Drive Nature out with a pitchfork, yet she hurries back, And will burst through your foolish contempt, triumphant.
To drink away sorrow.
The miser acquires, yet fears to use his gains.
You may drive out nature with a pitchfork, yet she'll be constantly running back.
The Cadiz tribe, not used to bearing our yoke.
Flames too soon acquire strength if disregarded.