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But here, Master Apollo, I will tell no lies to my Readers. I do not pretend to have received any Inspiration from you, any more than from Parson Whitefield [6]: And as for Miss Clio [7] and her eight Sisters, I never visit them; nor have I even a Cap-Acquaintance with them. I write from Experience only; and Experto crede Roberto is my Motto. I promise my Readers that I will tell them truth; and if I must, for form sake, invoke any Muse, Venus herself shall be the Person [8]. Sweet Goddess! then be thou present, and smile at my Undertaking. But as for you who cannot smile, I mean you, Prudes, with your screw’d Faces, which may be considered as Signs hung forth before the Door of Virtue, and which perhaps, like other Signs, promise what is not to be found in the House; I desire neither your Favour nor your Company. Good-natur’d Girls[9] are all I write to; and such I promise them may read my Works without a Blush.

Know then, my good Scholar, that art unexperienced in the Art of Love, that this Art consists of three principal Points: First, to select a proper Mistress: Secondly, to win her Affections: And, Thirdly, to preserve your mutual Affection. Of all these therefore we will treat; or, to speak metaphorically, through these three Roads we will drive the Chariot we have undertaken to guide.

First then as to the Choice of a Mistress, to whom you may say, In Thee alone my choice is fixed. Do not believe such a one will fall into your Lap. It will become you to look about sharp for her, and with all your Eyes, I do assure you. And here my first Instruction shall be, where she may most probably be found: For he is a bad Huntsman who would beat about the Royal Exchange for a Hare or a Fox; and not a much better Gunner or Fisherman, who goes a shooting in Somerset-Gardens, or attempts to angle in the magnificent Bason there. As these all know the Places where their Game resort, so must you.

Here then, I by no means advise you to make a long Voyage after a foreign Mistress, as Perseus did, who fetched Andromeda [10] from the Indies; or Paris, whom nothing would serve but a Grecian Mistress. Your own Country, my Friend, will produce Women which the World cannot equal. Beauties are as plenty in the City of London as Apples in[11] Herefordshire, or Grains of Wheat[12] in Hampshire; they are indeed as plenty as Fish in the Sea, or Birds in the Air; nay, the Sky hath not more Stars than London hath Beauties: for England[13], not Cyprus, is the Queen of Love’s favourite Island. Whether you love green Fruit, and which is in the Bud only, or Beauty in its fuller Bloom, or that which is arrived to perfect Ripeness; nay, if nothing but Wisdom or Sagacity will serve your turn, of these too Old England will afford you a sufficient Plenty.

In the pleasant Month of May, repair to Vaux-Hall [14]. Here take your Evening Walk, either round the verdant Scenes, where Nightingales, the only Foreigners who give us their Songs for nothing, warble their most delicious Notes. When your Limbs demand Repose, you may enjoy it in an Alcove, from whence the embattel’d Troops of Venus will pass in review before you. Again, the lofty Dome of Ranelagh invites your Steps. Whether the illustrious Artist took his Model from that House, which as a Reward for their Industry, or for some little regard for their Honey, the benevolent Nature of Man hath conferred on that laborious Animal the Bee: Or whether a more pious Disposition chose this Form from the musical Instrument which summons the whole Parish to Church: Or whether the wondrous Force of Genius, unassisted by any Model, did not of itself strike out this wondrous Architecture; let Kent or Benson inquire. Hither, from every Corner of the Town, repair the loveliest Nymphs. Here too thou may’st survey them, either walking or reposed on Benches at thy Ease. Nor is the Mall to be neglected, where once die brawny Arm of Charles displayed its Strength, and beat his subtle Courtiers at the Play, whence it derives its Name. Nor, Kensington, must thy Gardens be passed by, once the Delight of mighty Caroline, and to the future Age a Monument of her Taste. Here the Charmers draw in sweet Air, and send it forth again in sweeter Sighs, as Tributes to the loved Memory of that mighty Queen. As for the Ring, formerly the Scene of Beauty’s many Triumphs, it is now become a lonely deserted Place: Brilliants and brilliant Eyes no longer sparkle there: No more the heedless Beau falls by the random Glance, or well-pointed Fan. The Ring is now no more: Yet Ruckholt, Marybone and The Wells survive; Places by no means to be neglected by the Gallant: for Beauty may lurk beneath the Straw Hat, and Venus often clothes her lovely Limbs in Stuffs. Nay, the very Courts of Law are not excluded; and the Scenes of Wrangling are sometimes the Scenes of Love. In that Hall where Thames sometimes overflowing, washes the Temple of Venus Lucy, the grave Serjeant becomes a Victim to the Fair; and he who so well knows how to defend others, cannot defend himself. Here the Special Pleader loses all Power to Demurr, and finds beyond his Expectation a novel Assignment spring up in the Cause. Him Venus Lucy [15] laughs at from her neighbouring Temple; for the Council is now become the Client, and squeezes an empty Hand harder than he ever did a full one. But above all, the Theatres are the Place of Sport: for these will be most fruitful to your Wishes. Here you will find one Object to love, and another to toy with. Some, of whom a single Touch will suffice, and others, in whom you will desire a stronger Tenure. Neither do the Ants in pursuit of Grain, or the Bees in quest of Flowers, swarm in greater Numbers than the Beauties to the Theatres. The variety of Charmers here have often distracted my Choice. Hither they come to see, and to be themselves seen; and many are the Love-Bargains here made.