How dark are all the ways of god to man!
Whom the gods destroy, they first make mad.
How sweet to remember the trouble that is past.
Who then will dare to say I'm weak or timid? No, they'll say I'm loyal as a friend, ruthless as a foe, so much like a hero destined for glory.
The variety of all things forms a pleasure.
It was my tongue that swore; my heart is unsworn.