That which Nature has Allotted us is best for us, and it is Great Folly
and Wickedness for People not to be Content with it, and Thankful for’t.
No Man knows Himself, or Understands his Own Condition, but by
Comparison, and upon Experience. Our very Wishes, many times, are Mortal
to us: and the very Granting of our Prayers, would but serve to make us
still more and more Miserable. The _Tortoise_’s Shell was a Clog and a
Burden, till they found it Necessary for the Defence of their Lives;
and they Envy’d the Easyness and Lightness of the Frogs, till they saw
them Joll’d to pieces, and Devour’d for want of a Buckler to Cover, and
Protect them. But they came then to be of the Begger’s Mind, that stood
Gaping at my Lady _Devonshire_’s Funeral: _Here’s a Brave Sight_, says
she, _and yet I Gad_ Bess, _for all That, I had rather be a Live Begger
then a Dead Countess_. The Moral Concludes in This, that there can be No
Thought of Security, or Quiet in This World, but in a Resignation to the
Allotments of God and Nature. If the _Tortoises_ had had their Wish, they
had e’en been Pick’d up among the _Frogs_.