Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done, Shoulder'd his crutch, and shew'd how fields were won.

Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long.

I can't say whether we had more wit among us now than usual, but I am certain we had more laughing, which answered the end as well.

The loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind.

To what fortuitous occurrence do we not owe every pleasure and convenience of our lives.

By sports like these are all their cares beguil'd; The sports of children satisfy the child.

Pity and friendship are two passions incompatible with each other.