With fame, in just proportion, envy grows.
Some for renown, on scraps of learning dote, And think they grow immortal as they quote.
By all means use some time to be alone.
Body and soul, like peevish man and wife, United jar, and yet are loth to part.
Affliction is a good man's shining time.
Death! great proprietor of all! 'tis thine To tread out empire, and to quench the stars.