You shall now imagine, that one of your Rivals is with me, interrupting all you say, or hindering all you would say; that I have no Attention to what you say aloud to me, but that I incline mine Ear to hearken to all that he whispers to me. You shall repine, that he pursues me every where, and is eternally at your heels if you approach me; that I caress him with Sweetness in my Eyes, and that Vanity in my Heart, that possesses the Humours of almost all the Fair; that is, to believe it greatly for my Glory to have abundance of Rivals for my Lovers. I know you love me too well not to be extreamely uneasy in the Company of a Rival, and to have one perpetually near me; for let him be belov’d or not by the Mistress, it must be confess’d, a Rival is a very troublesome Person. But, to afflict you to the utmost, I will have you imagine that my Eyes approve of all his Thoughts; that they flatter him with Hopes; and that I have taken away my Heart from you, to make a Present of it to this more lucky Man. You shall suffer, while possess’d with this Dream, all that a cruel Jealousy can make a tender Soul suffer. The Torment. _O Jealousy! thou Passion most ingrate!_ _Tormenting as Despair, envious as Hate!_ _Spightful as Witchcraft, which th’ Invoker harms;_ _Worse than the Wretch that suffers by its Charms._ _Thou subtil Poison in the Fancy bred,_ } _Diffus’d thro’ every Vein, the Heart and Head,_ } _And over all, like wild Contagion spread._ } _Thou, whose sole Property is to destroy,_ _Thou Opposite to Good, Antipathy to Joy;_ _Whose Attributes are cruel Rage and Fire,_ _Reason debauch’d, false Sense, and mad Desire._ In fine, it is a Passion that ruffles all the Senses, and disorders the whole Frame of Nature. It makes one hear and see what was never spoke, and what never was in view. ‘Tis the Bane of Health and Beauty, an unmannerly Intruder; and an Evil of Life worse than Death. She is a very cruel Tyrant in the Heart; she possesses and pierces it with infinite Unquiets; and we may lay it down as a certain Maxim-- _She that wou’d rack a Lover’s Heart_ _To the extent of Cruelty,_ _Must his Tranquillity subvert_ _To the most tort’ring Jealousy._ I speak too sensibly of this Passion, not to have lov’d well enough to have been touch’d with it: And you shall be this unhappy Lover _Damon_, during this Dream, in which nothing shall present it self to your tumultuous Thoughts, that shall not bring its Pain. You shall here pass and repass a hundred Designs, that shall confound one another. In fine, _Damon_, Anger, Hatred, and Revenge, shall surround your Heart. _There they shall all together reign_ _With mighty Force, with mighty Pain;_ _In spight of Reason, in contempt of Love:_ _Sometimes by turns, sometimes united move._ FIVE o’.LOCK.