Rome is no longer in Rome, it is here where I am.
Oh, how sweet it is to pity the fate of an enemy who can no longer threaten us!
Alas, I emerge from one disaster to fall into a worse.
To die for one's country is such a worthy fate that all compete for so beautiful a death.
How much must I overcome before I triumph?
These flattering mirrors reflect imperfectly what is within; the countenance is often a gay deceiver. What defects of mind lie hidden under its beauty! What fair exteriors conceal base souls!