Acquaintance I would have, but when it depends; not on number, but the choice of friends.
Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.
This only grant me, that my means may lie, too low for envy, for contempt to high.
May I a small house and large garden have; And a few friends, And many books, both true.
Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!
Curiosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.