Most virtue lies between two vices.
Pale death with an impartial foot knocks at the hovels of the poor and the palaces of king.
The populace may hiss me, but when I go home and think of my money, I applaud myself.
Fidelity is the sister of justice.
Be this our wall of brass, to be conscious of having done no evil, and to grow pale at no accusation.
Alas, Postumus, the fleeting years slip by, nor will piety give any stay to wrinkles and pressing old age and untamable death.