From high Meonia's rocky shores I came, Of poor decsent, Acoetes is my name, My sire was measly born: no oxen ploughed, His fruitful fields, nor in his pastures lowed, His whole estate within the waters lay' With lines and hooks he caught the finny prey; His art was all his livelehood, which he Thus with his dying lips bequeathed to me: In streams, my boy, and rivers take thy chance; There swims', said he, Thy whole inheritance.

Suppressed grief suffocates, it rages within the breast, and is forced to multiply its strength.

It is not easy to bear prosperity unruffled.

Happy the man who can count his sufferings.

At times it is folly to hasten at other times, to delay. The wise do everything in its proper time.

It is annoying to be honest to no purpose.

Either do not attempt at all or go through with it.