Love _is a God, whose charming Sway_ _Both Heaven, and Earth, and Seas obey;_ _A Power that will not mingled be_ _With 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 flatter himself 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 any _Coquet_ of 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 when he 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