κόσμον μὲν ἀνδρὸς οὔτιν᾽ ἂν τρέσαιμ᾽ ἐγώ, οὐδ᾽ ἑλκοποιὰ γίγνεται τὰ σήματα λόφοι δὲ κώδων τ᾽ οὐ δάκνουσ᾽ ἄνευ δορός. - Aeschylus

For not many men . . . can love a friend who fortune prospers without envying; and about the envious brain cold poison clings and doubles all the pain life brings him. His own woundings he must nurse, and feel another's gladness like a curse.

The gods! long since they hold us in contempt,
Scornful of gifts thus offered by the lost!
Why should we fawn and flinch away from doom?

Ἐλαφρὸν ὅστις πημάτων ἔξω πόδα
ἔχει παραινεῖν νουθετεῖν τε τοὺς κακῶς
πράσσοντας.