft, which th’ Invoker harms;_
_Worse than the Wretch that suffers by its Charms._
_Thou subtil Poison in the Fancy bred,_ }
_Diffus’d thro’ 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 Sense, and mad Desire._
In fine, it is a Passion that ruffles all the Senses, and disorders
the whole Frame of Nature. It makes one hear and see what was never
spoke, and what never was in view. ‘Tis the Bane of Health and Beauty,
an unmannerly Intruder; and an Evil of Life worse than Death. She is
a very cruel Tyrant in the Heart; she possesses and pierces it with
infinite Unquiets; and we may lay it down as a certain Maxim--
_She that wou’d rack a Lover’s Heart_
_To the extent of Cruelty,_
_Must his Tranquillity subvert_
_To the most tort’ring Jealousy._
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 present it self to your
tumultuous Thoughts, that shall not bring its Pain. You shall here pass
and repass a hundred Designs, that shall confound one another. In fine,
_Damon_, Anger, Hatred, and Revenge, shall surround your Heart.
_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 o’.LOCK.
_Quarrels in Dreams._
I perceive you are not able to suffer all this Injustice, nor can I
permit it any longer: and tho’ you commit no Crime yourself, yet you
believe in this Dream, that I complain of the Injuries you do my Fame;
and that I am extreamely angry with a Jealousy 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 resolve to cease loving the vain
_Coquet_, and will say to me, as a certain Friend of yours said to his
false Mistress:
The Inconstant.
_Tho’., Silvia, _you are very fair,_
_Yet disagreeable to me;_
_And since you so inconstant are,_
_Your Beauty’s damn’d with Levity._
_Your Wit, your most offensive Arms,_
_For want of Judgment, wants its Charms._
_To every Lover that is new,_
_All new and charming you surprize;_
_But when your fickle Mind they view,_
_They shun the danger of your Eyes._
_Should you a Miracle of Beauty show,_
_Yet you’re inconstant, and will still be so._
’.is thus you will think of me: And in fine, _Damon_, during this
Dream, we are in perpetual State of War.
_Thus both resolve to break their Chain,_
_And think to do’t without much Pain,_
_But Oh! alas! we strive in vain._
_For Lovers, of themselves, can nothing do;_
_There must be the Consent of two:_
_You give it me, and I must give it you._
And if we shall never be free, till we acquit one another, this Tye
between you and I, _Damon_, is likely to last as long as we live;
therefore in vain you endeavour, but can never attain your End; and in
conclusion you will say, in thinking of me:
_Oh! how at ease my Heart would live,_
_Could I renounce this Fugitive;_
_This dear, but false, attracting Maid,_
_That has her Vows and Faith betray’d!_
_Reason would have it so, but Love_
_Dares not the dang’rous Tryal prove._
Do not be angry then, for this afflicting Hour is drawing to an end,
and you ought not to despair of coming into my absolute Favour again,
_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 o’.LOCK.
_Accommodation in Dreams._
Tho’ the angry Lovers force themselves, all they can, to chase away the
troublesom 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 renders the peace-making Minutes the most
dear and tender part of our Life. How pleasing ‘tis to see your Rage
dissolve! How sweet, how soft is every Word that pleads for pardon at
my Feet! ‘Tis there that you tell me, your very Sufferings are over
paid, when I but assure you from my Eyes, that I will forget your
Crime: And your Imagination shall here present me the most sensible of
your past Pain, that you can wish; and that all my Anger being vanisht,
I give you a thousand Marks of my Faith and Gratitude; and lastly, to
crown all, that we again make new Vows to one another of inviolable
Peace:
_After these Debates of Love,_
_Lovers thousand Pleasures prove,_
_Which they ever think to taste,_
_Tho’ oftentimes they do not last._
Enjoy then all the Pleasures that a Heart that is very amorous, and
very tender, can enjoy. Think no more on those Inquietudes that you
have suffer’d; bless _Love_ for his Favours, and thank me for my
Graces: and resolve to endure any thing, rather than enter upon any new
Quarrels. And however dear the reconciling Moments are, there proceeds
a great deal of Evil from these little frequent Quarrels; and I think
the best Counsel we can follow, is to avoid ‘em as near as we can:
And if we cannot, but that, in spite of Love and good Understanding,
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 Temper. A few Quarrels there must be
in Love: Love cannot support it self without ‘em: and, besides the Joy
of an Accommodation, Love becomes by it more strongly united, and more
charming. Therefore let the Lover receive this as a certain Receipt
against declining Love:
Love reconcil’d.
_He that would have the Passion be_
_Entire between the am’rous Pair,_
_Let not the little Feuds of Jealousy_
_Be carry’d on to a Despair:_
_That palls the Pleasure he would raise;_
_The Fire that he would blow, allays._
_When Understandings false arise,_
_When misinterpreted your Thought,_
_If false Conjectures of your Smiles and Eyes_
_Be up to baneful Quarrels wrought;_
_Let Love the kind Occasion take,_
_And straight Accommodations 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 o’.LOCK.
_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 Fancy, and let it rove at will,
provided, _Damon_, it be always guided by a respectful _Love_. For
thus far I pretend to give bounds to your Imagination, and will not
have it pass beyond ‘em: Take heed, in sleeping, you give no ear to a
flatt’ring _Cupid_, that will favour your slumb’ring Minutes with Lyes
too pleasing and vain: You are discreet enough when you are awake; will
you not be so in Dreams?
_Damon_, awake; my _Watch’s_ Course is done: after this, you cannot be
ignorant of what you ought to do during my Absence. I did not believe
it necessary to caution you about Balls and Comedies; you know, a
Lover depriv’d of his Mistress, goes seldom there. But if you cannot
handsomely avoid these Diversions, I am not so unjust a Mistress, to
be angry with you for it; go, if Civility, or other Duties oblige you:
I will only forbid you, in consideration of me, not to be too much
satisfy’d with those Pleasures; but see ‘em so, as the World may have
reason to say, you do not seek them, you do not make a Business or
Pleasure of them; and that ‘tis Complaisance, and not Inclination, that
carries you thither. Seem rather negligent than concern’d at any thing
there; and let every part of you say, Iris _is not here_--
I say nothing to you neither of your Duty elsewhere; I am satisfy’d you
know it too well; and have too great a Veneration for your glorious
Master, to neglect any part of that for even Love it self. And I very
well know how much you love to be eternally near his illustrious
Person; and that you scarce prefer your Mistress before him, in point
of Love: In all things else, I give him leave to take place of _Iris_
in the noble Heart of _Damon_.
I am satisfy’d you pass your time well now at _Windsor_, for you adore
that Place; and ‘tis not, indeed, without great reason: for ‘tis most
certainly now render’d the most glorious Palace in the Christian World.
And had our late Gracious Sovereign, of blessed Memory, had no other
Miracles and Wonders of his Life and Reign to have immortaliz’d his
Fame (of which there shall remain a thousand to Posterity) this noble
Structure alone, this Building (almost Divine) would have eterniz’d
the great Name of Glorious _Charles_ II. till the World moulder again
to its old Confusion, its first _Chaos_. And the Paintings of the
famous _Varrio_, and noble Carvings of the unimitable _Gibbon_, shall
never die, but remain to tell succeeding Ages, that all Arts and
Learning were not confin’d to antient _Rome_ and _Greece_, but that
_England_ too could boast its mightiest Share. Nor is the Inside of
this magnificent Structure, immortaliz’d with so many eternal Images of
the illustrious _Charles_ and _Katharine_, more to be admired than the
wondrous Prospects without. The stupendous 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 noble Building, raises it
self, in the midst of all the Beauties of Nature, high-grown Trees,
fruitful Plains, purling Rivulets, and spacious Gardens, adorn’d with
all Variety of Sweets that can delight the Senses.
At farther distance yet, on an Ascent almost as high as that to the
Royal Structure, you may behold the famous and noble _Clifdon_ rise,
a Palace erected by the illustrious Duke of _Buckingham_, who will
leave this wondrous Piece of Architecture, to inform the future World
of the Greatness and Delicacy of his Mind; it being for its Situation,
its Prospects, and its marvellous Contrivances, one of the finest
_Villa’s_ of the World; at least, were it finish’d as begun; and would
sufficiently declare the magnifick 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 Prospect from the Palace Royal, while on
the other side lies spread a fruitful and delightful Park and Forest
well stor’d with Deer, and all that makes 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 human Art contrive an Addition to this
earthly Paradise, unless those great Inventors of the Age, Sir _Samuel
Morland_, or Sir _Robert Gorden_, cou’d by the power of Engines, convey
the Water so into the Park and Castle, as to furnish it with delightful
Fountains, both useful and beautiful. These are only wanting, to render
the Place all Perfection, and 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 would, in recounting it,
give you to understand how many fine Objects there are, besides the
Ladies that adorn it, to employ your vacant Moments in; and I hope you
will, without my Instructions, pass a great part of your idle time in
surveying these Prospects, and give that Admiration you should pay to
living Beauty, to those more venerable Monuments of everlasting Fame.
Neither need I, _Damon_, assign you your waiting Times: your Honour,
Duty, Love, and Obedience, will instruct you when to be near the Person
of the King; and, I believe, you will omit no part of that Devoir. You
ought to establish your Fortune and your Glory: for I am not of the
mind of those critical Lovers, who believe it a very hard matter to
reconcile Love and Interest, to adore a Mistress, and serve a Master at
the same Time. And I have heard those, who on this Subject, say, _Let
a Man be never so careful in these double Duties, ‘tis ten to one but
he loses his Fortune or his Mistress_. These are Errors that I condemn:
And I know that Love and Ambition are not incompatible, but that a
brave Man may preserve all his Duties to his Sovereign, and his Passion
and his Respect for his Mistress. And this is my Notion of it.
Love and Ambition.
_The nobler Lover, who would prove_
_Uncommon in Address,_
_Let him Ambition join with Love;_
_With Glory, Tenderness:_
_But let the Virtues 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._
_’.is 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 certainly 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!_
_Dispensing Mercy all abroad!_
_Soft and forgiving as a God!_