To friendship every burden's light.
How, like a moth, the simple maid Still plays around the flame!
Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil O'er books consumed the midnight oil?
Fair is the marigold, for pottage meet.
[Gulliver was soon being read] "from the cabinet council to the nursery".
Whoever heard a man of fortune in England talk of the necessaries of life? . . . Whether we can afford it or no, we must have superfluities.