Chapter III: Introduction (3)

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!_

_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 Virtues and Wonders of this great Monarch, that they have left me nothing new to say; tho’ indeed he every Day gives us new Themes of his growing Greatness, and we see nothing that equals him in our Age. Oh! how happy are we to obey his Laws; for he is the greatest of Kings, and the best of Men!

You will be very unjust, _Damon_, if you do not confess I have acquitted my self like a Maid of Honour, of all the Obligations I owe you, upon the account of the _Discretion_ I lost to you. If it be not valuable enough, I am generous enough to make it good: And since I am so willing to be just, you ought to esteem me, and to make it your chiefest Care to preserve me yours; for I believe I shall deserve it, and wish you should 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 ev’ry Hour he renders there,_
_Except_ l’heure du Bergere.

The CASE for the WATCH.

DAMON _to_ IRIS.

Expect not, Oh charming _Iris_! that I should chuse Words to thank you in; (Words, that least Part of Love, and least the Business of the Lover) but will say all, and every thing that a tender Heart can dictate, to make an Acknowledgment for so dear and precious a Present as this of your charming _Watch_: while all I can say will but too dully express my Sense of Gratitude, my Joy, and the Pleasure I receive in the mighty Favour. I confess the Present too rich, too gay, and too magnificent for my Expectation: and tho’ my Love and Faith deserve it, yet my humbler Hope never durst carry me to a Wish of so great a Bliss, so great an Acknowledgment from the Maid I adore. The Materials are glorious, the Work delicate, and the Movement just, and even gives Rules to my Heart, who shall observe very exactly all that the _Cupid_ remarks to me; even to the Minutes, which I will point with Sighs, tho’ I am obliged to ‘em there but every half Hour.

You tell me, fair _Iris_, that I ought to preserve it tenderly, and yet you have sent it me without a Case. But that I may obey you justly, and keep it dear to me, as long as I live, I will give it a Case of my Fashion: It shall be delicate, and suitable to the fine Present; of such Materials too. But because I would have it perfect, I will consult your admirable Wit and Invention in an Affair of so curious a Consequence.

_The_ FIGURE _of the_ CASE.

I design to give it the Figure of the Heart. Does not your _Watch_, _Iris_, rule the Heart? It was your Heart that contrived it, and ‘twas your Heart you consulted in all the Management of it; and ‘twas your Heart that brought it to so fine a Conclusion. The Heart never acts without Reason, and all the Heart projects, it performs with Pleasure.

Your _Watch_, my lovely Maid, has explain’d to me a World of rich Secrets of Love: And where should Thoughts so sacred be stored, but in the Heart, where all the Secrets of the Soul are treasur’d up, and of which only _Love_ alone can take a view? ‘Tis thence he takes his Sighs and Tears, and all his little Flatteries and Arts to please; all his fine Thoughts, and all his mighty Raptures; nothing is so proper as the Heart to preserve it, nothing so worthy as the Heart to contain it: and it concerns my Interest too much, not to be infinitely careful of so dear a Treasure: And believe me, charming _Iris_, I will never part with it.

The Votary.

_Fair Goddess of my just Desire,_
_Inspirer of my softest Fire!_
_Since you, from out the num’rous Throng_
_That to your Altars do belong,_
_To me the Sacred Myst’ry have reveal’d,_
_From all my Rival-Worshippers conceal’d;_
_And toucht my Soul with heav’nly Fire,_
_Refin’d it from its grosser Sense,_
_And wrought it to a higher Excellence;_
_It can no more return to Earth,_
_Like things that thence receive their Birth;_
_But still aspiring, upward move,_
_And teach the World new Flights of Love;_
_New Arts of Secrecy shall learn,_
_And render Youth discreet in Love’s Concern._

_In his soft Heart, to hide the charming things_
_A Mistress whispers to his Ear;_
_And e’ery tender Sigh she brings,_
_Mix with his Soul, and hide it there._
_To bear himself so well in Company,_
_That if his Mistress present be,_
_It may be thought by all the Fair,_
_Each in his Heart does claim a Share,_
_And all are more belov’d than she._
_But when with the dear Maid apart,_
_Then at her Feet the Lover lies;_
_Opens his Soul, shews all his Heart,_
_While Joy is dancing in his Eyes._
_Then all that Honour may, or take, or give,_
_They both distribute, both receive._
_A Looker-on wou’d spoil a Lover’s Joy;_
_For Love’s a Game where only two can play._
_And ‘tis the hardest of Love’s Mysteries,_
_To feign Love where it is not, hide it where it is._

After having told you, my lovely _Iris_, that I design to put your _Watch_ into a Heart, I ought to shew you the Ornaments of the Case. I do intend to have ‘em crown’d Cyphers: I do not mean those Crowns of Vanity, which are put indifferently on all sorts of Cyphers; no, I must have such as may distinguish mine from the rest, and may be true Emblems of what I would represent. My four Cyphers therefore shall be crown’d with these four Wreaths, of Olive, Laurel, Myrtle, and Roses: and the Letters that begin the Names of _Iris_ and _Damon_ shall compose the Cyphers; tho’ I must intermix some other Letters that bear another Sense, and have another Signification.

_The First_ CYPHER.

The first Cypher is compos’d of an _I_ and a _D_, which are join’d by an _L_ and an _E_; which signifies _Love Extreme_. And ‘tis but just, Oh adorable _Iris_! that Love should be mixt with our Cyphers, and that Love alone should be the Union of ‘em.

_Love ought alone the Mystick Knot to tie;_
_Love, that great Master of all Arts:_
_And this dear_ Cypher _is to let you see,_
_Love unites Names as well as Hearts._

Without this charming Union, our Souls could not communicate those invisible Sweetnesses, which compleat the Felicity of Lovers, and which the most tender and passionate Expressions are too feeble to make us comprehend. But, my adorable _Iris_, I am contented with the vast Pleasure I feel in loving well, without the care of expressing it well; if you will imagine my Pleasure, without expressing it: For I confess, ‘twould be no Joy to me to adore you, if you did not perfectly believe I did adore you. Nay, tho’ you lov’d me, if you had no Faith in me, I should languish, and love in as much Pain, as if you scorn’d; and at the same time believ’d I dy’d for you: For surely, _Iris_, ‘tis a greater Pleasure to please than to be pleas’d; and the glorious Power of Giving is infinitely a greater Satisfaction, than that of Receiving: there is so Great and God-like a Quality in it. I would have your Belief therefore equal to my Passion, extreme; as indeed all Love should be, or it cannot bear that Divine Name: it can pass but for an indifferent Affection. And these Cyphers ought to make the World find all the noble Force of delicate Passion: for, Oh my _Iris_! what would Love signify, if we did not love fervently? Sisters and Brothers love; Friends and Relations have Affections: but where the Souls are join’d, which are fill’d with eternal soft Wishes, Oh! there is some Excess of Pleasure, which cannot be express’d!

Your Looks, your dear obliging Words, and your charming Letters, have sufficiently persuaded me of your Tenderness; and you might surely see the Excess of my Passion by my Cares, my Sighs, and entire Resignation to your Will. I never think of _Iris_, but my Heart feels double Flames, and pants and heaves with double Sighs; and whose Force makes its Ardours known, by a thousand Transports: And they are very much to blame, to give the Name of Love to feeble easy Passions. Such transitory tranquil Inclinations are at best but Well-wishers to Love; and a Heart that has such Heats as those, ought not to put it self into the Rank of those nobler Victims that are offer’d at the Shrine of Love. But our Souls, _Iris_, burn with a more glorious Flame, that lights and conducts us beyond a Possibility of losing one another. ’.is this that flatters all my Hopes; ‘tis this alone makes me believe my self worthy of _Iris_: And let her judge of its Violence, by the Greatness of its Splendour.

Does not a Passion of this nature, so true, so ardent, deserve to be crown’d? And will you wonder to see, over this Cypher, a Wreath of Myrtles, those Boughs so sacred to the Queen of Love, and so worshipp’d by Lovers? ‘Tis with these soft Wreaths, that those are crown’d, who understand how to love well and faithfully.

_The Smiles, the Graces, and the Sports,_
_That in the Secret Groves maintain their Courts,_
_Are with these Myrtles crown’d:_
_Thither the Nymphs their Garlands bring;_
_Their Beauties and their Praises sing,_
_While Echoes do the Songs resound._

Love, _tho’ a God, with Myrtle Wreaths_
_Does his soft Temples bind;_
_More valu’d are those consecrated Leaves,_
_Than the bright Wealth in Eastern Rocks confin’d:_
_And Crowns of Glory less Ambition move,_
_Than those more sacred Diadems of Love._

_The Second_ CYPHER,

Is crown’d with Olives; and I add to the two Letters of our Names an _R_ and an _L_, for _Reciprocal Love_. Every time that I have given you, O lovely _Iris_, Testimonies of my Passion, I have been so blest, as to receive some from your Bounty; and you have been pleased to flatter me with a Belief, that I was not indifferent to you. I dare therefore say, that being honour’d with the Glory of your Tenderness and Care, I ought, as a Trophy of my illustrious Conquest, to adorn the _Watch_ with a Cypher that is so advantageous to me. Ought I not to esteem my self the most fortunate and happy of Mankind, to have exchanged my Heart with so charming and admirable a Person as _Iris_? Ah! how sweet, how precious is the Change; and how vast a Glory arrives to me from it! Oh! you must not wonder if my Soul abandon it self to a thousand Extasies! In the Merchandize of Hearts, Oh, how dear it is to receive as much as one gives; and barter Heart for Heart! Oh! I would not receive mine again, for all the Crowns the Universe contains! Nor ought you, my Adorable, make any Vows or Wishes, ever to retrieve yours; or shew the least Repentance for the Blessing you have given me. The Exchange we made, was confirm’d by a noble Faith; and you ought to believe, you have bestow’d it well, since you are paid for it a Heart that is so conformable to yours, so true, so just, and so full of Adoration: And nothing can be the just Recompence of Love, but Love: and to enjoy the true Felicity of it, our Hearts ought to keep an equal Motion; and, like the Scales of Justice, always hang even.

’.is the Property of Reciprocal Love, to make the Heart feel the Delicacy of Love, and to give the Lover all the Ease and Softness he can reasonably hope. Such a Love renders all things advantageous and prosperous: Such a Love triumphs over all other Pleasures. And I put a Crown of Olives over the Cypher of _Reciprocal Love_, to make known, that two Hearts, where Love is justly equal, enjoy a Peace that nothing can disturb.

_Olives are never fading seen;_
_But always flourishing, and green._
_The Emblem ‘tis of Love and Peace;_ }
_For Love that’s true, will never cease:_ }
_And Peace does Pleasure still increase._ }
_Joy to the World, the Peace of Kings imparts;_
_And Peace in Love distributes it to Hearts._

_The Third_ CYPHER.

The _C_ and the _L_, which are join’d to the Letters of our Names in this Cypher crown’d with Laurel, explains a _Constant Love_. It will not, my fair _Iris_, suffice, that my Love is extreme, my Passion violent, and my Wishes fervent, or that our Loves are reciprocal; but it ought also to be constant: for in Love, the Imagination is oftner carried to those things that may arrive, and which we wish for, than to things that Time has robbed us of. And in those agreeable Thoughts of Joys to come, the Heart takes more delight to wander, than in all those that are past; tho’ the Remembrance of ‘em be very dear, and very charming. We should be both unjust, if we were not persuaded we are possest with a Virtue, the Use of which is so admirable as that of Constancy. Our Loves are not of that sort that can finish, or have an end; but such a Passion, so perfect, and so constant, that it will be a Precedent for future Ages, to love perfectly; and when they would express an extreme Passion, they will say, _They lov’d, as_ Damon _did the charming_ Iris. And he that knows the Glory of constant Love, will despise those fading Passions, those little Amusements, that serve for a Day. What Pleasure or Dependance can one have in a Love of that sort? What Concern? What Raptures can such an Amour produce in a Soul? And what Satisfaction can one promise one’s self in playing with a false Gamester; who tho’ you are aware of him, in spite of all your Precaution, puts the false Dice upon you, and wins all?

_Those Eyes that can no better Conquest make,_
_Let ‘em ne’er look abroad:_
_Such, but the empty Name of Lovers take,_
_And so profane the God._

_Better they never should pretend,_
_Than, ere begun, to make an end._

_Of that fond Flame what shall we say,_
_That’s born and languisht in a Day?_
_Such short-liv’d Blessings cannot bring_
_The Pleasure of an Envying._
_Who is’t will celebrate that Flame,_
_That’s damn’d to such a scanty Fame?_
_While constant Love the Nymphs and Swains_ }
_Still sacred make, in lasting Strains_ }
_And chearful Lays throughout the Plains._ }

_A constant Love knows no Decay:_ }
_But still advancing ev’ry Day,_ }
_Will last as long as Life can stay,_ }
_With ev’ry Look and Smile improves,_ }
_With the same Ardour always moves,_ }
_With such as_ Damon _charming_ Iris _loves!_ }

Constant Love finds it self impossible to be shaken; it resists the Attacks of Envy, and a thousand Accidents that endeavour to change it: Nothing can disoblige it but a known Falseness, or Contempt: Nothing can remove it; tho’ for a short moment it may lie sullen and resenting, it recovers, and returns with greater Force and Joy. I therefore, with very good reason, crown this _Cypher_ of _Constant Love_ with a Wreath of _Laurel_; since such Love always triumphs over Time and Fortune, tho’ it be not her Property to besiege: for she cannot overcome, but in defending her self; but the Victories she gains are never the less glorious.

_For far less Conquest we have known_
_The Victor wear the Laurel Crown._
_The Triumph with more Pride let him receive;_
_While those of Love, at least, more Pleasures give._

_The Fourth_ CYPHER.

Perhaps, my lovely Maid, you will not find out what I mean by the _S_ and the _L_, in this last Cypher, that is crown’d with Roses. I will therefore tell you, I mean _Secret Love_. There are very few People who know the Nature of that Pleasure, which so divine a Love creates: And let me say what I will of it, they must feel it themselves, who would rightly understand it, and all its ravishing Sweets. But this there is a great deal of Reason to believe, that the Secrecy in Love doubles the Pleasures of it. And I am so absolutely persuaded of this, that I believe all those Favours that are not kept secret, are dull and pall’d, very insipid and tasteless Pleasures: And let the Favours be never so innocent that a Lover receives from a Mistress, she ought to value ‘em, set a price upon ‘em, and make the Lover pay dear; while he receives ‘em with Difficulty, and sometimes with Hazard. A Lover that is not secret, but suffers every one to count his Sighs, has at most but a feeble Passion, such as produces sudden and transitory Desires, which die as soon as born: A true Love has not this Character; for whensoever ‘tis made publick, it ceases to be a Pleasure, and is only the Result of Vanity. Not that I expect our Loves should always remain a Secret: No, I should never, at that rate, arrive to a Blessing, which, above all the Glories of the Earth, I aspire to; but even then there are a thousand Joys, a thousand Pleasures that I shall be as careful to conceal from the foolish World, as if the whole Preservation of that Pleasure depended on my Silence; as indeed it does in a great measure.

To this Cypher I put a Crown of Roses, which are not Flowers of a very lasting Date. And ‘tis to let you see, that ‘tis impossible Love can be long hid. We see every Day, with what fine Dissimulation and Pains, People conceal a thousand Hates and Malices, Disgusts, Disobligations, and Resentments, without being able to conceal the least part of their Love: but Reputation has an Odour as well as Roses; and a Lover ought to esteem that as the dearest and tenderest thing: not only that of his own, which is, indeed, the least part; but that of his Mistress, more valuable to him than Life. He ought to endeavour to give People no occasion to make false Judgments of his Actions, or to give their Censures; which most certainly are never in the Favour of the Fair Person: for likely, those false Censurers are of the busy Female Sex, the _Coquets_ of that number; whose little Spites and Railleries, join’d to that fancy’d Wit they boast of, sets ‘em at odds with all the Beautiful and Innocent. And how very little of that kind serves to give the World a Faith, when a thousand Virtues, told of the same Persons, by more credible Witnesses and Judges, shall pass unregarded! so willing and inclin’d is all the World to credit the Ill, and condemn the Good! And yet, Oh! what pity ‘tis we are compell’d to live in Pain, to oblige this foolish scandalous World! And tho’ we know each other’s Virtue and Honour, we are oblig’d to observe that Caution (to humour the talking Town) which takes away so great a part of the Pleasure of Life! ‘Tis therefore that among those Roses, you will find some Thorns; by which you may imagine, that in Love, Precaution is necessary to its Secrecy: And we must restrain our selves, upon a thousand occasions, with so much Care, that, Oh _Iris_! ‘tis impossible to be discreet, without Pain; but ‘tis a Pain that creates a thousand Pleasures.

_Where should a Lover hide his Joys,_
_Free from Malice, free from Noise;_
_Where no Envy can intrude;_
_Where no busy Rival’s Spy,_
_Made, by Disappointment, rude,_
_May inform his Jealousy?_
_The Heart will the best Refuge prove;_
_Which Nature meant the Cabinet of Love._
_What would a Lover not endure,_
_His Mistress’ Fame and Honour to secure?_
Iris, _the Care we take to be discreet,_
_Is the dear Toil that makes the Pleasure sweet:_
_The Thorn that does the Wealth inclose,_
_That with less saucy Freedom we may touch the Rose._

_The_ CLASP _of the_ WATCH.

Ah, charming _Iris_! Ah, my lovely Maid! ‘tis now, in a more peculiar manner, that I require your Aid in the finishing of my Design, and compleating the whole Piece to the utmost Perfection; and without your Aid it cannot be perform’d. It is about the Clasp of the _Watch_; a Material, in all appearance, the most trivial of any part of it. But that it may be safe for ever, I design it the Image, or Figure of two Hands; that fair one of the adorable _Iris_, join’d to mine; with this Motto, _Inviolable Faith_: For in this _Case_, this Heart ought to be shut up by this eternal Clasp. Oh! there is nothing so necessary as this! Nothing can secure Love, but Faith.

That Virtue ought to be a Guard to all the Heart thinks, and all the Mouth utters: Nor can _Love_ say he triumphs without it. And when that remains not in the Heart, all the rest deserves no Regard. Oh! I have not lov’d so ill to leave one Doubt upon your Soul. Why then, will you want that Faith, Oh unkind Charmer, that my Passion and my Services so justly merit?

_When two Hearts entirely love,_
_And in one Sphere of Honour move,_
_Each maintains the other’s Fire,_
_With a Faith that is entire._
_For, what heedless Youth bestows,_
_On a faithless Maid, his Vows?_
_Faith without Love, bears Virtue’s Price;_
_But Love without her Mixture, is a Vice._
_Love, like Religion, still should be,_
_In the Foundation, firm and true;_
_In Points of Faith should still agree,_
_Tho’ Innovations vain and new,_
_Love’s little Quarrels, may arise;_
_In Fundamentals still they’re just and wise._

_Then, charming Maid, be sure of this;_
_Allow me Faith, as well as Love:_
_Since that alone affords no Bliss,_
_Unless your Faith your Love improve._
_Either resolve to let me die_
_By fairer Play, your Cruelty;_
_Than not your Love with Faith impart,_
_And with your Vows to give your Heart._
_In mad Despair I’d rather fall,_
_Than lose my glorious Hopes of conquering all._

So certain it is, that Love without Faith, is of no value.

In fine, my adorable _Iris_, this Case shall be, as near as I can, like those delicate ones of _Filligrin_ Work, which do not hinder the Sight from taking a View of all within: You may therefore see, thro’ this Heart, all your _Watch_. Nor is my Desire of preserving this inestimable Piece more, than to make it the whole Rule of my Life and Actions. And my chiefest Design in these Cyphers, is to comprehend in them the principal Virtues that are most necessary to Love. Do not we know that Reciprocal Love is Justice? Constant Love, Fortitude? Secret Love, Prudence? Tho’ ‘tis true that extreme Love, that is, Excess of Love, in one sense, appears not to be Temperance; yet you must know, my _Iris_, that in Matters of Love, Excess is a Virtue, and that all other Degrees of Love are worthy Scorn alone. ‘Tis this alone that can make good the glorious Title: ‘Tis this alone that can bear the Name of Love; and this alone that renders the Lovers truly happy, in spight of all the Storms of Fate, and Shocks of Fortune. This is an Antidote against all other Griefs: This bears up the Soul in all Calamity; and is the very Heaven of Life, the last Refuge of all worldly Pain and Care, and may well bear the Title of _Divine_.

The Art of Loving well.

_That Love may all Perfection be,_
_Sweet, charming to the last degree,_
_The Heart, where the bright Flame does dwell,_
_In Faith and Softness should excel:_
_Excess of Love should fill each Vein,_
_And all its sacred Rites maintain._

_The tend’rest Thoughts Heav’n can inspire,_
_Should be the Fuel to its Fire:_
_And that, like Incense, burn as pure;_
_Or that in Urns should still endure,_
_No fond Desire should fill the Soul,_
_But such as Honour may controul._

_Jealousy I will allow:_
_Not the amorous Winds that blow,_
_Should wanton in my_ Iris’ _Hair,_
_Or ravish Kisses from my Fair._
_Not the Flowers that grow beneath,_
_Should borrow Sweetness of her Breath._

_If her Bird she do caress,_
_How I grudge its Happiness,_
_When upon her snowy Hand_
_The Wanton does triumphing stand!_
_Or upon her Breast she skips,_
_And lays her Beak to_ Iris’ _Lips!_
_Fainting at my ravished Joy,_
_I could the Innocent destroy._
_If I can no Bliss afford_
_To a little harmless Bird,_
_Tell me, Oh thou dear-lov’d Maid!_
_What Reason could my Rage persuade,_
_If a Rival should invade?_

_If thy charming Eyes should dart_
_Looks that sally from the Heart;_
_If you sent a Smile, or Glance,_
_To another tho’ by Chance;_
_Still thou giv’st what’s not thy own,_
_They belong to me alone._

_All Submission I would pay:_
_Man was born the Fair t’ obey._
_Your very Look I’d understand,_
_And thence receive your least Command:_
_Never your Justice will dispute;_
_But like a Lover execute._

_I would no Usurper be,_
_But in claiming sacred Thee._
_I would have all, and every part;_
_No Thought would hide within thy Heart._
_Mine a Cabinet was made,_
_Where_ Iris’ _Secrets should be laid._

_In the rest, without controul,_
_She should triumph o’er the Soul!_
_Prostrate at her Feet I’d lie,_
_Despising Power and Liberty;_
_Glorying more by Love to fall,_
_Than rule the universal Ball._

_Hear me, O you saucy Youth!_
_And from my Maxims learn this Truth:_
_Would you great and powerful prove?_
_Be an humble Slave to Love._
_’.is nobler far a Joy to give,_
_Than any Blessing to receive._

The _LADY’S_ LOOKING-GLASS,

to Dress her self by:

or, The Art of Charming.

_Sent from_ DAMON _to_ IRIS.

How long, Oh charming _Iris_! shall I speak in vain of your adorable Beauty? You have been just, and believe I love you with a Passion perfectly tender and extreme, and yet you will not allow your Charms to be infinite. You must either accuse my Flames to be unreasonable, and that my Eyes and Heart are false Judges of Wit and Beauty; or allow that you are the most perfect of your Sex. But instead of that, you always accuse me of Flattery, when I speak of your infinite Merit; and when I refer you to your Glass, you tell me, that flatters as well as _Damon_: tho’ one would imagine, that should be a good Witness for the Truth of what I say, and undeceive you of the Opinion of my Injustice. Look--and confirm your self that nothing can equal your Perfections. All the World says it, and you must doubt it no longer. Oh _Iris_! will you dispute against the whole World?