The one who prosperity takes too much delight in will be the most shocked by reverses.

Not treasured wealth, nor the consul's lictor, can dispel the mind's bitter conflicts and the cares that flit, like bats, about your fretted roofs.

The earth opens impartially her bosom to receive the beggar and the prince.

Never without a shilling in my purse.

In truth it is best to learn wisdom, and abandoning all nonsense, to leave it to boys to enjoy their season of play and mirth.

Our years Glide silently away. No tears, No loving orisons repair The wrinkled cheek, the whitening hair That drop forgotten to the tomb.

And take back ill-polished stanzas to the anvil.