nothing was withheld either from want or merit; that every hand
showered liberality and every heart melted with benevolence: "And
who then," says he, "will be suffered to be wretched?"

Imlac permitted the pleasing delusion, and was unwilling to crush
the hope of inexperience: till one day, having sat awhile silent,
"I know not," said the Prince, "what can be the reason that I am
more unhappy than any of our friends. I see them perpetually and
unalterably cheerful, but feel my own mind restless and uneasy. I
am unsatisfied with those pleasures which I seem most to court. I
live in the crowds of jollity, not so much to enjoy company as to
shun myself, and am only loud and merry to conceal my sadness."

"Every man," said Imlac, "may by examining his own mind guess what
passes in the minds of others. When you feel that your own gaiety
is counterfeit, it may justly lead you to suspect that of your
companions not to be sincere. Envy is commonly reciprocal. We are
long before we are convinced that happiness is never to be found,
and each believes it possessed by others, to keep alive the hope of
obtaining it for himself. In the assembly where you passed the
last night there appeared such sprightliness of air and volatility
of fancy as might have suited beings of a higher order, formed to
inhabit serener regions, inaccessible to care or sorrow; yet,
believe me, Prince, was there not one who did not dread the moment
when solitude should deliver him to the tyranny of reflection."

"This," said the Prince, "may be true of others since it is true of
me; yet, whatever be the general infelicity of man, one condition
is more happy than another, and wisdom surely directs us to take
the least evil in the CHOICE OF LIFE."