Who, but a Lover, can expressThe Joys, the Pants, the Tenderness,That the soft amorous Soul invades,While the dearBilletdouxhe reads:Raptures Divine the Heart o'erflow,Which he that loves not cannot know.A thousand Tremblings, thousand Fears,The short-breath'd Sighs, the joyful Tears!The Transport, where the Love's confest;The Change, where Coldness is exprest;The diff'ring Flames the Lover burns,As those are shy, or kind, by turns.
Who, but a Lover, can expressThe Joys, the Pants, the Tenderness,That the soft amorous Soul invades,While the dearBilletdouxhe reads:Raptures Divine the Heart o'erflow,Which he that loves not cannot know.A thousand Tremblings, thousand Fears,The short-breath'd Sighs, the joyful Tears!The Transport, where the Love's confest;The Change, where Coldness is exprest;The diff'ring Flames the Lover burns,As those are shy, or kind, by turns.
However you find'em,Damon, construe 'em all to my advantage: Possibly, some of them have an Air of Coldness, something different from that Softness they are usually too amply fill'd with; but where you find they have, believe there, that the Sense of Honour, and my Sex's Modesty, guided my Hand a little against the Inclinations of my Heart; and that it was as a kind of an Atonement, I believed I ought to make, for something I feared I had said too kind, and too obliging before. But where-ever you find that Stop, that Check in my Career of Love, you will be sure to find something that follows it to favour you, and deny that unwilling Imposition upon my Heart; which, lest you should mistake, Love shews himself in Smiles again, and flatters more agreeably, disdaining the Tyranny of Honour and rigid Custom, that Imposition on our Sex; and will, in spite of me, let you see he reigns absolutely in my Soul.
The reading myBilletdouxmay detain you an Hour: I have had so much Goodness to write you enow to entertain you for so long at least, and sometimes reproach my self for it; but, contrary to all my Scruples, I find my self disposed to give you those frequent Marks of my Tenderness. If yours be so great as you express it, you ought to kiss my Letters a thousand times; you ought to read them with Attention, and weigh every Word, and value every Line. A Lover may receive a thousand endearing Words from a Mistress, more easily than a Billet. One says a great many kind things of course to a Lover, which one is not willing to write, or to give testify'd under one's Hand, signed and sealed. But whenonce a Lover has brought his Mistress to that degree of Love, he ought to assure himself, she loves not at the common rate.
Love's Witness.
Slight unpremeditated Words are borneBy every common Wind into the Air;Carelessly utter'd, die as soon as born,And in one instant give both Hope and Fear:Breathing all Contraries with the same Wind,According to the Caprice of the Mind.ButBilletdouxare constant Witnesses,Substantial Records to Eternity;Just Evidences, who the Truth confess,On which the Lover safely may rely;They're serious Thoughts, digested and resolv'd;And last, when Words are into Clouds devolv'd.
Slight unpremeditated Words are borneBy every common Wind into the Air;Carelessly utter'd, die as soon as born,And in one instant give both Hope and Fear:Breathing all Contraries with the same Wind,According to the Caprice of the Mind.
ButBilletdouxare constant Witnesses,Substantial Records to Eternity;Just Evidences, who the Truth confess,On which the Lover safely may rely;They're serious Thoughts, digested and resolv'd;And last, when Words are into Clouds devolv'd.
I will not doubt, but you give credit to all that is kind in my Letters; and I will believe, you find a Satisfaction in the Entertainment they give you, and that the Hour of reading 'em is not disagreeable to you. I could wish, your Pleasure might be extreme, even to the degree of suffering the Thought of my Absence not to diminish any part of it. And I could wish too, at the end of your Reading, you would sigh with Pleasure, and say to your self—
The Transport.
OIris!While you thus can charm,While at this Distance you can wound and warm;My absent Torments I will bless and bear,That give me such dear Proofs how kind you are.Present, the valu'd Store was only seen,Now I am rifling the bright Mass within.Every dear, past, and happy Day,When languishing atIris'Feet I lay;When all my Prayers and all my Tears could moveNo more than her Permission, I should love:Vain with my Glorious Destiny,I thought, beyond, scarce any Heaven cou'd be.But, charming Maid, now I am taught,That Absence has a thousand Joys to give,On which the Lover present never thought,That recompense the Hours we grieve.Rather by Absence let me be undone,Than forfeit all the Pleasures that has won.
OIris!While you thus can charm,While at this Distance you can wound and warm;My absent Torments I will bless and bear,That give me such dear Proofs how kind you are.Present, the valu'd Store was only seen,Now I am rifling the bright Mass within.
Every dear, past, and happy Day,When languishing atIris'Feet I lay;When all my Prayers and all my Tears could moveNo more than her Permission, I should love:Vain with my Glorious Destiny,I thought, beyond, scarce any Heaven cou'd be.
But, charming Maid, now I am taught,That Absence has a thousand Joys to give,On which the Lover present never thought,That recompense the Hours we grieve.Rather by Absence let me be undone,Than forfeit all the Pleasures that has won.
With this little Rapture, I wish you wou'd finish the reading my Letters, shut your Scrutore, and quit your Cabinet; for my Love leads to eleven o'clock.
The Hour to write in.
If myWatchdid not inform you 'tis now time to write, I believe,Damon, your Heart wou'd, and tell you also that I should take it kindly, if you would employ a whole Hour that way; and that you should never lose an Occasion of writing to me, since you are assured of the Welcome I give your Letters. Perhaps you will say, an Hour is too much, and that 'tis not the mode to write long Letters. I grant you,Damon, when we write those indifferent ones of Gallantry in course, or necessary Compliment; the handsome comprizing of which in the fewest Words, renders 'em the most agreeable: But in Love we have a thousand foolish things to say, that of themselves bear no great Sound, but have a mighty Sense in Love; for there is a peculiar Eloquence natural alone to a Lover, and to be understood by no other Creature: To those, Words have a thousand Graces and Sweetnesses; which, to the Unconcerned, appear Meanness, and easy Sense, at the best. But,Damon, you and I are none of those ill Judges of the Beauties of Love; we can penetrate beyondthe Vulgar, and perceive the fine Soul in every Line, thro' all the humble Dress of Phrase; when possibly they who think they discern it best in florid Language, do not see it at all.Lovewas not born or bred in Courts, but Cottages; and, nurs'd in Groves and Shades, smiles on the Plains, and wantons in the Streams; all unador'd and harmless. Therefore,Damon, do not consult your Wit in this Affair, butLovealone; speak all that he and Nature taught you, and let the fine Things you learn in Schools alone: Make use of those Flowers you have gather'd there, when you converst with States-men and the Gown. LetIrispossess your Heart in all its simple Innocence, that's the best Eloquence to her that loves: and that is my Instruction to a Lover that would succeed in his Amours; for I have a Heart very difficult to please, and this is the nearest way to it.
Advice to Lovers.
Lovers,if you wou'd gain a Heart,OfDamonlearn to win the Prize;He'll shew you all its tend'rest part,And where its greatest Danger lies;The Magazine of its Disdain,Where Honour, feebly guarded, does remain.If present, do but little say;Enough the silent Lover speaks:But wait, and sigh, and gaze all day;Such Rhet'rick more than Language takes.For Words the dullest way do move;And utter'd more to shew your Wit than Love.Let your Eyes tell her of your Heart;Its Story is, for Words, too delicate.Souls thus exchange, and thus impart,And all their Secrets can relate.A Tear, a broken Sigh, she'll understand;Or the soft trembling Pressings of the Hand.Or if your Pain must be in Words exprest,Let 'em fall gently, unassur'd and slow;And where they fail, your Looks may tell the rest:ThusDamonspoke, and I was conquer'd so.The witty Talker has mistook his Art;The modest Lover only charms the Heart.Thus, while all day you gazing sit,And fear to speak, and fear your Fate,You more Advantages by Silence get,Than the gay forward Youth with all his Prate.Let him be silent here; but when away,Whatever Love can dictate, let him say.There let the bashful Soul unveil,And give a loose to Love and Truth:Let him improve the amorous Tale,With all the Force of Words, and Fire of Youth:There all, and any thing let him express;Too long he cannot write, too much confess.
Lovers,if you wou'd gain a Heart,OfDamonlearn to win the Prize;He'll shew you all its tend'rest part,And where its greatest Danger lies;The Magazine of its Disdain,Where Honour, feebly guarded, does remain.
If present, do but little say;Enough the silent Lover speaks:But wait, and sigh, and gaze all day;Such Rhet'rick more than Language takes.For Words the dullest way do move;And utter'd more to shew your Wit than Love.
Let your Eyes tell her of your Heart;Its Story is, for Words, too delicate.Souls thus exchange, and thus impart,And all their Secrets can relate.A Tear, a broken Sigh, she'll understand;Or the soft trembling Pressings of the Hand.
Or if your Pain must be in Words exprest,Let 'em fall gently, unassur'd and slow;And where they fail, your Looks may tell the rest:ThusDamonspoke, and I was conquer'd so.The witty Talker has mistook his Art;The modest Lover only charms the Heart.
Thus, while all day you gazing sit,And fear to speak, and fear your Fate,You more Advantages by Silence get,Than the gay forward Youth with all his Prate.Let him be silent here; but when away,Whatever Love can dictate, let him say.
There let the bashful Soul unveil,And give a loose to Love and Truth:Let him improve the amorous Tale,With all the Force of Words, and Fire of Youth:There all, and any thing let him express;Too long he cannot write, too much confess.
ODamon! How well have you made me understand this soft Pleasure! You know my Tenderness too well, not to be sensible how I am charmed with your agreeable long Letters.
The Invention.
Ah! he who first found out the waySouls to each other to convey,Without dull Speaking, sure must beSomething above Humanity.Let the fond World in vain dispute,And the first Sacred Mystery imputeOf Letters to the learned Brood,And of the Glory cheat a God:'TwasLovealone that first the Art essay'd,}AndPsychewas the first fair yielding Maid,}That was by the dearBilletdouxbetray'd.}
Ah! he who first found out the waySouls to each other to convey,Without dull Speaking, sure must beSomething above Humanity.Let the fond World in vain dispute,And the first Sacred Mystery imputeOf Letters to the learned Brood,And of the Glory cheat a God:'TwasLovealone that first the Art essay'd,}AndPsychewas the first fair yielding Maid,}That was by the dearBilletdouxbetray'd.}
It is an Art too ingenious to have been found out by Man, and too necessary to Lovers, not to have been invented by the God of Love himself. But,Damon, I do not pretend to exact from you those Letters of Gallantry, which, I have told you, are filled with nothing but fine Thoughts, and writ with all the Arts of Wit and Subtilty: I would have yours still all tender unaffected Love, Words unchosen, Thoughts unstudied, and Love unfeign'd. I had rather find more Softness than Wit in your Passion; more of Nature than of Art; more of the Lover than the Poet.
Nor would I have you write any of those little short Letters, that are read over in a Minute; in Love, long Letters bring a long Pleasure: Do not trouble your self to make 'em fine, or write a great deal of Wit and Sense in a few Lines; that is the Notion of a witty Billet, in any Affair but that of Love. And have a care rather to avoid these Graces to a Mistress; and assure your self, dearDamon, that what pleases the Soul pleases the Eye, and the Largeness or Bulk of your Letter shall never offend me; and that I only am displeased when I find them small. A Letter is ever the best and most powerful Agent to a Mistress, it almost always persuades, 'tis always renewing little Impressions, that possibly otherwise Absence would deface. Make use then,Damon, of your Time while it is given you, and thank me that I permit you to write to me: Perhaps I shall not always continue in the Humour of suffering you to do so; and it may so happen, by some turn of Chance and Fortune, that you may be deprived, at the same time, both of my Presence, and of the Means of sending to me. I will believe that such an Accident would be a great Misfortune to you, for I have often heard you say, that, 'To make the most happy Lover suffer Martyrdom, one need only forbid him Seeing, Speaking and Writing to the Object he loves.' Take all the Advantages then you can, you cannot give me too often Marks too powerful of yourPassion: Write therefore during this Hour, every Day. I give you leave to believe, that while you do so, you are serving me the most obligingly and agreeably you can, while absent; and that you are giving me a Remedy against all Grief, Uneasiness, Melancholy, and Despair; nay, if you exceed your Hour, you need not be asham'd. The Time you employ in this kind Devoir, is the Time that I shall be grateful for, and no doubt will recompense it. You ought not however to neglect Heaven for me; I will give you time for your Devotion, for myWatchtells you 'tis time to go to the Temple.
Indispensible Duty.
There are certain Duties which one ought never to neglect: That of adoring the Gods is of this nature; and which we ought to pay, from the bottom of our Hearts: And that,Damon, is the only time I will dispense with your not thinking on me. But I would not have you go to one of those Temples, where the celebrated Beauties, and those that make a profession of Gallantry, go; and who come thither only to see, and be seen; and whither they repair, more to shew their Beauty and Dress, than to honour the Gods. If you will take my advice, and oblige my wish, you shall go to those that are least frequented, and you shall appear there like a Man that has a perfect Veneration for all things Sacred.
The Instruction.
Damon,if your Heart and Flame,You wish, should always be the same,Do not give it leave to rove,Nor expose it to new Harms:Ere you think on't, you may love,If you gaze on Beauty's Charms:If with me you wou'd not part,Turn your Eyes into your Heart.If you find a new DesireIn your easy Soul take fire,From the tempting Ruin fly;Think it faithless, think it base:Fancy soon will fade and die,If you wisely cease to gaze.Lovers should have Honour too,Or they pay but half Love's due.Do not to the Temple go,With design to gaze or show:Whate'er Thoughts you have abroad,Tho' you can deceive elsewhere,There's no feigning with your God;Souls should be all perfect there.The Heart that's to the Altar brought,Only Heaven should fill its Thought.Do not your sober Thoughts perplex,By gazing on the Ogling Sex:Or if Beauty call your Eyes,Do not on the Object dwell;Guard your Heart from the Surprize,By thinkingIrisdoth excell.Above all Earthly Things I'd be,}Damon,most belov'd by thee;}And only Heaven must rival me.}
Damon,if your Heart and Flame,You wish, should always be the same,Do not give it leave to rove,Nor expose it to new Harms:Ere you think on't, you may love,If you gaze on Beauty's Charms:If with me you wou'd not part,Turn your Eyes into your Heart.
If you find a new DesireIn your easy Soul take fire,From the tempting Ruin fly;Think it faithless, think it base:Fancy soon will fade and die,If you wisely cease to gaze.Lovers should have Honour too,Or they pay but half Love's due.
Do not to the Temple go,With design to gaze or show:Whate'er Thoughts you have abroad,Tho' you can deceive elsewhere,There's no feigning with your God;Souls should be all perfect there.The Heart that's to the Altar brought,Only Heaven should fill its Thought.
Do not your sober Thoughts perplex,By gazing on the Ogling Sex:Or if Beauty call your Eyes,Do not on the Object dwell;Guard your Heart from the Surprize,By thinkingIrisdoth excell.Above all Earthly Things I'd be,}Damon,most belov'd by thee;}And only Heaven must rival me.}
Forc'd Entertainment.
I Perceive it will be very difficult for you to quit the Temple, without being surrounded with Compliments from People of Ceremony, Friends, and Newsmongers, and several of those sorts of Persons, who afflict and busy themselves, and rejoice at a hundred things they have no Interest in; Coquets and Politicians, who make it the Business of their whole Lives, to gather all the News of the Town; adding or diminishing according to the Stockof their Wit and Invention, and spreading it all abroad to the believing Fools and Gossips; and perplexing every body with a hundred ridiculous Novels, which they pass off for Wit and Entertainment; or else some of those Recounters of Adventures, that are always telling of Intrigues, and that make a Secret to a hundred People of a thousand foolish things they have heard: Like a certain pert and impertinent Lady of the Town, whose Youth and Beauty being past, sets up for Wit, to uphold a feeble Empire over idle Hearts; and whose Character is this:
The Coquet.
Melinda,who had never beenEsteem'd a Beauty at fifteen,Always amorous was, and kind:To every Swain she lent an Ear;Free as Air, but false as Wind;Yet none complain'd, she was severe.She eas'd more than she made complain;Was always singing, pert, and vain.Where-e'er the Throng was, she was seen,And swept the Youths along the Green;With equal Grace she flatter'd all;And fondly proud of all Address,Her Smiles invite, her Eyes do call,And her vain Heart her Looks confess.She rallies this, to that she bow'd,Was talking ever, laughing loud.On every side she makes advance,And every where a Confidence;She tells for Secrets all she knows,And all to know she does pretend:Beauty in Maids she treats as Foes:But every handsome Youth as Friend.Scandal still passes off for Truth;And Noise and Nonsense, Wit and Youth.Coquetall o'er, and every part,Yet wanting Beauty, even of Art;Herds with the ugly, and the old;And plays the Critick on the rest:Of Men, the bashful, and the bold,Either, and all, by turns, likes best:Even now, tho' Youth be langisht, sheSets up for Love and Gallantry.
Melinda,who had never beenEsteem'd a Beauty at fifteen,Always amorous was, and kind:To every Swain she lent an Ear;Free as Air, but false as Wind;Yet none complain'd, she was severe.She eas'd more than she made complain;Was always singing, pert, and vain.
Where-e'er the Throng was, she was seen,And swept the Youths along the Green;With equal Grace she flatter'd all;And fondly proud of all Address,Her Smiles invite, her Eyes do call,And her vain Heart her Looks confess.She rallies this, to that she bow'd,Was talking ever, laughing loud.
On every side she makes advance,And every where a Confidence;She tells for Secrets all she knows,And all to know she does pretend:Beauty in Maids she treats as Foes:But every handsome Youth as Friend.Scandal still passes off for Truth;And Noise and Nonsense, Wit and Youth.
Coquetall o'er, and every part,Yet wanting Beauty, even of Art;Herds with the ugly, and the old;And plays the Critick on the rest:Of Men, the bashful, and the bold,Either, and all, by turns, likes best:Even now, tho' Youth be langisht, sheSets up for Love and Gallantry.
This sort of Creature,Damon, is very dangerous; not that I fear you will squander away a Heart upon her, but your Hours; for in spight of you, she'll detain you with a thousand Impertinencies, and eternal Tattle. She passes for a judging Wit; and there is nothing so troublesome as such a Pretender. She, perhaps, may get some knowledge of our Correspondence; and then, no doubt, will improve it to my Disadvantage. Possibly she may rail at me; that is her fashion by the way of friendly Speaking; and an aukward Commendation, the most effectual way of Defaming and Traducing. Perhaps she tells you, in a cold Tone, that you are a happy Man to be belov'd by me: ThatIrisindeed is handsome, and she wonders she has no more Lovers; but the Men are not of her mind; if they were, you should have more Rivals. She commends my Face, but that I have blue Eyes, and 'tis pity my Complexion is no better: My Shape but too much inclining to fat. Cries—She would charm infinitely with her Wit, but that she knows too well she is Mistress of it. And concludes,—But all together she is well enough.—Thus she runs on without giving you leave to edge in a word in my defence; and ever and anon crying up her own Conduct and Management: Tells you how she is opprest with Lovers, and fatigu'd with Addresses; and recommending her self, at every turn, with a perceivable Cunning: And all the while is jilting you of your good Opinion; which she would buy at the price of any body's Repose, or her own Fame, tho' but for the Vanity of adding tothe number of her Lovers. When she sees a new Spark, the first thing she does, she enquires into his Estate; if she find it such as may (if the Coxcomb be well manag'd) supply her Vanity, she makes advances to him, and applies her self to those little Arts she usually makes use of to gain her Fools; and according to his Humour dresses and affects her own. But,Damon, since I point to no particular Person in this Character, I will not name who you shall avoid; but all of this sort I conjure you, wheresoever you find 'em. But if unlucky Chance throw you in their way, hear all they say, without credit or regard, as far as Decency will suffer you; hear 'em without approving their Foppery; and hear 'em without giving 'em cause to censure you. But 'tis so much Time lost to listen to all the Novels this sort of People will perplex you with; whose Business is to be idle, and who even tire themselves with their own Impertinencies. And be assur'd after all there is nothing they can tell you that is worth your knowing. AndDamon, a perfect Lover never asks any News but of the Maid he loves.
The Enquiry.
Damon,if your Love be trueTo the Heart that you possess,Tell me what have you to doWhere you have no Tenderness?Her Affairs who cares to learn,For whom he has not some Concern?If a Lover fain would knowIf the Object lov'd be true,Let her but industrious beTo watch his Curiosity;Tho' ne'er so cold his Questions seem,They come from warmer Thoughts within.When I hear a Swain enquireWhat gayMelindadoes to live,I conclude there is some FireIn a Heart inquisitive;Or 'tis, at least, the Bill that's setTo shew, The Heart is to be let.
Damon,if your Love be trueTo the Heart that you possess,Tell me what have you to doWhere you have no Tenderness?Her Affairs who cares to learn,For whom he has not some Concern?
If a Lover fain would knowIf the Object lov'd be true,Let her but industrious beTo watch his Curiosity;Tho' ne'er so cold his Questions seem,They come from warmer Thoughts within.
When I hear a Swain enquireWhat gayMelindadoes to live,I conclude there is some FireIn a Heart inquisitive;Or 'tis, at least, the Bill that's setTo shew, The Heart is to be let.
Dinner-Time.
Leave all those fond Entertainments, or you will disoblige me, and make Dinner wait for you; for myCupidtells you 'tis that Hour.Lovedoes not pretend to make you lose that; nor is it my Province to order you your Diet. Here I give you a perfect Liberty to do what you please; and possibly, 'tis the only Hour in the whole four and twenty that I will absolutely resign you, or dispense with your even so much as thinking on me. 'Tis true, in seating your self at Table, I would not have you placed over-against a very beautiful Object; for in such a one there are a thousand little Graces in Speaking, Looking, and Laughing that fail not to charm, if one gives way to the Eyes, to gaze and wander that way; in which, perhaps, in spight of you, you will find a Pleasure: And while you do so, tho' without design or concern, you give the fair Charmer a sort of Vanity, in believing you have placed your self there, only for the advantage of looking on her; and she assumes a hundred little Graces and Affectations which are not natural to her, to compleat a Conquest, which she believes so well begun already. She softens her Eyes, and sweetens her Mouth; and in fine, puts on another Air than when she had no Design, and when you did not, by your continual looking on her, rouze her Vanity, and encrease her easy Opinion of her own Charms. Perhaps she knows I have some Interest in your Heart, and prides her self, at least, with believing she has attracted the Eyes of my Lover, if not his Heart; and thinks it easy to vanquish the whole, if she pleases; and triumphs over me in hersecret Imaginations. Remember,Damon, that while you act thus in the Company and Conversation of other Beauties, every Look or Word you give in favour of 'em, is an Indignity to my Reputation; and which you cannot suffer if you love me truly, and with Honour: and assure your self, so much Vanity as you inspire in her, so much Fame you rob me of; for whatever Praises you give another Beauty, so much you take away from mine. Therefore, if you dine in Company, do as others do: Be generally civil, not applying your self by Words or Looks to any particular Person: Be as gay as you please: Talk and laugh with all, for this is not the Hour for Chagrin.
The Permission.
MyDamon,tho' I stint your Love,I will not stint your Appetite;That I would have you still improve,By every new and fresh Delight.Feast tillApollohides his Head,Or drink the Am'rous God toThetis'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,'Tis theSilenianGod 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,OfDamon'sThoughts, 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 prescribebut to your Flame;For I, your Mistress, not Physician, am.
MyDamon,tho' I stint your Love,I will not stint your Appetite;That I would have you still improve,By every new and fresh Delight.Feast tillApollohides his Head,Or drink the Am'rous God toThetis'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,'Tis theSilenianGod 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,OfDamon'sThoughts, 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 prescribebut to your Flame;For I, your Mistress, not Physician, am.
Visits to Friends.
Damon, myWatchis 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 whenLoveestablishes himself in a Heart, he reigns a Tyrant there, and will not suffer even Friendship, if it pretend to share his Empire there.
Cupid.
Loveis a God, whose charming SwayBoth Heaven, and Earth, and Seas obey;A Power that will not mingled beWith 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.
Loveis a God, whose charming SwayBoth Heaven, and Earth, and Seas obey;A Power that will not mingled beWith 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 flatterhimself 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 anyCoquetof 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 whenhe 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 butIris? 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 hopeDamonfinds 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:'Tis Demonstration that can best reclaim.Shew me the Path you'd have me go;With such a Guide I cannot stray:What you approve, whate'er you do,It is but just I bend 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:'Tis 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.
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:'Tis Demonstration that can best reclaim.
Shew me the Path you'd have me go;With such a Guide I cannot stray:What you approve, whate'er you do,It is but just I bend 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:'Tis 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.
General Conversation.
In this Visiting-Hour, many People will happen to meet at one and the same Time together, in a Place: And as you make not Visits to Friends, to be silent, you ought to enter into Conversation with 'em; but those Conversations ought to be general, and of general things: for there is no necessity of making your Friend the Confident of your Amours. 'Twould infinitely displease me, to hear you have reveal'd to them all that I have repos'd in you; 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, andthe 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 confessThe 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 unfoldA 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.
Aminta,fear not to confessThe 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 unfoldA 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 differentSouls, 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.
'Tis also in these Conversations, that those indiscreetly civil Persons often are, who think to oblige a good Man, by letting him know he is belov'd by some one or other; and making him understand how many good Qualities he is Master of, to render him agreeable to the Fair Sex, if he 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 sayingyou 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.
Dangerous Visits.
I foresee, or fear, that these busy impertinent Friends will oblige you to visit some Ladies of their Acquaintance, or yours; myWatchdoes 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 aJe 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.