The only thing common to all mankind,
So different in their births, tongues, sexes, natures,
Hues, features, climes, times, feelings, intellects,[ao]
Without one point of union save in this—
To which we tend, for which we're born, and thread
The labyrinth of mystery, called life.
Sar. Our clue being well nigh wound out, let's be cheerful.
They who have nothing more to fear may well
Indulge a smile at that which once appalled;
As children at discovered bugbears.