Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.

All this world's noise appears to me a dull, ill-acted comedy!

Does not the passage of Moses and the Israelites into the Holy Land yield incomparably more poetic variety than the voyages of Ulysses or Aeneas?

Hope! fortune's cheating lottery; when for one prize an hundred blanks there be!

Acquaintance I would have, but when it depends; not on number, but the choice of friends.

Fill the bowl with rosy wine, around our temples roses twine, And let us cheerfully awhile, like wine and roses, smile.

This only grant me, that my means may lie, too low for envy, for contempt to high.