To Phylocles, inviting him to Friendship.


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Best of thy Sex! if Sacred Friendship can
Dwell in the Bosom of inconstant Man;
As cold, and clear as Ice, as Snow unstained,
With Love's loose Crimes unsullied, unprofaned.
Or you a Woman, with that Name dare trust,
And think to Friendship's Ties, we can be just;
In a strict League, together we'll combine,
And Friendship's bright Example shine.
We will forget the Difference of Sex,
Nor shall the World's rude Censure us Perplex:
Think Me all Man: my Soul is Masculine,
And Capable of as great Things as Thine.
I can be Gen'rous, Just, and Brave,
Secret, and Silent, as the Grave;
And if I cannot yield Relief,
I'll Sympathize in all thy Grief.
I will not have a Thought from thee I'll hide,
In all my Actions, Thou shalt be my Guide;
In every Joy of mine, Thou shalt have share,
And I will bear a part in all thy Care.
Why do I vainly Talk of what we'll do?
We'll mix our Souls, you shall be Me, I You;
And both so one, it shall be hard to say,
Which is Phylocles, which Ephelia.
Our Ties shall be strong as the Chains of Fate,
Conqu'rors, and Kings our Joys shall Emulate;
Forgotten Friendship, held at first Divine,
T'its native Purity we will refine.

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