If you have any shame, forbear to pluck the beard of a dead lion.
I know all that better than my own name.
The swan murmurs sweet strains with a flattering tongue, itself the singer of its own dirge.
For wealth's now given to none but to the rich.
The face that cannot smile is never fair.
Man loves malice, but not against one-eyed men nor the unfortunate, but against the fortunate and proud.