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 Desire_ _In 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 thinking_ Iris _doth excell._ _Above all Earthly Things I’d be,_ } Damon, _most belov’d by thee;_ } _And only Heaven must rival me._ } ONE o’.LOCK. _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 Stock of 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 been_ _Esteem’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._