heavy upon his shoulders, can the yeomen of his guard ease
him of the burden? When he is astounded with the apprehension of death,
can the gentlemen of his bedchamber comfort and assure him? When
jealousy or any other caprice swims in his brain, can our compliments and
ceremonies restore him to his good-humour? The canopy embroidered with
pearl and gold he lies under has no virtue against a violent fit of the
colic:

"Nee calidae citius decedunt corpore febres
Textilibus si in picturis, ostroque rubenti
Jactaris, quam si plebeia in veste cubandum est."

["Nor do burning fevers quit you sooner if you are stretched on a
couch of rich tapestry and in a vest of purple dye, than if you be
in a coarse blanket."--Idem, ii. 34.]

The flatterers of Alexander the Great possessed him that he was the son
of Jupiter; but being one day wounded, and observing the blood stream
from his wound: "What say you now, my masters," said he, "is not this
blood of a crimson colour and purely human? This is not of the
complexion of that which Homer makes to issue from the wounded gods."
The poet Hermodorus had written a poem in honour of Antigonus, wherein
he called him the son of the sun: "He who has the emptying of my
close-stool," said Antigonus, "knows to the contrary." He is but a man
at best, and if he be deformed or ill-qualified from his birth, the
empire of the universe cannot set him to rights:

"Puellae
Hunc rapiant; quidquid calcaverit hic, rosa fiat,"

["Let girls carry him off; wherever he steps let there spring up a
rose!"--Persius, Sat., ii. 38.]

what of all that, if he be a fool? even pleasure and good fortune are
not relished without vigour and understanding:

"Haec perinde sunt, ut ilius animus; qui ea possidet
Qui uti scit, ei bona; illi, qui non uritur recte, mala."

["Things are, as is the mind of their possessor; who knows how to
use them, to him they are good; to him who abuses them, ill."
--Terence, Heart., i. 3, 21.]

Whatever the benefits of fortune are, they yet require a palate to relish
them. 'Tis fruition, and not possession, that renders us happy:

["'Tis not lands, or a heap of brass and gold, that has removed
fevers from the ailing body of the owner, or cares from his mind.
The possessor must be healthy, if he thinks to make good