Alas for the affairs of men! When they are fortunate you might compare them to a shadow; and if they are unfortunate, a wet sponge with one dash wipes the picture away.
The adulterer dies. An old custom, justice.
We spoil ourselves with scruples long as things go well.
Rumours voiced by women come to nothing.
Ask the gods nothing excessive.
Art is far feebler than necessity.