Unfoster’d sickens in the barren shade? 170
No worthy man, by fortune’s random blows,
Or by a heart too generous and humane,
Constrain’d to leave his happy natal seat,
And sigh for wants more bitter than his own?
There are, while human miseries abound, 175
A thousand ways to waste superfluous wealth,
Without one fool or flatterer at your board,
Without one hour of sickness or disgust.
But other ills th’ ambiguous feast pursue,