Lived in his saddle, loved the chase, the course, And always, ere he mounted, kiss'd his horse.
A fool must now and then be right, by chance
Vice stings us even in our pleasures, but virtue consoles us even in our pains.
War's a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at.
Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too.
Thus happiness depends, as nature shows, less on exterior things than most suppose.