Without this charming Union, our Souls could not communicate those invisible Sweetnesses, which compleat the Felicity of Lovers, and which the most tender and passionate Expressions are too feeble to make us comprehend. But, my adorable _Iris_, I am contented with the vast Pleasure I feel in loving well, without the care of expressing it well; if you will imagine my Pleasure, without expressing it: For I confess, ‘twould be no Joy to me to adore you, if you did not perfectly believe I did adore you. Nay, tho’ you lov’d me, if you had no Faith in me, I should languish, and love in as much Pain, as if you scorn’d; and at the same time believ’d I dy’d for you: For surely, _Iris_, ‘tis a greater Pleasure to please than to be pleas’d; and the glorious Power of Giving is infinitely a greater Satisfaction, than that of Receiving: there is so Great and God-like a Quality in it. I would have your Belief therefore equal to my Passion, extreme; as indeed all Love should be, or it cannot bear that Divine Name: it can pass but for an indifferent Affection. And these Cyphers ought to make the World find all the noble Force of delicate Passion: for, Oh my _Iris_! what would Love signify, if we did not love fervently? Sisters and Brothers love; Friends and Relations have Affections: but where the Souls are join’d, which are fill’d with eternal soft Wishes, Oh! there is some Excess of Pleasure, which cannot be express’d! Your Looks, your dear obliging Words, and your charming Letters, have sufficiently persuaded me of your Tenderness; and you might surely see the Excess of my Passion by my Cares, my Sighs, and entire Resignation to your Will. I never think of _Iris_, but my Heart feels double Flames, and pants and heaves with double Sighs; and whose Force makes its Ardours known, by a thousand Transports: And they are very much to blame, to give the Name of Love to feeble easy Passions. Such transitory tranquil Inclinations are at best but Well-wishers to Love; and a Heart that has such Heats as those, ought not to put it self into the Rank of those nobler Victims that are offer’d at the Shrine of Love. But our Souls, _Iris_, burn with a more glorious Flame, that lights and conducts us beyond a Possibility of losing one another. ’.is this that flatters all my Hopes; ‘tis this alone makes me believe my self worthy of _Iris_: And let her judge of its Violence, by the Greatness of its Splendour. Does not a Passion of this nature, so true, so ardent, deserve to be crown’d? And will you wonder to see, over this Cypher, a Wreath of Myrtles, those Boughs so sacred to the Queen of Love, and so worshipp’d by Lovers? ‘Tis with these soft Wreaths, that those are crown’d, who understand how to love well and faithfully.