Pale death approaches with equal step, and knocks indiscriminately at the door of teh cottage, and the portals of the palace.
He tosses aside his paint-pots and his words a foot and a half long.
Lightning strikes the tops of the mountains.
Joking apart, now let us be serious.
When your throat is parched with thirst, do you desire a cup of gold?
Avoid greatness in a cottage there may be more real happiness than kings or their favourites enjoy.