But while society I do prescribe, I mean not those of your own sighing tribe: For nothing sure can so injurious be To one in love, as lovers company. There is a sort of dangerous infection in it; and, indeed,
							nothing is more certain, than that which is bad is more communicated to
							another than that which is good; which the poet justifies by similes, as
							he is wont to do. Juvenal speakes of this infection in the same sense
							that Ovid does. A patient, who my orders did obey, And to his cure was in a hopeful way, By keeping lovers' company one night, Relaps'd beyond my skill to set him right. Such dang'rous neighbourhood you must avoid: A flock's by one contagious sheep destroy'd. If health you'd keep shun those who are unsound; By looking on sore eyes, our own we wound; Dry lands are oft by neighb'ring rivers drown'd. Love's pest allows no safety but in flight; And the infected, to infect delight. Another, who quite through his course had gone, By living near his mistress was undone. Rashly his strength, ere well confirm'd, he tries, Too weak to stand th' encounter of her eyes. She meets, and conquers with one single view, And all his fresh-skin'd wounds gush forth anew. To save your house from neighb'ring fire is hard, Distance from danger is the surest guard. Avoid your mistress' walks, and e'en forbear The civil offices you paid to her. Change all your measures, new affairs pursue; Find out, if possible, a world that's new. A table spread in view gives appetite; To see a gushing rill does thirst excite. To leap their females in a neighb'ring plain, Your bull will break his fence, your steed his rein. Nor is't enough to quit the nymph, but you Must to her friends and kindred bid adieu; Must renounce all sort ot commerce with every thing that
							belongs to her; which is one of the best remedies against so contagious
							a distemper, but hard to be put in practice. Nor to your sight admit the page or maid, By whom the tender billet doux's convey'd. And, though impatient, stifle your desire; Nor of her health, nor what she does enquire. E'en you who powerful reasons can assign, That 'twas ill-treatment made your love decline, Forbear complaints, and no invectives make; By scornful silence, best revenge you'll take. Bury your passion in a speechless grave, Desist from love, but do not say you have. If over much you boast, the symptom's ill; Who always cries, "I've done with love," loves still. To make sure work, quench leisurely the fire; He's safe, who can by just degrees retire. A torrent's swift, a stream does gently glide, But that's a short, and this a lasting tide; That love must irrecoverably decay, Which does by atoms waste itself away. Yet, e'en humanity must needs abhor, That you should hate the nymph you did adore For he discovers a mere brutal mind, Whose love to enmity the way can find. A gentle cure is what I recommend; For he whose passion can in hatred end, As soon may to his first desire return; His fire does still beneath the embers burn. To see two lovers at outragious odds, Is scandal and offence to men and gods. Many have rail'd, and yet been reconcil'd, That minute they their mistresses revil'd. Others I've known, who parting without strife, Have fairly taken leave-but ta'en for life. A nymph but lately passing in her chair, Met with her lover (I by chance was there); He storm'd, and with reproaches fill'd the air. At last, " Come forth thou harlot, come," he cried She came; at sight of her his tongue was tied; The writings in his hand he flings away, Runs to her arms, and has but pow'r to say, "You've conquer'd, and no more I'll disobey." Let her the presents you have sent retain And to a less prefer the greater gain. Weigh the advantage by that loss you reap, And think the purchase of your freedom cheap. If to her presence you by chance are driven, Straight recollect the precepts I have given. Since with your Amazon you must
						engage, To whet your courage muster all your rage. Think on your rival in her chamber kept, While you, excluded, on her threshold slept. How falsely she has treated you; and then More falsely sworn to draw you in again. Study no dress when she is to be seen, But wear your garments careless as your mein. Or, if the sparkish mode your fancy seize, Take care it be some other nymph to please. What most retards your cure, I'll now reveal; And to your own experience dare appeal; Hoping to be at last belov'd, (though vain Those hopes) we linger, and indulge our pain. T' our own defects, through self-opinion, blind, We wonder how the fair can be unkind. Ne'er think that what she says or swears is true; She fears the gods no more than she fears you. Nor trust her tears, though plenteous tears distil; Their eyes are disciplin'd to weep at will. With various arts they storm a lover's mind, Like some bleak rock expos'd to waves and wind. Nourish the just resentments in your heart, But ne'er declare the reason why you part. For tax'd with crimes, she'll plead her innocence; And you'll too much incline to her defence. Contract th' indictment; spinning out the charge, But shows you'd have her clear herself at large. Nor yet abruptly should you leave the fair And, like Ulysses, drive them to despair: He not only abandoned Circe, but Calypso queen of Ogygia, who
							had been as kind to him as Circe. To no such violent methods I'll advise, Nor aid a lover while his mistress dies. I mean not Cupid's purple wings to clip, Nor break his bow, or feather'd arrows strip. The counsels that I gave are just and true, Do you as faithfully my rules pursue. Phoebus, to thee once more for aid I run; Assist me, as thou hast already done. He comes, he comes, he'll instantly appear, His quiver, and his sounding harp I hear, The same Mercury gave him, with which he vanquished Marsyas,
							who challenged him to a trial of skill in music, for which he was a
							little too severely punished. Apollo himself repenting of it, is said to
							break the strings of his lyre, and, according to Diodorus, would not for
							a log time make use of it. Both signs most certain that the god is near. Compare your bastard scarlet with the right, The Lacedaemonian with the Tyrian; for the dye of
							Amyclea near Lacedaemon was
							inferior to that of Tyre , as
							Pliny witnesses. The difference will appear, though both are bright. Your charmer so by first rate beauties place, And her defects by brighter lustre trace. Pallas was tall and graceful, sternly fair, And Juno carried a majestic air; Singly they pleas'd, and by each other charm'd, But both by Venus' presence were disarm'd. Alluding to the vision of those three goddesses by Paris on Mount Ida . Nor manhood yet must you so far disgrace As to become the vassal of a face, Nor to mere beauty your devotion pay; Her breeding, humor, and her manners weigh; But in the scale of an impartial mind, Or inclination will your judgment blind. What more I have to say will lie compris'd In little room, but must not be despis'd. Those short receipts have cures on many done, And of that number, I myself am one. The letters sent you when your nymph was kind, Revise not, for they'll shake your constant mind: But say, when you commit them to the fire, "Be this the fun'ral pile of my desire; Perish, my love, in this just flame expire." Althaea burnt the fatal brand, and knew, The brand consuming, her own son she slew. Althaea the wife of Oeneus king of Calydonia, and mother of
							Meleager, who hearing all her other sons were killed in a sedition, in a
							fit of fury flung the brand into the fire upon which the fate of
							Meleager depended, and then stabbed or hanged herself. Can you whose kindness had a worse return Repine, a few deceitful words to burn! No: make a total sacrifice, nor spare The very seal that does her image bear. From all such places too you must remove, As ever have been conscious to your love. You'll say, (and grieve to think those joys are fled) This was th' apartment, this the happy bed! The dear remembrance will renew desire, And to fresh blaze blow up the sleeping fire. The Greeks could wish t' have shun'd th' Eubaean coast, Nauplius king of Euboea and Seriphas, the father of Palamedes, to
							revenge the death of his son, set up a watch-light upon a promontory,
							which the Greeks being overtaken in a storm, took for a signal of a safe
							landing place, and so fell in among the rocks, as Nauplius intended; but
							finding Ulysses had escaped, in
							a rage he threw himself into the sea. These light are now used to show
							where these rocks lie, and not where there are none. And vengeful fire by which their fleet was lost. Wise sailors tack, when Scylla's rock they spy; Scylla daughter of Nisus. She was changed into a
							rock near Charybdis, in the Sicilian straits: or, as others say, in the
							straits of Megara : but it is
							controverted whether she was the same who was metamorphosed into a rock
							or not. There were two Scyllas, and the poets confounded one with
							another. It is said that Scylla, daughter of Nisus, falling in love with
							Minos, who had besieged Megara ,
							of which her father was king, she cut off that lock of hair upon which
							his strength and fortune depended; and the city being taken, she was
							turned into an osprey. Minos afterwards slighting Scylla, she died of
							despair, and was meatamorphosed into a lark. The other Scylla was the
							daughter of Phareus, who, according to the fable, was changed into a
							monster whose lower parts were dogs which never ceased barking. But we
							see the greatesst of the ancient poets confounded the one fable with the
							other. So you should from your mistress' dwelling fly, There stands the rock, on which you split before, Imagine there you hear Charybdis roar. Servius tells us she was a gluttonous woman, who having stolen
							Hercules' oxen, was thunderstruck by Jupiter and thrown headlong into the sea, where she
							keeps still her natural disposition of devouring all things. This rock
							lies over against Zanclea in Sicily , at the entrance of the straits of Messina , from whence she is called
							Zanclaea. Strabo writes the rock is prodigiously hollow. But chance itself sometimes may stand your friend, And give your griefs an unexpected end. Had Phaedra's wealth to poverty declin'd. She never for Hippolitus had pin'd. Or were Medea born a rural maid, No faithless Jason had implor'd her aid. But love in pamper'd palaces is bred, By pleasure and luxurious riches fed. Not Hecale or Irus could arrive Hecale was a poor old woman who entertained Theseus at her cottage in
							one of his enterprises; and Irus one of Penelope's suitors, who being
							extremely poor, was almost starved, and so weak that Ulysses knocked him
							on the head with his fist. Irus's poverty occasioned the proverb
								 Iro pauperior . He iks also spoken
							of in the epistle from Penelope to Ulysses ( Ep.
								1.95 ). At Hymen's joys, though long they did survive, For both were poor: and Cupid still shoots high, His shafts above the humble cottage fly. Yet so severe a cure I can't approve, Or bid you starve yourself, to starve your love. But ne'er frequent the wanton theatre, Where vain desires in all their pomp appear; From music, dancing, and an am'rous part, Meaning that of the Mimes, where the postures were very much
							debauched, and the sight of them dangerous to manners. Perform'd to th' life, how can you guard your heart? Against myself I frank confession make; Into your hands no am'rous poet take, Soft poems, elegies of love, and pleasant songs, revive
							amorous fancies. and should be avoided. Ovid names the very poets whom
							he advised the lovers to read in his Art of Love, as Callimachus,
							Philetas, Tibullus, Propertius, and Gallus; and for the same season that
							they were good then, are bad now. The moderns may be allowed to read
							them, as there are several historical events to be met with in them, but
							not to learn their sentiments. Whose Syren muses draw the list'ning throng, And charm them into ruin by their song. Callimachus first from your sight remove. Banish Philetas next; they're friends to love. How oft have Sappho's odes set me one fire! Who can contain, that hears Anacreon's lyre? Who reads Tibullus must his passion feel; Propertius can dissolve a heart of steel: Nor Gallus fails the coldest breast to warm; And e'en my muse has found the art to charm. But if Apollo, who conducts my song, Secure me in this point from guessing wrong, The pain with which most sensibly you're griev'd, Is on th' account of jealousy conceiv'd. No fear of rivals must your heart torment: For true, or false, yet for your own content, At least persuade yourself that you have none, And that the harmless creature sleeps alone. Orestes ne'er could find his nymph had charms, Till he beheld her in another's arms. Why, Menelaus, dost thou now take on? In Crete you long could sauntering
						stay alone; Your Helen's absence ne'er disturb'd your rest: No sooner fled she with her Trojan guest, The royal cuckold raves, and he must make A ten years' war, to fetch the harlot back. 'Twas on this score the fierce Achilles wept; With Agamemnon his Briseis slept. Ovid calls him the son of Plisthenes; but indeed, neither Agamemnon nor
							Menelaus were the sons of Atreus, though they are so often called
							Atrides; both being begot by Plisthenes, brother of Atreus and Thyestes,
							who dying before his two elder brothers, left his two sons in charge
							with Atreus, who bred them up as carefully as if they had been his own
							children; for which reason, as Micyllus observees, they always passed
							for such. Good cause to weep, the maiden toy was got, Or great Alcides was a sov'reign sot. His game of love were Ovid to have play'd, The poet had the better hero made. At last, with gifts he did the loss restore, And that she was untouch'd profoundly swore, Swore by his sceptre; — nor can that seem odd; He knew his sceptre but a wooden god. He means that of Agamemnon which was made by Vulcan, who
							presented it to Jupiter , and he
							gave it to Mercury, Mercury to Pelops, and he to Atreus, who left it at
							his death to Thyestes, and Thyestes gave it to Agamemnon, to show his
							royal power in Argos .