That life might be more comfortable yet,
  And all my joys resin’d, sincere, and great;
  I’d chuse two friends, whose company would be
  A great advance to my felicity. 
  Well born, of humour suited to my own;
  Discreet, and men, as well as books, have known. 
  Brave, gen’rous, witty, and exactly free
  From loose behaviour, or formality. 
  Airy, and prudent, merry, but not light;
  Quick in discerning, and in judging right. 
  Secret they should be, faithful to their trust;
  In reas’ning cool, strong, temperate, and just. 
  Obliging, open, without huffing, brave,
  Brisk in gay talking, and in sober, grave. 
  Close in dispute, but not tenacious; try’d
  By solid reason, and let that decide. 
  Not prone to lust, revenge, or envious hate;
  Nor busy medlers with intrigues of state. 
  Strangers to slander, and sworn foes to spight: 
  Not quarrelsome, but stout enough to fight. 
  Loyal, and pious, friends to Caesar, true
  As dying martyrs, to their Maker too. 
  In their society I could not miss
  A permanent, sincere, substantial bliss.

    Would bounteous Heav’n once more indulge; I’d chuse
  (For who would so much satisfaction, lose,
  As witty nymphs in conversation, give)
  Near some obliging, modest fair to live;
  For there’s that sweetness in a female mind,
  Which in a man’s we cannot hope to find: 
  That by a secret, but a pow’rful art,
  Winds up the springs of life, and does impart
  Fresh vital heat, to the transported heart.

    I’d have her reason all her passions sway;
  Easy in company, in private gay: 
  Coy to a fop, to the deserving free,
  Still constant to herself, and just to me. 
  A soul she should have, for great actions fit;
  Prudence and wisdom to direct her wit: 
  Courage to look bold danger in the face,
  No fear, but only to be proud, or base: 
  Quick to advise, by an emergence prest,
  To give good counsel, or to take the best. 
  I’d have th’ expression of her thoughts be such
  She might not seem reserv’d, nor talk too much. 
  That shew a want of judgment and of sense: 
  More than enough is but impertinence. 
  Her conduct regular, her mirth resin’d,
  Civil to strangers to her neighbours kind,
  Averte to vanity, revenge, and pride,
  In all the methods of deceit untry’d. 
  So faithful to her friend, and good to all,
  No censure might upon her actions fall: 
  Then would e’en envy be compell’d to say,
  She goes the least of woman kind astray.

    To this fair creature I’d sometimes retire,
  Her conversation would new joys inspire;
  Give life an edge so keen, no surly care
  Would venture to assault my soul, or dare
  Near my retreat to hide one secret snare. 
  But so divine, so noble a repast
  I’d seldom, and with moderation taste,
  For highest cordials all their virtue lose
  By a too frequent, and too bold an use: 
  And what would cheer the spirit in distress;
  Ruins our health, when taken to excess.