All your female friends are either old or ugly; nay, more ugly than old women usually are. These you lead about in your train, and drag with you to feasts, porticos and theaters. Thus, Fabulla, you seem handsome, thus you seem young.

Be merry if you are wise.

Your page stands against you and says to you that you are a thief.

Red-haired, black-lipped, club-footed, and blink-eyed; if you're a good man, you're a wonder!

The bee is enclosed, and shines preserved in amber, so that it seems enshrined in its own nectar.

No hero to me is the man who, by easy shedding of his blood, purchases fame: my hero is he who, without death, can win praise.

I wont let a wife lead me to the altar. [I will not have a wife that shall be my master.]