None think the great unhappy, but the great.
A friend is worth all hazards we can run.
To frown at pleasure, and to smile in pain.
The booby father craves a booby son, And by Heaven's blessing thinks himself undone.
A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.
Let no man trust the first false step of guilt; it hangs upon a precipice, whose steep descent in last perdition ends.