approve Your Prudence never acts in vain The Goodness and Complaisance of Iris. 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 establish'd 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 easie 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 though sometimes you can be a little disturb'd yet through 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 the 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 'T is therefore Damon 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 e'ry God in vain I pray In e'ry Grove repeat my Moans Still Iris Charms are all my Sorrows Themes They pain me Waking and they wreck 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. YOU are deceiv'd in me fair Iris if you take me for one of those ordinary Glasses that represent the Beauty only of the Body I remark to you also the Beauties of the Soul And all about you declares yours the finest that ever was formed that you have a Wit that surprizes and is always new 'T is none of those that loses its Lustre when one considers it the more we examine yours the more adorable we find it You say nothing that is not at once agreeable and solid 't is always quick and ready without Impertinence that little Vanity of the Fair who when they know they have Wit rarely manage it so as not to abound in Talking and think that all they say must please because luckily they sometimes chance to do so But Iris never speaks but 't is of use and gives a Pleasure to all that hears her She has the perfect Art of penetrating even the most secret Thoughts How often have you known without being told all that has past in Damon's Heart For all great Wits are Prophets too Tell me Oh tell me Charming Prophetess For you alone can tell my Love's Success The Lines in my dejected Face I fear will lead you to no kind Result It is your own that you must trace Those of your Heart you must consult 'T is there my Fortune I must learn And all that Damon does concern I tell you that I love a Maid As bright as Heav'n of Angel-hue The softest Nature ever made Whom I with Sighs and Vows pursue Oh tell me charming Prophetess Shall I this lovely Maid possess A thousand Rivals do obstruct my Way A thousand Fears they do create They throng about her all the Day Whilst I at awful Distance wait Say will the lovely Maid so fickle prove To give my Rivals Hope as well as Love She has a thousand Charms of Wit With all the Beauty Heav'n e're gave Oh! Let her not make use of it To flatter me into the Slave Oh! Tell me Truth to ease my Pain Say rather I shall die by her Disdain The Modesty of Iris. I Perceive fair Iris you have a Mind to tell me I have entertain'd you too long with a Discourse on yourself I know your Modesty makes this Declaration an offence and you suffer me with Pain to unveil those Treasures you wou'd hide Your Modesty that so commendable a Vertue in the Fair and so peculiar to you is here a little too severe Did I flatter you you shou'd blush Did I seek by praising you to shew an Art of Speaking finely you might chide But O Iris I say nothing but such plain Truths as all the World can witness are so And so far I am from Flattery that I seek no Ornament of Words Why do you take such Care to conceal your Vertues They have too much Lustre not to be seen in spight of all your Modesty Your Wit your Youth and Reason oppose themselves against this dull Obstructer of our Happiness Abate O Iris a little of this Vertue since you have so many other to defend yourself against the Attacks of your Adorers You yourself have the least Opinion of your own Charms And being the only Person in the World that is not in love with 'em you hate to pass whole Hours before your Looking-Glass and to pass your time like most of the idle Fair in dressing and setting off those Beauties which need so little Art You more wise disdain to give those Hours to the Fatigue of Dressing which you know so well how to employ a thousand Ways The Muses have blest you above your Sex and you know how to gain a Conquest with your Pen more absolutely than all the industrious Fair who trust to Dress and Equipage I have a thousand things to tell you more but willingly resign my place to Damon that faithful Lover he will speak more ardently than I For let a Glass use all its Force yet when it speaks its best it speaks but coldly If my Glass O charming Iris have the good Fortune which I cou'd never entirely boast to be believ'd 't will serve at least to convince you I have not been so guilty of Flattery as I have a thousand times been charg'd Since then my Passion is equal to your Beauty without Comparison or End believe O lovely Maid how I sigh in your Absence And be perswaded to lessen my pain and restore me to my Joys for there is no Torment so great as the Absence of a Lover from his Mistress of which this is the Idea The Effects of Absence from what we love Thou one continu'd Sigh all over Pain Eternal Wish but wish alas in vain Thou languishing impatient Hoper on A busie Toiler and yet still undone A breaking Glimpse of distant Day Inticing on and leading more astray Thou Joy in Prospect future Bliss extream But ne're to be possest but in á Dream Thou fab'lous Goddess which the ravish'd Boy In happy Slumbers proudly did enjoy But waking found an Airy Cloud he prest His Arms came empty to his panting Breast Thou Shade that only haunts the Soul by Night And when thou shou'dst inform thou fly'st the Sight Thou false Idea of the thinking Brain That labours for the charming Form in vain Which if by Chance it catch thou' rt lost again The End of the Looking-Glass
THE LADY's Looking-Glass TO DRESS Herself by OR THE Whole ART OF CHARMING By Mrs. BEHN LONDON Printed by W. Onley for S. Briscoe 1697. THE Lady's Looking-Glass TO DRESS Herself by OR THE ART of Charming HOW long O charming Iris shall I speak in vain of your adorable Beauty You have been just and believe I love you with a Passion perfectly tender and extream and yet you will not allow your Charms to be infinite You must either accuse my Flames to be unreasonable and that my Eyes and Heart are false Judges of Wit and Beauty or allow that you are the most perfect of your Sex But instead of that you always accuse of me Flattery when I speak of your infinite Merit and when I refer you to your Glass you tell me that flatters as well as Damon though one wou'd imagine that shou'd be a good Witness for the Truth of what I say and undeceive you of the Opinion of my Injustice Look and confirm yourself that nothing can equal your Perfections All the World says it and you must doubt it no longer O Iris Will you dispute against the whole World But since you have so long distrusted your own Glass I have here presented you with one which I know is very true and having been made for you only can serve only you All other Glasses present all Objects but this reflects only Iris whenever you consult it it will convince you and tell you how much Right I have done you when I told you you were the fairest Person that ever Nature made When other Beauties look into it it will speak to all the fair Ones but let 'em do what they will 't will say nothing to their Advantage Iris to spare what you call flattery Consult your Glass each Hour of the Day 'T will tell you where your Charms and Beauties lie And where your little wanton Graces play Where Love does revel in your Face and Eyes What Look invites your Slaves and what denies Where all the Loves adorn you with such Care Where dress your Smiles where arm your lovely Eyes Where deck the flowing Tresses of your Hair How cause your Snowy Breasts to fall and rise How this severe Glance makes the Lover die How that more soft gives Immortality Where you shall see what 't is enslaves the Soul Where e'ry Feature e'ry Look combines When the adorning Air o're all the whole To so much Wit and so nice Vertue joyns Where the Belle Taille and Motion still afford Graces to be eternally ador'd But I will be silent now and let your Glass speak THE Lady's Looking-Glass DAmon O charming Iris has given me to you that you may sometimes give your self the Trouble and me the Honour of Consulting me in the great and weighty Affairs of Beauty I am my adorable Mistress a faithful Glass and you ought to believe all I say to you The Shape of IRIS I Must begin with your Shape and tell you without Flattery 't is the finest in the World and gives Love and Admiration to all that see you Pray observe how free and easie it is without Constraint Stiffness or Affectation those mistaken Graces of the Fantastick and the Formal who give themselves Pain to shew their Will to please and whose Dressing makes the greatest part of its Fineness when they are more oblig'd to the Taylor than to Nature who add or diminish as occasion serves to form a Grace where Heaven never gave it And while they remain on this Wreck of Pride they are eternally uneasie without pleasing any Body Iris I have seen a Woman of your Acquaintance who having a greater Opinion of her own Person than any Body else has screw'd her Body into so sine a Form as she calls it that she dares no more stir a Hand lift up an Arm or turn her Head aside than if for the Sin of such a Disorder she were to be turn'd into a Pillar of Salt the less stiff and fix'd Statue of the two Nay she dares not speak or smile lest she shou'd put her Face out of that order she had set it in her Glass when she last look'd on herself And is all over such a Lady Nice excepting in her Conversation that ever made a ridiculous Figure And there are many Ladies more but too much tainted with that nauseous Formality that old-fashion'd Vice But Iris the charming the all-perfect Iris has nothing in her whole Form that is not free natural and easie and whose every Motion cannot please extreamly and which has not given Damon a thousand Rivals Damon the Young the Am'rous and the True Who sighs incessantly for you Whose whole Delight now you are gone Is to retire to Shades alone And to the Eccho's make his Moan By purling Streams the wishing Youth is laid Still sighing Iris lovely charming Maid See in thy Absence how thy Lover dies While to his Sighs the Eccho still replies Then with the Stream he holds Discourse O thou that bend'st thy liquid force To lovely Tames upon whose Shore The Maid resides whom I adore My Tears of Love upon thy Surface bear And if upon thy Banks thou seest my Fair In all thy sostest Murmurs sing From Damon I this Present bring My e'ery Curl contains a Tear Then at her Feet thy Tribute pay But haste O happy Stream away Lest charm'd too much thou shoud'st for ever stay And thou O gentle murm'ring Breeze That plays in Air and wantons with the Trees On thy young Wings where gilded Sun-beams play To Iris my soft Sighs convey Still as they rise each Minute of the Day But whisper gently in her Ear Let not the ruder Winds thy Message hear Nor ruffle one dear Curl of her bright Hair Oh! touch her Cheeks with sacred Reverence And stay not gazing on her lovely Eye But if thou bear'st her Rosie Breath from thence 'T is Incense of that Excellence That as thou mount'st 't will perfume all the Skies IRIS 's Complexion SAY what you will I am confident if you will confess your Heart you are every time you view yourself in me surpriz'd at the Beauty of your Complexion and will secretly own you never saw any thing so fair I am not the first Glass by a thousand that has assur'd you of this If you will not believe me ask Damon he tells it you every Day but that Truth from him offends you and because he loves too much you think his Judgment too little and since this is so perfect that must be defective But 't is most certain your Complexion is infinitely fine your Skin soft and smooth as polisht Wax or Ivory extreamly white and clear though if any Body speaks but of your Beauty an agreeable Blush casts itself all over your Face and gives you a thousand new Graces And then two Flowers newly born Shine in your Heav'nly Face The Rose that blushes in the Morn Usurps the Lilly's place Sometimes the Lilly does prevail And makes the gen'rous Crimson
heave with every Breath as if they disdain'd to be confin'd to a Covering and repel the malicious Cloud that wou'd obscure their Brightness Fain I wou'd have leave to tell The Charms that on your Bosom dwell Describe it like some flow'ry Field That does ten thousand Pleasures yield A thousand gliding Springs and Groves All Receptacles for Loves But Oh! what Iris hides must be Ever sacred kept by mâ— The Arms and Hands of IRIS I Shall not be put to much trouble to shew you your Hands and Arms because you may view them without my help and you are very unjust if you have not admir'd 'em a Thousand times The beautiful Colour and Proportion of your Arm is unimitable and your Hand is dazling fine small and plump long-pointed Fingers delicately turn'd dimpl'd on the Snowy out-side but adorn'd within with Rose all over the soft Palm O Iris Nothing equals your fair Hand that Hand of which Love so often makes such use to draw his Bow when he wou'd send the Arrow home with more success and which irresistibly wounds those who possibly have not yet seen your Eyes And when you have been veil'd that lovely Hand has gain'd you a thousand Adorers And I have heard Damon say Without the Aid of more Beauties that alone had been sufficient to have made an absolute Conquest o'er his Soul And he has often vow'd It never touch'd him but it made his Blood run with little irregular Motions in his Veins his Breath beat short and double his Blushes rise and his very Soul dance Oh! how the Hand the Lover ought to prize 'Bove any one peculiar Grace While he is dying for the Eyes And doting on the lovely Face The Unconsid'ring little knows How much he to this Beauty owes That when the Lover absent is Informs him of his Mistress Heart 'T is that which gives him all his Bliss When dear Love-Secrets 't will impart That plights the Faith the Maid bestows And that confirms the tim'rous Vows 'T is that betrays the Tenderness Which the too bashful Tongue denies 'T is that that does the Heart confess And spares the Language of the Eyes 'T is that which Treasures gives so vast Ev'n Iris 't will to Damon give at last The Grace and Air of IRIS 'T IS I alone O charming Maid that can shew you that noble part of your Beauty That generous Air that adorns all your lovely Person and renders every Motion and Action perfectly adorable With what a Grace you walk How free how easie and how unaffected See how you move for only here you can see it Damon has told you a thousand times that never any Mortal had so glorious an Air but he cou'd not half describe it nor wou'd you credit even what he said but with a careless Smile pass it off for the Flattery of a Lover But here behold and be convinc'd and know no part of your Beauty can charm more than this O Iris confess Love has adorn'd you with all his Art and Care Your Beauties are the Themes of all the Muses who tell you in daily Songs that the Graces themselves have not more than Iris. And one may truly say that you alone know how to joyn the Ornaments and Dress with Beauty and you are still adorn'd as if that Shape and Air had a peculiar Art to make all things appear gay and fine Oh how well drest you are How every thing becomes you Never singular never gawdy but always suiting with your Quality Oh how that Negligence becomes your Air That careless flowing of your Hair That plays about with wanton Grace With every Motion of your Face Disdaining all that dull Formality That dares not move the Lip or Eye But at some fancy'd Grace's cost And think with it at least a Lover lost But the unlucky Minute to reclaim And ease the Coquet of her Pain The Pocket-Glass adjusts the Face again Re-sets the Mouth and languishes the Eyes And thinks the Spark that ogles that way dies Of Iris learn O ye mistaken Fair To dress your Face your Smiles your Air. Let easie Nature all the Bus'ness do She can the softer Graces shew Which Art but turns to Ridicule And where there 's none serves but to shew the Fool. In Iris you all Graces find Charms without Art a Motion unconfin'd Without Constraint she smiles she looks she talks And without Affectation moves and walks Beauties so perfect ne'er were seen O ye mistaken Fair Dress ye by Iris Mien The Discretion of IRIS 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 damned to Malice that does not with Adoration confess that you O charming Maid have an equal Portion of all the Braveries and Vertues 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 surprising your Beauty or your Discretion But we dispute in vain on that excellent Subject for after all 't is determin'd that the two Charms are equal 'T is 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 Subtilty and florid Talking to make the outside of the Argument appear fine and leave the inside wholly mis-understood Who runs away with Words and never thinks of Sence 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 aspire 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 make 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 all your 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 President to all unreasonable fair Ones O thou that dost excel in Wit and Youth Be still a President 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