Remember also, _Damon_, that I have preferred you before all those that have been thought worthy of my Esteem; and that I have shut my Eyes to all their pleading Merits, and could survey none but yours. Consider then, that you had not only the Happiness to please me, but that you only found out the way of doing it, and I had the Goodness at last to tell you so, contrary to all the Delicacy and Niceness of my Soul, contrary to my Prudence, and all those Scruples, you know, are natural to my Humour. My Tenderness proceeded further, and I gave you innocent Marks of my new-born Passion, on all occasions that presented themselves: For, after that from my Eyes and Tongue you knew the Sentiments of my Heart, I confirm’d that Truth to you by my Letters. Confess, _Damon_, that if you make these Reflections, you will not pass this Hour very disagreeably. Beginning Love. _As free as wanton Winds I liv’d,_ _That unconcern’d do play:_ _No broken Faith, no Fate I griev’d;_ _No Fortune gave me Joy._ _A dull Content crown’d all my Hours,_ _My Heart no Sighs opprest;_ _I call’d in vain on no deaf Pow’rs,_ _To ease a tortur’d Breast._ _The sighing Swains regardless pin’d,_ _And strove in vain to please:_ _With pain I civilly was kind,_ _But could afford no Ease._ _Tho’ Wit and Beauty did abound,_ _The Charm was wanting still,_ _That could inspire the tender Wound,_ _Or bend my careless Will._ _Till in my Heart a kindling Flame_ _Your softer Sighs had blown;_ _Which I, with striving, Love and Shame,_ _Too sensibly did own._ _Whate’er the God before cou’d plead;_ _Whate’er the Youth’s Desert;_ _The feeble Siege in vain was laid_ _Against my stubborn Heart._ _At first my Sighs and Blushes spoke,_ _Just when your Sighs would rise;_ _And when you gaz’d, I wish’d to look,_ _But durst not meet your Eyes._ _I trembled when my Hand you press’d,_ _Nor cou’d my Guilt controul;_ _But Love prevail’d, and I confess’d_ _The Secrets of my Soul._ _And when upon the giving part,_ _My Present to avow,_ _By all the ways confirm’d my Heart,_ _That Honour wou’d allow;_ _Too mean was all that I could say,_ _Too poorly understood:_ _I gave my Soul the noblest way,_ _My Letters made it good._