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Friendship's an abstract of this noble flame, 'Tis love refined and purged from all its dross, The next to angel's love, if not the same, As strong as passion is, though not so gross: It antedates a glad eternity And is an heaven in epitome.
— Katherine Philips
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I did but see him and he disappeared, I did but pluck the rose-bud and it fell, A sorrow unforeseen and scarcely feared, For ill can mortals their afflictions spell.
Essential honour must be in a friend, Not such as every breath fans to and fro; But born within, is its own judge and end, And dares not sin, though sure that none should know. Where friendship's spoke, honesty's understood; For none can be a friend that is not good.
Religion, which true policy befriends, Design'd by God to serve man's noblest ends, Is by that old deceiver's subtle play Made the chief party in its own decay, And meets the eagle's destiny, whose breast Felt the same shaft which his own feathers drest.
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