Who but your Lovers, fair _Iris_! doubts but you are the most complaisant Person in the World; and that with so much Sweetness you oblige all, that you command in yielding: And as you gain the Heart of both Sexes, with the Affability of your noble Temper; so all are proud and vain of obliging you. And, _Iris_, you may live assur’d, that your Empire is eternally established by your Beauty and your Goodness: Your Power is confirm’d, and you grow in Strength every Minute: Your Goodness gets you Friends, and your Beauty Lovers. This Goodness is not one of those, whose Folly renders it easy to every Desirer; but a pure Effect of the Generosity of your Soul; such as Prudence alone manages, according to the Merit of the Person to whom it is extended; and those whom you esteem, receive the sweet Marks of it, and only your Lovers complain; yet even then you charm. And tho’ sometimes you can be a little disturb’d, yet thro’ your Anger your Goodness shines; and you are but too much afraid, that that may bear a false Interpretation: For oftentimes Scandal makes that pass for an Effect of Love, which is purely that of Complaisance. Never had any body more Tenderness for their Friends, than _Iris_: Their Presence gives her Joy, their Absence Trouble; and when she cannot see them, she finds no Pleasure like speaking of them obligingly. Friendship reigns in your Heart, and Sincerity on your Tongue. Your Friendship is so strong, so constant, and so tender, that it charms, pleases, and satisfies all, that are not your Adorers. _Damon_ therefore is excusable, if he be not contented with your noble Friendship alone; for he is the most tender of that Number. _No! give me all, th’ impatient Lover cries;_ _Without your Soul I cannot live:_ _Dull Friendship cannot mine suffice,_ _That dies for all you have to give._ _The Smiles, the Vows, the Heart must all be mine;_ _I cannot spare one Thought, or Wish of thine._ _I sigh, I languish all the Day;_ _Each Minute ushers in my Groans:_ _To ev’ry God in vain I pray;_ _In ev’ry Grove repeat my Moans._ _Still_ Iris’ _Charms are all my Sorrows Themes!_ _They pain me waking, and they rack in Dreams._ _Return, fair_ Iris! _Oh, return!_ _Lest sighing long your Slave destroys._ _I wish, I rave, I faint, I burn;_ _Restore me quickly all my Joys:_ _Your Mercy else will come too late;_ _Distance in Love more cruel is than Hate._ _The WIT of_ IRIS.