Let cheerfulness on happy fortune wait.
A lazy frost, a numbness of the mind.
For all the happiness mankind can gain Is not in pleasure, but in rest from pain.
For mysterious things of faith, rely on the proponent, Heaven's authority.
Uncertain whose the narrowest span,--the clown unread, or half-read gentleman.
Let Fortune empty her whole quiver on me, I have a soul that, like an ample shield, Can take in all, and verge enough for more; Fate was not mine, nor am I Fate's: Souls know no conquerors.