FIVE o'CLOCK.
Quarrels in Dreams.
I perceive you are not able to suffer all this Injustice, nor can I permit it any longer: and tho' you commit no Crime yourself, yet you believe in this Dream, that I complain of the Injuries you do my Fame; and that I am extreamely angry with a Jealousy so prejudicial to my Honour. Upon this belief you accuse me of Weakness; you resolve to see me no more, and are making a thousand feeble Vows against Love. You esteem me as a false one, and resolve to cease loving the vain Coquet, and will say to me, as a certain Friend of yours said to his false Mistress:
The Inconstant.
Tho', Silvia, you are very fair,
Yet disagreeable to me;
And since you so inconstant are,
Your Beauty's damn'd with Levity.
Your Wit, your most offensive Arms,
For want of Judgment, wants its Charms.
To every Lover that is new,
All new and charming you surprize;
But when your fickle Mind they view,
They shun the danger of your Eyes.
Should you a Miracle of Beauty show,
Yet you're inconstant, and will still be so.
'Tis thus you will think of me: And in fine, Damon, during this Dream, we are in perpetual State of War.
Thus both resolve to break their Chain,
And think to do't without much Pain,
But Oh! alas! we strive in vain.
For Lovers, of themselves, can nothing do;
There must be the Consent of two:
You give it me, and I must give it you.
And if we shall never be free, till we acquit one another, this Tye between you and I, Damon, is likely to last as long as we live; therefore in vain you endeavour, but can never attain your End; and in conclusion you will say, in thinking of me:
Oh! how at ease my Heart would live,
Could I renounce this Fugitive;
This dear, but false, attracting Maid,
That has her Vows and Faith betray'd!
Reason would have it so, but Love
Dares not the dang'rous Tryal prove.
Do not be angry then, for this afflicting Hour is drawing to an end, and you ought not to despair of coming into my absolute Favour again,
Then do not let your murm'ring Heart,
Against my Int'rest, take your part.
The Feud was rais'd by Dreams, all false and vain,
And the next Sleep shall reconcile again.