You may believe I did not easily, nor suddenly, bring my Heart to this Condescension; but I lov’d, and all things in _Damon_ were capable of making me resolve so to do. I could not think it a Crime, where every Grace, and every Virtue justified my Choice: And when once one is assured of this, we find not much difficulty in owning that Passion which will so well commend one’s Judgment; and there is no Obstacle that Love does not surmount. I confess’d my Weakness a thousand ways, before I told it you; and I remember all those things with Pleasure, but yet I remember ‘em also with Shame. ELEVEN o’.LOCK. _Supper._ I Will believe, _Damon_, that you have been so well entertained during this Hour, and have found so much Sweetness in these Thoughts, that if one did not tell you that Supper waits, you would lose your self in Reflections so pleasing, many more Minutes. But you must go where you are expected; perhaps, among the fair, the young, the gay; but do not abandon your Heart to too much Joy, tho’ you have so much reason to be contented: but the greatest Pleasures are always imperfect, if the Object belov’d do not partake of it. For this reason be chearful and merry with reserve: Do not talk too much, I know you do not love it; and if you do it, ‘twill be the effect of too much Complaisance, or with some design of pleasing too well; for you know your own charming Power, and how agreeable your Wit and Conversation are to all the World. Remember, I am covetous of every Word you speak, that is not address’d to me, and envy the happy list’ner, if I am not by. And I may reply to you as _Aminta_ did to _Philander_, when he charged her of loving a Talker: and because, perhaps, you have not heard it, I will, to divert you, send it to you; and at the same time assure you, _Damon_, that your more noble Quality, of speaking little, has reduc’d me to a perfect Abhorrence of those wordy Sparks, that value themselves upon their ready and much talking upon every trivial Subject, and who have so good an Opinion of their Talent that way, they will let no body edge in a word, or a reply; but will make all the Conversation themselves, that they may pass for very entertaining Persons, and pure Company. But the Verses-- The Reformation. Philander, _since you’ll have it so,_ _I grant I was impertinent;_ _And, till this Moment, did not know,_ _Thro’ all my Life what ‘twas I meant._ _Your kind Opinion was the flattering Glass,_ _In which my Mind found how deform’d it was._ _In your clear Sense, which knows no Art,_ _I saw the Errors of my Soul:_ _And all the Foibless of my Heart_ _With one Reflection you controul._ _Kind as a God, and gently you chastise:_ _By what you hate, you teach me to be wise._