A friend who holds a mirror to my face,
And, hiding none, is not afraid to trace
My faults, my smallest blemishes, within;
Who friendly warns, reproves me if I sin –
Although it seems not so, he is my friend.
But he who, ever flattering, gives me praise,
Who ne’er rebukes nor censures, nor delays
To come with eagerness and grasp my hand,
And pardon me, ere pardon I demand –
He is my enemy, although he seem my friend.