His affections are both united and divided; united to him he loveth, divided betwixt another and himself; and his one heart is so parted, that whilst he has some his friend hath all.  His choice is led by virtue, or by the best of virtues, religion; not by gain, not by pleasure; yet not without respect of equal condition, of disposition not unlike; which, once made, admits of no change, except he whom he loveth be changed quite from himself; nor that suddenly, but after long expectation.  Extremity doth but fasten him, whilst he, like a well-wrought vault, lies the stronger, by how much more weight he bears.  When necessity calls him to it, he can be a servant to his equal, with the same will wherewith he can command his inferior; and though he rise to honour, forgets not his familiarity, nor suffers inequality of estate to work strangeness of countenance; on the other side, he lifts up his friend to advancement with a willing hand, without envy, without dissimulation.  When his mate is dead, he accounts himself but half alive; then his love, not dissolved by death, derives itself to those orphans which never knew the price of their father; they become the heirs of his affection, and the burden of his cares.  He embraces a free community of all things, save those which either honesty reserves proper, or nature; and hates to enjoy that which would do his friend more good.  His charity serves to cloak noted infirmities, not by untruth, not by flattery, but by discreet secrecy; neither is he more favourable in concealment, than round in his private reprehensions; and when another’s simple fidelity shows itself in his reproof, he loves his monitor so much the more, by how much more he smarteth.  His bosom is his friend’s closet, where he may safely lay up his complaints, his doubts, his cares; and look how he leaves, so he finds them; save for some addition of seasonable counsel for redress.  If some unhappy suggestion shall either disjoint his affection or break it, it soon knits again, and grows the stronger by that stress.  He is so sensible of another’s injuries, that when his friend is stricken he cries out and equally smarteth untouched, as one affected not with sympathy, but with a real feeling of pain:  and in what mischief may be prevented, he interposeth his aid, and offers to redeem his friend with himself.  No hour can be unseasonable, no business difficult, nor pain grievous in condition of his ease:  and what either he doth or suffers, he neither cares nor desires to have known, lest he should seem to look for thanks.  If he can therefore steal the performance of a good office unseen, the conscience of his faithfulness herein is so much sweeter as it is more secret.  In favours done, his memory is frail; in benefits received, eternal:  he scorneth either to regard recompense or not to offer it.  He is the comfort of miseries, the guide of difficulties, the joy of life, the treasure of earth, and no other than a good angel clothed in flesh.