Envy is a weed that grows in all soils and climates, and is no less luxuriant in the country than in the court. It is not confined to any rank of men or extent of fortune, but rages in the breast of those of every degree. We are as apt to find it in the humble walks of life as in the proud; as much in the sordid, affected dress as in all the silks and embroideries which the excess of age and folly of youth delight to be adorned with. Since, then, it keeps all sorts of company, and infuses itself into the most contrary natures and dispositions, and yet carries so much poison and venom with it that it ruins any life in which it finds lodgment—alienating the affections from heaven, and raising rebellion against God himself—it is worth our utmost care to watch it in all its disguises and approaches, that we may discover it at its first entrance, and dislodge it before it procures a shelter to conceal itself, and work to our confusion and shame.
Discontent
"Thinkest thou the man whose mansions hold
The worldling's pomp and miser's gold
Obtains a richer prize
Than he who, in his cot at rest,
Finds heavenly peace a willing guest,
And bears the promise in his breast