But, O _Iris_! the Beauties of the Body are imperfect, if the Beauties of the Soul do not advance themselves to an equal Height. But, O _Iris_! what Mortal is there so damn’d to Malice, that does not, with Adoration, confess, that you, O charming Maid, have an equal Portion of all the Braveries and Virtues of the Mind? And who is it, that confesses your Beauty, that does not at the same time acknowledge and bow to your Wisdom? The whole World admires both in you; and all with impatience ask, Which of the two is most surprizing, your Beauty, or your Discretion? But we dispute in vain on that excellent Subject; for after all, ‘tis determin’d, that the two Charms are equal. ‘Tis none of those idle Discretions that consists in Words alone, and ever takes the Shadow of Reason for the Substance; and that makes use of all the little Artifices of Subtlety, and florid Talking, to make the Out-side of the Argument appear fine, and leave the Inside wholly misunderstood; who runs away with Words, and never thinks of Sense. But you, O lovely Maid! never make use of these affected Arts; but without being too brisk or too severe, too silent or too talkative, you inspire in all your Hearers a Joy, and a Respect. Your Soul is an Enemy to that usual Vice of your Sex, of using little Arguments against the Fair; or, by a Word or Jest, making your self and Hearers pleasant at the expence of the Fame of others. Your Heart is an Enemy to all Passions, but that of Love. And this is one of your noble Maxims, _That every one ought to love, in some part of his Life; and that in a Heart truly brave, Love is without Folly: That Wisdom is a Friend to Love, and Love to perfect Wisdom._ Since these Maxims are your own, do not, O charming _Iris_! resist that noble Passion: and since _Damon_ is the most tender of Lovers, answer his Passion with a noble Ardour. Your Prudence never fails in the Choice of your Friends; and in chusing so well your Lover, you will stand an eternal Precedent to all unreasonable Fair Ones. _O thou that dost excel in Wit and Youth!_ _Be still a Precedent for Love and Truth._ _Let the dull World say what it will,_ _A noble Flame’s unblameable._ _Where a fine Sent’ment and soft Passion rules,_ _They scorn the Censure of the Fools._ _Yield,_ Iris, _then; Oh, yield to Love!_ _Redeem your dying Slave from Pain;_ _The World your Conduct must approve:_ _Your Prudence never acts in vain._ _The GOODNESS and COMPLAISANCE of_ IRIS.