_But a well-digested Flame,_ _That will always be the same;_ _And that does from Merit grow,_ _Establish’d by our Reason too;_ _By a better way will prove,_ _’.is th’ unerring Fire of Love._ _Lasting Records it will give:_ _And, that all she says may live;_ _Sacred and authentick stand,_ _Her Heart confirms it by her Hand._ _If this, a Maid, well born, allow;_ Damon, _believe her just and true._ NINE o’.LOCK. _Melancholy Reflections._ You will not have much trouble to explain what my _Watch_ designs here. There can be no Thought more afflicting, than that of the Absence of a Mistress; and which the Sighings of the Heart will soon make you find. Ten thousand Fears oppress him; he is jealous of every body, and envies those Eyes and Ears that are charmed by being near the Object ador’d. He grows impatient, and makes a thousand Resolutions, and as soon abandons them all. He gives himself wholly up to the Torment of Incertainty; and by degrees, from one cruel Thought to another, winds himself up to insupportable Chagrin. Take this Hour then, to think on your Misfortunes, which cannot be small to a Soul that is wholly sensible of Love. And every one knows, that a Lover, deprived of the Object of his Heart, is deprived of all the World, and inconsolable: For tho’ one wishes without ceasing for the dear Charmer one loves, and tho’ you speak of her every minute; and tho’ you are writing to her every day, and tho’ you are infinitely pleas’d with the dear and tender Answers; yet, to speak sincerely, it must be confessed, that the Felicity of a true Lover is to be always near his Mistress. And you may tell me, O _Damon_! what you please; and say that Absence inspires the Flame, which perpetual Presence would satiate: I love too well to be of that mind, and when I am, I shall believe my Passion is declining. I know not whether it advances your Love; but surely it must ruin your Repose: And it is impossible to be, at once, an absent Lover, and happy too. For my part, I can meet with nothing that can please in the absence of _Damon_; but on the contrary I see all things with disgust. I will flatter my self, that ‘tis so with you; and that the least Evils appear great Misfortunes; and that all those who speak to you of any thing but of what you love, increase your Pain, by a new remembrance of her Absence. I will believe that these are your Sentiments, when you are assur’d not to see me in some weeks; and if your Heart do not betray your Words, all those days will be tedious to you. I would not, however, have your Melancholy too extreme; and to lessen it, you may persuade your self, that I partake it with you: for, I remember, in your last you told me, you would wish we should be both griev’d at the same time, and both at the same time pleas’d; and I believe I love too well not to obey you. Love secur’d.