To Artemisia. – ’Tis to her we sing,
For her once more we touch the founding string.
’Tis not to Cythera’s reign nor Cupid’s fires,
But sacred Friendship that our muse inspires.
A theme that suits Aemilia’s pleasing tongue:
So to the fair ones I devote my song.
The wise will seldom credit all they hear,
Though saucy wits should tell thee with a sneer,
That women’s friendships, like a certain fly,
Are hatched i’the morning and at ev’ning die. [10]
’Tis true, our sex has been from early time
A constant topic for satiric rhyme:
Nor without reason – since we’re often found
Or lost in passion, or in pleasures drowned:
And the fierce winds that bid the ocean roll,
Are less inconstant than a woman’s soul:
Yet some there are that keep the mod’rate way,
Can think an hour, and be calm a day:
Who ne’er were known to start into a flame,
Turn pale or tremble at a losing game, [20]
Run Chloe’s shape or Delia’s features down,
Or change complexion at Celinda’s gown:
But still serene, compassionate and kind,
Walk through life’s circuit with an equal mind.
Of all companions I would choose to shun
Such, whose blunt truths are like a bursting gun,
Who in a breath count all your follies o’er,
And close their lectures with a mirthful roar:
But reason here will prove the safest guide,
Extremes are dang’rous placed on either side. [30]
A friend too soft will hardly prove sincere;
The wit’s inconstant, and the learn’d severe.
Good breeding, wit, and learning, all conspire
To charm mankind and make the world admire,
Yet in a friend but serve an under part:
The main ingredient is an honest heart […]