Oftentimes sadly out of heart at the tiresome insipidity of pleasure,
Oftentimes labouring in vain, convinced of the palpable deceit:
Yet a man speaketh to his brother, in the voice of glad congratulation,
And thinketh others happy, though he himself be wretched:
And hand joineth hand to help in the toil of amusement,
While the secret aching heart is vacant of all but disappointment.
The cheapest pleasures are the best; and nothing is more costly than sin;
Yet we mortgage futurity, counting it but little loss:
Neither can a man delight in that which breedeth sorrow,
Yet do we hunt for joy even in the fires that consume it.