_That_ Love’s _my Conduct where I go,_ _And_ Love _instructs me all I do._ _Prudence no longer is my Guide,_ _Nor take I Counsel of my Pride._ _In vain does Honour now invade,_ _In vain does Reason take my part,_ _If against_ Love _it do persuade,_ _If it rebel against my Heart._ _If the soft Ev’ning do invite,_ _And I incline to take the Air,_ _The Birds, the Spring, the Flow’rs no more delight;_ _’.is_ Love _makes all the Pleasure there:_ _Love, which about me still I bear;_ _I’m charm’d with what I thither bring,_ _And add a Softness to the Spring._ _If for Devotion I design,_ Love _meets me, even at the Shrine;_ _In all my Worships claims a part,_ _And robs even Heaven of my Heart:_ _All Day does counsel aud controul,_ _And all the Night employs my Soul._ _No wonder then if all you think be true,_ _That_ Love’s _concern’d in all I do for you._ And, _Damon_, you, know that _Love_ is no ill Master; and I must say, with a Blush, that he has found me no unapt Scholar; and he instructs too agreeably not to succeed in all he undertakes. _Who can resist his soft Commands?_ _When he resolves, what God withstands?_ But I ought to explain to you my _Watch_: The naked _Love_ which you will find in the middle of it, with his Wings clipp’d, to shew you he is fixed and constant, and will not fly away, points you out with his Arrow the four and twenty Hours that compose the Day and the Night: Over every Hour you will find written what you ought to do, during its Course; and every Half-hour is marked with a Sigh, since the quality of a Lover is, to sigh day and night: Sighs are the Children of Lovers, that are born every Hour. And that my _Watch_ may always be just, _Love_ himself ought to conduct it; and your Heart should keep time with the Movement: _My Present’s delicate and new,_ _If by your Heart the Motion’s set;_ _According as that’s false or true,_ _You’ll find my_ Watch _will answer it._ Every Hour is tedious to a Lover separated from his Mistress: and to shew you how good I am, I will have my _Watch_ instruct you, to pass some of them without Inquietude; that the force of your Imagination may sometimes charm the Trouble you have for my Absence: _Perhaps I am mistaken here,_ _My Heart may too much Credit give:_ _But,_ Damon, _you can charm my Fear,_ _And soon my Error undeceive._ But I will not disturb my Repose at this time with a Jealousy, which I hope is altogether frivolous and vain; but begin to instruct you in the Mysteries of my _Watch_. Cast then your Eyes upon the eighth Hour in the Morning, which is the Hour I would have you begin to wake: you will find there written, EIGHT o’.LOCK. _Agreeable Reverie._