And if I cannot yield relief,
I’ll sympathise 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.